Seems Like Royalty

XXVIII: Pancake nightmare and his family's care

28

            I had so many things prepared for this day because…it was Blake’s birthday! Good thing that February 2 landed on a Saturday or else I wouldn’t be able to carry out my plans for his big day. I prepared this for a week and I was more than psyched to execute my surprises.

            Tiptoeing all the way from the kitchen to his room was well, hard. I didn’t know why I was even doing it. He obviously couldn’t hear me from the first floor, right? I clutched the bed table harder to make sure that nothing would fall off and make unnecessary noise. Before entering his room, I checked the things I was holding.

            Orange juice? Check.

            Pancakes I made? Check.

            Water? Check.

            Utensils? Check.

            Me? Double check.

            Here I go. I silently entered the door, holding the entire tray on one hand. It was already 7 o’ clock in the morning but Blake’s room was still dark. Perhaps it was because of his gray curtains. The man himself was covered by the quilt on the bed though, a tuff of dark brown peeked at the top. I smiled.

            Placing the tray on the carpeted floor, I sneaked up to surprise him by lying down next to him. But when I jumped on the bed and screamed at his ear, Blake suddenly turned around to meet my hug. We ended up face to face.

            “Didn’t I tell you that you tend to become noisier when you try not to be?” He smirked widely. I took that moment to study him. His brown hair pointed out to every direction as if a hurricane messed it up. Dark gray eyes stared at me, making me feel warm everywhere.

            I glared. “You should’ve at least pretended to be surprised. To appease me.”

            He closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s do it again,” he said, his voice still husky because of many hours of not using it.

            I smacked his chest which was still covered by the quilt. “No. You can’t change what happened, you surprise smasher.”

            He laughed through his nose. “I lost count of my nicknames that you gave me. Mind to enumerate them for me?”

            “No, I don’t want to. I hate you! And did you really hear my footsteps that caused you to wake up? Are you a cat?” I pushed away myself from him but he had a different idea.

            “Well, I had a bad dream…” I unconsciously swallowed. I almost forgot that his entire family died on his birthday! What if he didn’t want to celebrate this? What if this only reminded him of the pain that he went through? What if he hated me for this? Ugh! Stupid, Amber! Stupid! Stupid! “…I dreamt of you making me pancakes. God, that was terrifying,” he continued, squeezing his eyes tighter as if he wanted to dispose of the etched memory.

            My whole world froze. But-But I did make him pancakes. For breakfast. And I didn’t taste them. At all.

            Oh.

            My.

            God.

            I made him pancakes and he didn’t want me to! Great way to start off a great birthday. What should I do with the breakfast tray I had prepared two feet away from us?