"Hey. Did you enjoy the bath?" Smith said in the kitchen while I dry my hair on a pink towel making sure that I don't drip water on his white tiled floors. I as an abrupt and advance thinker would instantly think that I could possibly slip and that can be avoided if, back to the start, I'll think. I work my way trying not to slip.
"Yes. Thank you again." I said. Walking in barefoot carefully towards his kitchen.
"Sorry. I forgot to buy you some slippers." I shook my head to answer him and he looked back at me "No. No need. It's okay. I'm used to walking barefoot inside our house" while I take steps in the stars and sat on the tall chair in the kitchen table and look at his back while he's doing something near the stove. I smell the sweet scent of milk. He could possibly prepares milk.
"Smells. Like milk." I said enjoying the scent that smells like what my mother usually make in our kitchen back home. Oh god, I miss the Philippines already. She always told me I have a strong sense of smell and I think of it as a compliment.
"Yes." he turns around and placed two ceramic cups on the table. "For both of us." He started pulling a chair under the table and sat and looked at me. I picked a cup, I don't care which is which whether it's in the right or it's in the left and took a sip from it I could sense his eyes were lingering on the cup I'm drinking so I put it down and looked at him. "Drink your cup too. It'll be cold if you don't drink it." I talked to him like a friend or a sister would do to a close person. He smirked and get his cup and sip it staring back at me.
"So. How about you eat?" He said and because my stomach is already growling I get the sunny side up eggs in front of me and put it in my plate because the rice is already on my plate. Good thing... Thing... rice. I can't live without rice. Man... I'm used to eating rice back at home.
"I've made it healthy" his voice is very light and I frown putting down my spoon and fork down on my plate giving him a Dude-do-pancakes-looks-healthy-to-you. It was for a reason that some of the people just buy readymade pancakes or whatever food they eat for some various reasons.
"Really? Pancakes?" I frowned but his face looks that he does not know anything about it. I ain't picky just being real.
"Yes."
"Seriously?"
"Look I've made it from scratch from fresh ingredients, chef. So just eat." I heard the sassiness of his voice that made me "not feeling better". So I kept my talkative side shut up. Dang. Both dang. He really prepared pancakes from scratch... Awesome. I never perfected pancakes so I guess awesome... I chuckled as he gets also a fried egg from the serving plate placing it on the rice on his similar white ceramic plate I have. We eat had no conversations, it feels like we're both afraid to start up a conversation or we just don't know what to talk to.
"George will be here any minute." He said putting his utensils together where the spoon is above while the fork is on below.
"George from the coffee shop downstairs right?"
"Yes."
Oh. Fuck. I mentally cursed as I remember I have a fan or rather friend meeting downstairs, on the coffee shop.
"Are-Are you done?" I asked him and he nodded. He stood up and starts to pick up the plates but I stood up stopping him letting our fingers brush each other without any intention to do it. Fuck romance novels, they are making me like a poet in my freaking mind. Romance novels are really not my area, as a matter of fact, I hate romantic books without a twist something like girl transfers then meets a boy then love, hate or friendship then ending up together. Or good girl meets bad boy then the next thing you know they are having sexual intercourse in the 2nd or next chapters, or the billionaire thing about the man, like how do some people get to those things without really noticing it repeats on every book they read. Like what the fuck. And the really basis of romantic books now is just sex? Do they even think about a female being the dominant rather than the male or a male being more simple rather than being a boastful fucker? Well, of course, I understand them. I'm a fucking writer who does that too and I'm fucking like that and I can't help to do it either. People prefer that and I have nothing to do with it.
YOU ARE READING
Love Is A Strong Word
Fanfiction"We were something, don't you think so? Rosé flowing with your chosen family and it would've been sweet if it could've been me, in my defense, I have none, for digging up the grave another time but it would've been fun if you would've been the one"...
