The Pretend To Be Agreement

Chapter Three

Will

I woke to the smell of bacon and eggs, and a hangover. Getting out of bed was hard, my muscles screaming, my breath smelling like Bourbon.

"Grace," I say as I walk into the kitchen of my apartment. She turns around for a second and then looks back over and just in time for the stove to ding.

"Hmm," she hums softly as she takes the bacon out of the oven.

"Why are you cooking? Well, to be more specific, why are you here in my apartment?" I ask, walking over to the counter and sitting down in one of the chairs.

She shrugs. "Last night, because we were both drunk and your apartment was just down the street, you said I could sleep on the couch. So I did, and then I woke up and became hungry so I made brunch."

"Oh." Was all that came out of my mouth, making me sound like an idiot.

"But, I wouldn't expect either of us to remeber anything, mostly you, though. Drunk off the rocker." She explains with with a laugh, one that reminded me of a warm summer day. It was strange, seeing her like this, all relaxed, no worries.

I've seen her twice at her work place, and both times she seemed to uptight, nervous; probably wanting nothing to go wrong, like if it did she'd be fired.

"Will, I'm calling you 'Will' now, is that alright?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

'No reason. Oh, and Will, your food's ready." She tells me, placing a food covered plate in front of me.

"Thanks, Grace."

"You're welcome, Will."

I smile, using my hand and taking a huge bite out of my slice of toast. "This is nice."

She nods, taking a seat beside me. "Yeah, it is."

The nice moment lasts for a couple more seconds, with just the two of us eating, but is interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. I was about to get up and grab it, but Grace beats me too it and rushes over into the living room and comes back with the phone in her hand, pacing it over to me. Seeing her expression I could tell who it was without having to look at the caller ID. It was my father, James Reed. I stand up, heading over into the living room.

"Hello, dad," I greet, trying to sound happy, but failing.

"Hello, William." Oh, this can't be good, he's using my whole name.

"What's wrong, now?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just, I'm sitting here with your mother, and she's watching her morning E-news, and suddenly she's shouting for me to come and see what's on the TV. Do you know what I saw, William?"

No, I'd rather not.

"Judging from the tone of your voice, I'd rather not, but go ahead. I bet you're just shaking with excitement!" I exclaim, sarcastically.

I could hear him scoff on his end of phone in annoyance. "Quite fascinating, really. It was you?" He tells me, the anger very noticeable in his voice. Great. Just what I needed to start off my day.

"Really? Me?" I was being a prick with my sarcasm, but it's only fair if he's going to be an ass.

"Yes, you. And, that photographer, Ms. Tomson?"

Oh, dear god. Really?

"Her name is actually pronounced, Thompson, not Tomson." I correct him, knowing I was going to get a lecture for it.