Pink Walls

Bonus Chapter [3]

I shut the door to Daniel's bedroom, crushed the empty bottle of water and tossed it into the bin at the end of the hallway.

Beside me, Daniel clapped. I couldn't tell whether he was joking or being serious.

"Nice shot," he said with a small smirk.

"Wasn't always a bodyguard." I shrugged.

"I can tell," he said with a short laugh then raced across the apartment to the kitchen.

He had his hands on the counter and a mixing bowl in front of him by the time I reached his side. "You're eating a proper breakfast."

"I am," I agreed and watched him break an egg into the bowl, "but not anything you're cooking."

"I'll eat it first."

"You have the antidote."

"I'll give it to you."

"It could be fake."

He threw his hands in the air, his exasperation obvious. I almost felt bad for messing with him. Almost.

"Why would I carry around fake antidotes?" he argued.

"Because you're smart?"

"Fine," he said, resigned. "You make breakfast then."

I tilted my head to the side to look at the shelves behind him. "With groceries that could be poisoned?"

"You're unbelievable."

"Unbeatable, you mean," I corrected him. "And I'm eating cereal."

"Cereal isn't food." Daniel's nose scrunched up in what could only be interpreted as disgust.

"But you have it?"

"Yes," his shoulders fell, "I do."

"Good." I sat on the stool opposite him and rested my elbows on the counter. "You can eat with me if you want."

"I could have poisoned the cereal," he said, a little too hopeful to be genuine.

"I doubt you've even opened it, Danny."

He sighed and put a bowl in front of me before turning—reluctantly—to the shelves.

"Cornflakes," I supplied, rather unhelpfully, and when he slammed the carton next to the bowl with his eyes narrowed and expression frosty, I grinned.

"Spoon. Milk. Suga—"

"You put sugar in cereal?" he interrupted, sounding absolutely horrified.

"You don't?" I asked innocently as I filled the bowl.

"You're sick." He made his way to fridge.

I laughed when he slid the milk jug across the counter to me, as though he couldn't bear to come any closer. "You've been hunted down for days but it's cereal that finally triggers you."

"I'll be over here making pancakes," he tugged on his bowl of eggs and grabbed a whisk, "if you need me."

"You aren't really upset, are you?"

He got a bag of flour from the cupboard and starred reaching for the sugar next.

He paused and looked back at me.

I stared at him blankly.

He batted his lashes then bit his lip. "Pancakes?"

"Fine." I sighed and looked away. "I won't use sugar. I'll just eat this bland roasted corn with this bland milk that tastes like water."

"Or you could eat pancakes."

"Do you make good coffee?"

"I make good everything."

"If you can make bad coffee, I'll eat whatever you cook," I said, selecting a tangerine from the bowl of fruit in front of me.

"You're being serious?"

"I am."

"I hope you like chocolate syrup on your pancakes."

"I'm not picky," I told him, and a few minutes later the water was done boiling, hand-ground coffee beans had been put in a french press and a mug of steaming coffee was gently placed beside me.

Daniel's expression, on the other hand, was far from gentle. "I can't believe you made me do that," he said, sulking.

I lifted the mug to my lips, feeling a little smug. "I like bitter coffee."

"Why?"

"It reminds me of someone."

"Oh." His expression softened and he turned back to the frying pans sizzling on the stove.

"Danny?"

He twisted slightly to look at me.

"I hope your pancakes taste as good as this coffee."

He grinned.

***