Gravity || Anthony Bridgerton

Seventeen - Cold Milk

That night I had trouble sleeping.

I began to stir as I heard loud, muffled voices from downstairs and the slam of a door.

Unable to drift to sleep, after a while once I was convinced everyone was asleep, I made my way down the extravagant staircase and tiptoed to the pantry. I could hear the sound of my bare feet as they padded along the floor, sending a shiver up my legs as they made contact with the cold wooden surface.

As I rounded the corner toward the kitchen I stilled in surprise, seeing that the room was already lit up. Approaching the door to see who was in there, I made sure to remain as quiet as possible, not wishing to disturb whomever was inside.

My plan was going smoothly until I foolishly stepped on a creaky floorboard. The sound echoed throughout my surroundings, exposing me. Turning on my heel to escape back to my bedroom, I saw a tall shadow cast over me, suddenly engulfing me in darkness. I stood frozen.

I had been caught.

Admitting defeat I turned around to face the kitchen once again and saw none other than Anthony stood in the doorway stunned.

'I beg your pardon, I was having trouble sleeping and thought-' I blurted uncontrollably, unsure how else to approach the subject at hand.

'It's quite alright,' His voice was quiet and sad. 'I had the same trouble,' he laughed lightly but it held no humour, only sorrow.

With a shy smile I motioned behind me, 'I should head back upstairs, sorry for disturbing you.' But before I could turn around he interrupted.

'Nonsense, you must join me. Perhaps you can explain to me how to get this stove to work.' He laughed, inviting me into the kitchen.

I obliged and quietly followed after him as he made his way inside.

'If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you are trying to make?' I eyed the cold milk on the countertop before he turned to look at me. Now in the warm light of the kitchen I felt self conscious in my nightgown.

He took a moment to answer as he looked me up and down, his cheeks reddening. 'I was trying to warm up some milk. I had hoped it would help me sleep,' he sighed defeatedly as he gestured toward the stove. 'I know it is not likely, but do you by any chance know how to get something like this to work?' He chuckled.

'I am afraid not,' I giggled as he stared at the large device in bewilderment.

'Cold milk it is then,' he concluded, reaching for the bottle of cold milk. 'Would you like some?' He offered, holding the bottle toward me.

'I will get us some glasses,' I said shuffling toward the cupboards in search of some we could use.

Having searched the final cupboard, having not found any glasses I turned to Anthony in defeat.

'To informalities,' Anthony held the bottle up in cheers before taking a swig and handing it to me. 'It will be our little secret,' he promised in a hushed tone, taking a seat on one of the stools that stood in the middle of the kitchen beside a countertop.

I sat beside him on the other stool and looked at him for reassurance before taking a sip from the chilled bottle.

Lowering the bottle from my lips, Anthony grinned widely.