Growing Up and Other Tall Tales

Chapter 73

When I stumble into the kitchen in the morning, Aiden is busy on the phone speaking in quiet but insistent German. He greets me with a sharp wink and nods for me to take a seat at the counter. It's not the first time he has winked at me like that but today it makes my stomach burn.

After a few minutes of listening to him spit rapid-fire German and watching him getting increasingly agitated at whoever is on the other end, he abruptly ends the call. Looking rather satisfied with himself, he slips behind the counter and leans forward on his elbow, "Morning."

I smile in spite of myself, "Aiden. Coffee. Now." I make grabby hands at my mug sitting in front of him

"Lyra. Manners. First," he answers swiftly

"But, ugh." I declare eloquently and made a grab at the mug and started to waggle said mug in his very unimpressed face until Aiden looks skywards painfully, turns around and lifts the warm coffee pot

"This can't be good for you," he says sagely when I bury face in the smoke rising from my drink

"Good is a social construct." I sip the coffee and it tasted as good as it smells. For someone who has never tasted a drop of coffee, Aiden Romanov makes a great cup. Every cup is like drinking my first. I wonder, not for the first time, what Aiden did to get the coffee to taste this way. And there's no way in hell I'm asking him.

"Your musketeers are a handful." Aiden pulls out his own mug and turns around to get his tea bags

I groan and slump forward on the counter, resting my chin in my hand. He chuckles and a warmness settles somewhere in my depths and it wasn't the coffee. The next gulp burns me to my soul.

"To say the least. I'm surprised I actually got them to leave."

"Maybe you'll feel less disheveled if you quit caffeine." He suggest gently sipping his stupid tea

"Do you want me to quit school? End up on the streets? Get knocked up at 19 with triplets and no support system?"

When I don't hear his immediate denial, I peer blearily at him in disbelief at his thoughtful expression.

"Could you at-least try to pretend to like me?"

"It could kill me." he says seriously and I drop my head back onto the counter. I feel his rumbling laughter echo through me and a hand drop into my hair rubbing soothing circles into my scalp. I sigh.

"If I keep doing this will you not ask me for a second cup of coffee?" he asks quietly and I snort

"What, trade one addiction for another?" I say without thinking, looking up to find his face close, gentle and soft in the morning hue. His hand that was buried in my hair slides down and settles at the junction between my shoulder and neck. Eyes flicker over my face, and I can't decide if they are green or blue. His thumb falls onto my cheekbone.

"What are you looking at, Romanov?" I manage, wanting to sound threatening but wind up sounding breathless

"A lot." He replies

I clear my throat and push my mug in between us wedging an inch of space which is enough for him to blink out of it.

"You've got a problem." He says still trying to gain bearing of what's happening around him

"My problem is that you are not refilling my mug,"

"Insufferable."

"You wouldn't have it any other way."

He doesn't deny that either.