What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 19

The toaster oven hummed quietly. Mr. Jay had already left for work and Mrs. Jay—Marianne—had told me to help myself to some breakfast, anything I found in the fridge and the cabinets, before she had disappeared into the downstairs bathroom armed with pink rubber gloves, a sponge, and a can of Scrubbing Bubbles. I had found peppermint tea in a cabinet above the sink and rummaged through the fridge for something to put on the browning bread. My excavation turned up butter, sliced Swiss cheese, smoked ham, and Sally's Homemade Blackberry Jelly, the latter of which I chose.

This morning, I was in a good mood and ready to roll up my sleeves. The previous night, John and I had wanted to watch a movie, but that had turned into taking a trip down memory lane. He had a whole shelf full of DVDs from all genres in the TV room in the basement. And by 'shelf', I don't mean one board, but the entire piece of furniture. John rediscovered some of his favorite films he had forgotten about and his eyes had sparkled like a boy's on Christmas morning. All the while, I had asked him questions about the pieces I had found interesting. How had he acquired this particular item? Did he remember with whom he watched it for the first time? How old had he been? Was the movie better or worse than its IMDb rating?

Soon, the goal of deciding on a movie to watch had been forgotten and we were engrossed in a conversation about favorite movies (his was The Godfather, mine The Grand Budapest Hotel), actors and actresses (he didn't have one, or so he claimed, so refused to tell him mine), and book adaptations (he had never read the Harry Potter series either). When we had looked at the clock, it had already been 11 pm and too late to start a movie. Both tired from the day and the drive, we had decided to call it a night.

The guest room in which I was quartered was right across the carpeted hall from John's room and beside Andrew's room in which he and his fiancée, Laura, would be staying the following night. The other rooms on the floor were Mr. Jay's study and, at the end of the hallway, a bathroom the size of my bedroom at home. The master bedroom and ensuite bathroom were John's parents' and located on the first floor. The house was spacious, something I wasn't used to.

As sizable as it was, though, as aware was I that I was sleeping closer to John than I had ever slept. It was still surreal, staying here at his house with his family, sleeping in the room right opposite his childhood bedroom where he had spent thousands of nights studying, playing games on his phone, and falling asleep to the song of the robin in the backyard.

I placed my breakfast ingredients on the dining table and decided to wait on John when—speak of the devil—he entered the kitchen and, as always, my pulse picked up. He was wearing dark blue Panther sweatpants, a faded red t-shirt flecked with gray, and his hair was still a mess, at least as much of a mess as short hair could be. I fought the urge to run my hands through it to smooth it over.

"Morning," he said and stretched, allowing a glimpse of his trained abs underneath his t-shirt. Was he doing this on purpose? Was it because I had teased him about admiring the photo of his shirtless brother the day before?

The toaster swallowed the two slices of bread he threw at it, before he took a mug to the multifunctional monster that was the fully automated coffee maker. Upon pressing a button, the machine ground and spewed and rattled and squeezed the dark liquid into the blue-and-white Panther Pride mug.

"Did I miss the part where my making breakfast became a sensation?" His lazy smirk turned my stomach upside down.

Ugh, why did he have to be so attentive? And arrogant. My cheeks warmed and looked at the piece of blackberry jelly toast on my plate instead. Did he know I liked him? Was it that obvious?

"Why are you so flustered?" His laugh was unfairly melodic.

Did everyone know? Devin? And Linh? Oh my God, did John's family know? I would have been mortified talking to them again.