Celestial Worlds

Chapter Ten

I wake up and find Jonathan still sleeping.

    I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. I didn’t wake up in his arms or snuggling against him. He faces the other side and I face the ceiling. He hugs a pillow tightly and his leg is hitched up above the pillow. I smile at his position and stand up from his bed, making little movement as possible. He shifts but doesn’t wake up. I tiptoe toward his bedroom door and go out, wondering if Debby’s home and what she’ll say when she finds out I slept with his son, in her house. I peek out the window and discover the car missing in the garage. Maybe she isn’t awake yet. I go up my room, brush my teeth and wash my face before going back to his room. He’s still asleep, sleeping in the same position I left him in. I lie back down above the comforter, hands on my stomach and eyes at the ceiling.

    “Good morning,” Jonathan says in a husky voice. I turn to him and see him rubbing his eyes vigorously. He looks at me and squints at the morning light. He smiles a lazy smile with his eyes closed. He’s adorable.

    “Hi,” I say shyly. He opens his eyes a little and looks at me quizzically.

    “You okay?” He asks.

    “Hmm?Oh! Yeah, I’m…fantastic,” I say. And I am, I am happy, I feel fantastic. I say this with a little laugh and shyness because I don’t know how to speak to him. Should I flirt with him because we slept together? Or did nothing change?

    He exhales and closes his eyes. And he says with a faint smile, “I haven’t slept that well in weeks.”

    I feel flattered at his comment that I look to him, not caring if I’m blushing my face off. I give him a warm smile, to say that I did too, that I did sleep well. I break our gaze and say, “Debby’s not home yet.”

    He nods and says, “Yes, she doesn’t wake up until ten in the morning. And also it’s Thursday.”

    “Well, what time is it,” I ask him while yawning. He turns his head to the bedside table where a digital clock is located.

    “Seven ten,” he answers. “We should cook. I’m starving.” I nod and slides off his bed. I stride to the door and reach my hand out to open it when he calls my name. I turn to him and he says, “Wait for me.” He sits up and slides off his bed, dropping the comforter in the process. He walks to his bathroom and closes the door, the faucet running. I walk toward his bed and pick up his blanket, folding it and placing it on his bed. I sit down and fold my hands above my lap waiting for him to go out. After a minute, he goes out with a new shirt and a new pair of flannel pyjamas. He’s still in pyjamas. Why?

    “Come on,” He says and grabs my hand, walking me to the door and out. We walk to the kitchen and I let go of his hand, sifting through the ingredients. We cook ham and bacon with rice when I discover I’m not really hungry. I’m craving for something I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Ice cream.

    “Uh, I’m not really hungry,” I tell Jonathan quietly. He furrows his eyebrows, still beating an egg for Debby. The air feels so fragile and I’m uncomfortable. What if he misinterprets my statement, what if he thinks it’s because of him.

    “Why?” is all he says while looking at me, his hands moving in a circular motion to beat the egg.

   “I’m…I’m uh…,” I start lamely then I add, very quietly, “I really want ice cream.” He laughs out loud with his shoulders shaking and crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He bites his lower lip to keep laughing more.

    “That isn’t really breakfast, sweetheart. You’ll vomit. Do you want to vomit?”

    I answer back, defeated, “I…uh, no.” But he opens up the freezer and hands me a familiar rectangular tub.