In Motion

Chapter 19: No One's Gonna Love You by Band of Horses (2007)

The one thing I really hated? Getting woken up on a Saturday. Unfortunately, the guy I had spent the night with was an early riser. He also thought it would be funny to poke my cheek with his finger, like his own pesky rise-and-shine.

"Martin!" I groaned, grabbing a pillow and covering my face. I heard him chuckle. 

"Wake up," he said, traces of giggle in his voice.

"No!" I demanded, crushing my face with the pillow.

"We have to cook breakfast," he said, like it was the right thing to do. On a fucking Saturday. "For your sister," he added.

"Fuck that!" I mumbled. "She can take care of herself."

"Kyle Stephen!" he chided, sounding like my mom. 

"Martin!" I grumbled. My feet found his legs and lightly kicked them. "Go away!"

"Oh, I know how to wake you up." His voice was low and growly. And fucking sexy.

I blinked underneath my pillow and smiled. I pulled it off from my head. Martin was staring at me with cocked eyebrows. He looked adorable: shirtless with a bed head. 

"Good morning," I drawled, giving him a sleazy, sleepy smile.

"Pervert," he said, with squinted, mocking eyes.

"Says the guy who swallo--" He punched my thigh before I could finish. For a wiry guy, he could land a thud. 

"Jesus!" I swore, wincing at the surprising pain. "Fiiiiiiine. Let's go cook."

We found ourselves in the kitchen a few minutes later. I was staring into my coffee cup while he rummaged in the fridge. We had enough sense to put on shirts, in case Mel walked in on us. We didn't wanna be the two guys walking around like we just had sex all night. I mean, we kinda did, but whatever.

"Can I fry this?" he asked from inside the fridge. "And reheat this?"

"Do whatever you want," I mumbled, about to sip my coffee. 

"You don't cook, do you?" he asked, a hint of judgment in his voice. 

I gulped down my coffee before answering. "I can cook, Martin," I shot back with an eye roll. "I promise home-cooked meals when we live together."

That was obviously the pre-caffeine foot-in-mouth talking. I glanced at Martin's reaction. He looked shocked but recovered quickly, before bursting into laughs. 

Goddamn, I needed to finish my coffee. Fast.

I took out everything that he would need: frying pan, chopping board, knife. I watched from the kitchen counter as he prepared with ease. Okay, maybe he'd be the one doing the cooking. I stared in amazement, a wide smile starting to stretch my lips.

"You are so in love with me," he said, not looking up from crushing garlic. A weak "heh" was all I could reply. 

I watched him zoom around the kitchen while I sat useless. Once in a while, I would lean forward and ask for a kiss. He'd roll his eyes, but he obliged each time. A smack on the lips. A peck on my cheek. 

The umpteenth time that I did that was the moment Mel decided to walk in on us. She snorted; Martin and I jolted our heads to her.

"Good morning!" she said, all cheerful and preppy. But the smirk on her face told me everything that I didn't want to know. Sisters. 

"Hi, Mel," Martin replied sheepishly. "This'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Oh, take your time," she said, walking into the kitchen and pulling her mug from the cupboard. She made herself Milo, biting her lower lip to stop herself from giggling.