Delectable (Sinclair Bryant)

A New Day

When Sian awoke, slightly confused at her surroundings and parched, she expected Sinclair to be by her side but he wasn't.

She extricated herself from the entanglement of the duvet and pillows that she'd apparently fought with during her slumber and went in search of her missing bedtime companion.

Pleasantly relieved; she found him in the kitchen.

"Morning," she mumbled, raspy sleep still holding onto her throat.

Sinclair turned from the kettle that was starting to bubble with a smirk. "Afternoon."

"What time is it?" she asked rubbing her eyes, looking around for a clock in his stark white kitchen. It's brightness uncomfortable on her sensitive retinas.

With a flick of his arm, Sinclair looked down at his brown leather strapped watch and chuckled.

"3.15"

"What?!" she gasped, her eyes suddenly alive. "Perry's going to kill me. I said I'd call her in the morning."

"Don't worry," he said raising his hands in the manner that people do when they try to calm someone, "I already received an ear full off her this morning. Apparently, she 1471'd my phone number last night. Sneaky...but smart."

Sian laughed, "Yeahhh, that does sound like Perry...sorry about the ear full."

"Don't worry, I've heard worse," he replied nonchalantly with a wave of his hand.

But Sian did worry. Perry had found it difficult to mask her contempt for the man who had left her without word or warning.

"How do you feel?" he asked, closing the gap between them until Sian had to angle her head upwards to catch his eyes.

Sian paused. Asked herself the same thing and gave a hint of a smile. "I'm okay, a bit sore but I guess I feel, sort of, strangely liberated. You know the old saying, something shared...is something halved. A bit of that philosophy...I think."

"I'm glad." Sinclair seemed to forget himself in their moment of honesty. He reached out his hand to her face, cupping it gently; the ends of his fingers touching behind her ear, tickling the roots of her hair.

When Sian's eyes fell, his memories awoke. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."

"It's okay," she whispered, still not able to meet him eye to eye.

What does one do, in these awkward situations? The click of the kettle sounded. Saved by the bell.

"Tea?" he offered with an exuberant bounce in his voice, sliding his hand from the intimate home they had taken up.

"Yes please."

"The big mug?" he inquired as he turned and opened the cabinet above the kettle.

"What do you think?" Sian shot back sarcastically, feeling inexplicably comfortable in the moment, considering what had just taken place. She couldn't deny that it had felt...wanted. Dare she admit it; needed.

Sinclair snorted and confirmed with a swift nod of the head. "The big mug."

Why did he have to be so damn lovable?

"Go sit down. I'll bring it over," he instructed, feeling her eyes on him as he worked his way around the kitchen. She'd always had a penchant for watching him in there.

Sian did as she was asked, settling her bedraggled state under the blanket on the sofa. Sinclair had folded it back up and draped it along the top, but Prince now had trails of dried snot all over him, and it wasn't pleasant. She wanted to hide it and the blanket was the obvious article to do so with.