the heart never lies (chris evans)

chapter twenty seven - an eton mess

The following morning, I wake up naturally, squinting my eyes at the small ray of sunlight shining through the slight gap in the curtains. I groan, shuffling closer to Evans, only to shuffle into an empty space. Furrowing my eyebrows, I sit up and glance around the room. Neither Evans or Dodger are anywhere to be seen. Hm. Maybe he's just taken Dodger for an early walk...

I slip out of the bed and tiptoe out of the bedroom, only to smell something cooking. Oooh. I tiptoe down the corridor and turn the corner to the kitchen, only to see Evans standing over the stove, trying to flip a pancake. He then notices me as Dodger scurries over for a fuss.

"Oi, what are you doing!? You're supposed to be in bed! This is meant to be a surprise!" I smile slightly, biting my lip.

"Well how was I s-supposed to know that?" I tease and he smiles, pointing his spatula at me.

"Back in bed, young lady." God, he's so hot when he acts all dominant.

"Or what?" I say, raising my eyebrows playfully. He arches that damn eyebrow, smirking.

"You don't want to find out." Oooh. I bite my lip. "Go on, bed. Now."

"Okay, okay, I'm goin'." I utter, holding my hands up in defence.

"Good girl. It'll be ready in a minute." I smile and start walking back to the bedroom, before hopping back into bed. I grab my phone from the bedside table and unplug it, before checking to see if I have any messages. I answer all of the important ones, then I can't help but click on Liv's messenger chat, scrolling through some of our messages. I never quite realised how much she used to talk about all the guys she'd hooked up with, what she'd done with them — she'd give them blowjobs, do doggy, the list was endless.

It makes me wonder whether Chris feels like he's missing out. I thought I was moving pretty fast, but I know that my idea of fast isn't actually... very fast. He hasn't mentioned anything, or hinted at all, but he wouldn't, because he wouldn't want to pressure me. I know that. But does he want more? Am I being selfish?

Before I can think anymore on it, Evans walks back in the room with a tray full of delicious food; pancakes, maple syrup, fruit, even whipped cream. I smile a little.

"Ta daaaa!" He chirps, trying not to drop the tray.

"It smells incredible." I say, sitting up and crossing my legs.

"Let's hope it tastes just as good. There were many failed attempts prior." He states, gently setting the tray on the bed. I let out a laugh, as he shuffles onto the bed next to me.

"Probably did a b-better job than I would have. I t-tried making brownies once and they came out l-looking like, like a ch-chocolate-y flat bread." He laughs himself, tilting back and throwing a hand over his peck.

"Chocolate-y flat bread. That's great. It sounds alright, to be fair."

"It d-definitely didn't taste alright." I tell him, grabbing my knife and fork. He chuckles again and I cut a piece up, taking a bite. Evans stares at me, anxiously waiting for my response. I smile in content.

"Mmmm."

"Good?"

"Very good. Tastes amazing!" He smiles and sighs in relief. "C'mon, taste your m-marvellous creation!" I chirp, cutting another piece up and holding it in front of him. With another chuckle, he leans forward and takes the bite.

"Hmm, yeah, not bad actually!" I laugh softly and roll my eyes, pouring some of the maple syrup over the pancakes.

We manage to scrape up nearly every crumb off the plate and I'm comfortably stuffed by the end. I rest my back on the headboard of the bed and smile in content, closing my eyes. I tap my tummy, which makes Evans chuckle softly.