Don't Let Me Fall

Chapter 5

Two gentle knocks at my door is what wakes me. Barely able to open my eyes, I fall back on my pillows with an exasperated sigh when Caden swings the door open with a simple, "Hey". Why is it that the last person I want to see is the first face I see in the morning? And it's not even accidental! He is intentionally here. The universe must be seriously messing with me at this point.

Letting my vision adjust to the brightness crowding my room, I push back the hair on my head and hope that I don't look like a complete idiot in front of him. It's not that I want his approval, or anything. I just know he'd never let me live it down. Combing my fingers through my knotted hair, I survey him with what I hope looks like a defiant frown. As my eyes travel down his body, I see that in his hands is a tray; with closer inspection, I realise it's full of food. My mood just went from rock bottom straight down on a one way ticket to the earth's fiery core. 

Pulling my brows together in frustration, I cross my arms over my chest whilst I wait for him to do something. After taking in my sour expression, his small smile fades into a condescending frown. Closing the door with one of his feet, he walks over and plonks down on my bed, mere inches from where I'm currently struggling to sit up on the masses of pillows surrounding me. As I finally manage to sit up, I ask him, "What is this?", not even bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.

"Breakfast," he replies, keeping his serious expression in place as he offers the stacked tray towards me, "Seeing as you've been asleep all morning, I figured I better wake you and give you this before it gets cold. The guys are all out in the woods right now, but because I seem to be head chef, I brought up what they didn't eat. Just some pancakes and stuff..."

His voice trails off as I study the plate of food before me. It is, indeed, piled high with an assortment of pancakes, waffles and pastries. You would think we had a buffet downstairs judging by the amount of food on this plate. The sweet sugary smell of the platter drifts up to my nose, and I can feel my mouth beginning to water. Inhaling deeply, I glance up to see those grey eyes concentrating on me, watching as I sniff at the food. Watching the steam rise from the tray, I reply, "Thanks but I'm -"

He cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, "Not hungry? You and I both know that's not true. You already used that excuse, remember? Not that I bought it then, but I certainly don't buy it now. So, please, pick a pastry. All made by yours truly."

His harsh tone riles something deep within me, and I'm immediately on my feet, wild hair and all, yelling at him for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last two days, "Yeah, well, I don't want your food, I thought I already made that clear! You don't get to just waltz in here and baby me like I'm some charity case! So, please, let me repeat: leave me alone." 

My words hit him like a battering ram; he's quick to defend himself, "I don't think you're a charity case! I was trying to be nice but you are obviously too pretentious to even bother with me!"

I scoff, "Pretentious?  I'm not some school girl! If anyone is pretentious here it's you. What with your stupid gourmet recipes and your oh-so-funny jokes! Well, Mr head-chef, I don't want whatever kind of pity kindness you're trying to give me. I don't see why you're even here in the first place, actually! Yesterday clearly wasn't enough of a hint for you and despite the fact that many girls may appreciate your obnoxious gestures, I don't."

I watch as his grey eyes turn stormy and his cheeks flush red with anger. I can feel his heavy breaths on my face as he stands there with his fists clenched together, tray discarded now. Running a hand through his messy hair, he opens his mouth yet again, "You know what? Fine! Have it your way! I'll leave you alone! But don't come running to me when you finally realise that you may actually need my help! Because we both know that you aren't helping yourself. Whatever is going on with you, I'll let you figure out. And, by the way, I wouldn't be so quick to insult my cooking when a whole container of pasta seems to have disappeared overnight! Do you know anything about that, Meghan?"

Blood rushes up my neck , racing for my cheeks; I sense the heat there and can only imagine just how red I look. The words that just came out of his mouth send my brain into an instant spiral, and I don't realise I'm speaking until my ears pick up the shrill sound of my voice, "How dare you! How dare you insinuate anything about me! You know nothing of me, nor will you ever know anything about me. You don't know my struggles, so don't play doctor with me. I came here for a fresh start and you are about as far from that as humanly possible!"

By the time I'm finished screaming at him, I'm gasping, and he seems to have stepped closer until his face is mere centimetres from mine. His breath blows onto my face, cooling the heat there. I stare into his grey eyes, that seem almost...regretful? Before I can deduce the expression on his face, he's turned on his heel and out the door, tray in hand. 

I exhale, making my breath leave my body in a rush, taking the anger from me. I can almost see it as it rushes out of the door, following the man with the grey eyes.