Americano | Jude Bellingham

private driver

"So, uh- do you have any allergies?"

I mutter awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on Jude as he sits across from me at the kitchen island.

He folds his arms across his chest, raising his head to look over at me.

"Are you planning something?" He eyes me suspiciously, causing a tired sigh to leave my mouth.

"Shut up- answer the question.." I raise my wooden spoon, threatening him.

"No, I don't have any allergies. Is that good enough?" He replies, Brum accent making him sound even more defensive.

"Ungrateful ass.." I mutter, turning around and starting to work on breakfast.

I had slept horribly after last night's events. I'd reckon- maybe, six hours in total. It was our day off- thankfully, but that didn't mean that I trusted Jude to rummage through my house on his own while I rotted away in bed.

My dad had called earlier, wanting to explain the situation to me clearly without leaving any important details out.

Apparently, last night Jude's place was broken into again. This time, he was at home to actually witness it happen. I'm not sure what transpired between the intruder and Jude. Since, my dad had told me it would be too invasive for me to know.

From what I knew, it was the same person as last time- or how many damn times this had happened. This case had been keeping my dad busy for months now, and it only found a way to piss me off even more.

Either Jude had the shittiest security, or- did he even have security?

"Can't believe I'm cooking for you.." I mutter, hearing the drag of his house slippers against the floor as he walks up to me.

"What are you making?"

I move away, so he doesn't touch me, giving him a side eye as I crack four eggs in a pan.

"Eggs.." I say, moving back when oil splashes up.

"Can you cook?" He asks, eyes moving in between the stove and my face.

"Kind of.." I say, hesitating with my reply.

I knew how to cook the basics. Say, your pastas and soups. Though, I like to think I'm improving every time auntie Carmen comes over to show me how to cook another delicious meal.

"How do you like your eggs?" I ask, raising my head to look up at him. He has a confused expression on his face and his gaze is fixed on me.

Fuck, did that sound wrong?

"More runny or cooked?" I ask, grimacing to myself as I sprinkle salt and pepper into the pan.

"You've cooked it- enough.."

"Oh, okay.." I mentally curse at how stupid I sound, looking away from him.

I quickly plate it up for him, not forgetting the avocado and barely toasted pieces of bread.

Well, too bad for him.

We eat our breakfast without speaking to each other. I can only hear the crunch of my bread and clatter of the cutlery against the plates.

I look up at him when I've cleared my plate, wiping crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"How long are you staying?"

"Are you trying to kick me out already?"

I give him a look, raising my brows as if to tell him he already knows my answer.