Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 192.

Tom's pov~

I felt absolutely fucking high, as if I could ride a unicorn and leap across clouds into other galaxies. She looked so beautiful in her sleep that I didn't dare to move a muscle. Her hair, with its intoxicating scent of green apple and coconut, lingered in the air, a fragrance that never seemed to leave her. I had finally gotten her back, my princess, sleeping peacefully on my chest, right where she belonged.
With one last kiss, I extricated myself from her embrace to prepare breakfast in the kitchen. Maybe today I'd be kind enough to make breakfast for everyone, though I quickly reconsidered, deciding to leave that task to Sam, who at least had some idea of what he was doing. I, on the other hand, was cracking eggs wildly and separating yolks from whites, already making a mess. How did Sam always manage to whip up the best scrambled eggs and French toast?

Lost in thought, Sam entered through the garden door, likely after an early morning swim in the lake. A wet towel hung over his shoulder, a book in his hand, forest-green swim trunks around his waist, and Harry's borrowed red flip-flops slapping against his feet.

"Morning," I called out. He looked in the direction of my voice, quickly masking any relaxation he had tried to cultivate. The fleeting serenity vanished, and he ignored my presence. Truth be told, I wasn't eager to talk to him either, but if I wanted to surprise Y/N with breakfast in bed, it had to taste better than this—I glanced at the two bowls, with eggshells floating in the whites. "Could you help me out for a second?"

Sam still didn't look thrilled by my request. He stopped at the long table, dropping his book and towel. I understood he didn't want to talk to me while he was angry. "Look, I'm sorry about last night." Not enough. His clenched jaw told me so. "I didn't mean to be..." I quickly went out of words. What had I not meant to be? Agitated? On thin ice? "An ass." Yes, that was it. Sam looked up, unimpressed but not dismissive either.

"And?" And what? His question caught me off guard. I hadn't thought this far.

"And I'm really sorry."

"And?" Still not what Sam wanted to hear. I studied his expression, trying to grasp what he needed from me.

"And it won't happen again," I stated, though it came out more like a question. 

"And?" But that wasn't what Sam was driving at. His look told me everything.

"And I'll buy you a new pair of sunglasses." A smirk spread across his freckled face.

"From Ray-Ban!" he demanded. I nodded.

"Of course."

"Or Prada."

"Whatever you prefer." I raised my palms. Whatever brand he wanted, he'd get.

"With a warranty!"

"Absolutely." It made me wonder if Sam had ever owned an authentic pair of Ray-Bans, and if so, why he hadn't had a warranty. Knowing him, he could've been wearing a cheap knockoff and blaming me for its demise when it hit the ground yesterday. But that didn't matter now. He joined me in the kitchen and glanced down at the sorry state of the two bowls.

"Goal?" was his only question. I sighed, resting my hands on my hips.
"Originally, scrambled eggs."

~

Sam ended up helping me with breakfast. While my attempt at an omelet might have taken three minutes, Sam's version took a meticulous half hour. He whisked the eggs into a frothy, but not creamy, mixture and then strained it through a sieve. Next, he stirred in a splash of cream, finely chopped some chives, seasoned the mixture with salt and pepper, and gently cooked it over medium heat. He let it cook slowly, ensuring nothing burned—unlike my usual hasty approach. This meticulousness was likely why Sam was the chef and I was the actor. At least I could pretend to understand what he was doing.

"Toast too?" he asked, deftly flipping the omelet in the pan.

"Do we even have a toaster?" I replied.

"Idiot. Just toss me a slice of bread," his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he didn't throw me a second glance. I obliged, still unsure of his plan until he toasted the bread in the pan and placed the omelet on top. He plated the dish with a ketchup heart on the side, sprinkled some chives over it, and handed me the masterpiece—a creation I had little to do with. If Y/N found any eggshells in her meal, that would be my contribution.

"Thanks a ton, man!" I clapped him on the shoulder, setting the plate on the tray beside a glass of orange juice. I had also sliced some fruit into a bowl, feeling particularly proud of the strawberry hearts.

"No problem. Good luck," Sam said, knowing how much I wanted to surprise Y/N. He appreciated my efforts as much as his twin did. Nearly everyone in the house actually did, especially the guys, seemed to be rooting for us.

Ciara, on the other hand, was an enigma I couldn't quite unravel. She didn't need to speak for me to sense her disdain; it radiated from her in silent waves. I wished I could claim she didn't intimidate me, but the truth was, she did—especially since she was Y/N's best friend and wielded an influence over Y/N that might even surpass my own. I chose to ignore her venomous presence as she brushed past me on the stairs, her aura like a chilling breeze. Right now, my focus was singular: to bring a smile to Y/N's face.

~Short one my luvs. Enjoy it as much as you can. And remember, length doesn't always matter.~