Lennox. Me. & Apartment C.

005.

I woke up the following morning with my duvet pulled up to my chin and the best smell ever wafting in my room towards my nose. Granted, it was just food but food is always best when you don't have to cook it. I groggily sat up in my bed and checked my phone: 11:38 and 4 unread text messages. I couldn't help but smile as I noticed that all of them were from Mosh:

3:27 AM: "Quinnnn?"

4:06 AM: "I waas letting you know that Im fine baeeeee."

4:06 AM: "Ok"

9:55 AM: "Hey, how are you feeling?"

I typed in a response before I got up and moved towards the bathroom so I could brush my teeth before my breath started ripping the paint off the wall. After I managed to do the bare minimum to make myself look somewhat human to Stevie Wonder, I walked out of my room to figure out what that delectable smell was. I turned out of my room to find a bare, toned back facing me. A dishrag was carelessly thrown over the back's right shoulder and the top of boxers peeked up over the top of the back's nicely toned--.

"Morning," Lennox greeted as he turned around to face me. I had managed to grab a seat the bar without leaving a trail of drool on the floor in my wake.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile. "What are you doing up so early? You got in after me. And, how did you manage to catch the scent of Heaven itself?"

"I didn't realize Heaven had a scent," he chuckled. "And, unlike you, Party Monster, I had a somewhat boring night. So waking up was easy and remembering what happened last night was even easier," he answered, using the spatula to put the food on the plates on the counter.  "Breakfast omelets: sausage, cheese, and green peppers."

"Ok, not that I totally don't having someone else cook breakfast for me, but why are you cooking breakfast for me?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, darling," Lennox began. "I like cooking and it seems really selfish to just cook for myself. Besides, I've gotten really good at making breakfast food after my many 'morning afters,'" he said with a wink after handing me a fork from the drawer.

I cautiously took the fork from him as if he were Aladdin offering me his hand to fly on a total deathtrap across the world. "Well thanks for the food but I'm totally down to cook whenever, you know Southern comfort and hospitality and all that jazz," I rambled. I didn't realize until after everything was out that I basically just volunteered to play House with him. I quickly looked down at my plate and began to shovel food in my mouth just so I could stop speaking. I was so awful when I did that—speaking, that is.

"I might take you up on that," Lennox responded with a smirk, which I guess means that he noticed my little slip, before cutting his omelet with the side of his fork and taking a bite. He was standing in the kitchen across the bar from me and I felt the weigh of his stares come down on my like a lioness on a baby gazelle. Nonetheless, he brought a cup of orange juice up to his mouth and began to drink. I couldn't help but notice his diaphragm expanding and his muscular chest, puffing out. His abs, though not usually pronounced, appeared more defined as my eyes meandered down to—oh happy trail!

I quickly brought my hand up to my forehead as I looked down at my plate and shoveled food into my mouth again. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I function like a normal human being? Why am I so weird? Oh my gosh! Why didn't I put on pants this morning? I just kept looking down with my fingers pressed against my temple as I tried to keep my face cool.  It probably looked super sus right now but behaving strangely was a lot better than turning redder than the band on his boxers that was peeking out above his sweatpants—not that I noticed things like that about said roommate anyway.

"What's wrong with you? Headache? Need some hair of the dog?" Lennox asked, nodding his head in my direction. He had noticed my hand, shielding my eyes.