Two broken souls in the midst of a crazy world. Two souls running away from their past. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel was cracking, slowly closing in.
When these two connect, as if they were set on the same path, light cre...
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There's one thing I know how to do: make good fucking French toast. I've spent years practicing the best technique, and here I am mastering it in the kitchen.
The microwave above me reads seven fifteen am. I can't sleep again. It's not about my father or my life. I just can't sleep. Surprisingly, my father discovering where I live has no effect on me. Maybe it's the therapy, or maybe I'm happy he finally acted out in front of someone besides my mother.
At first, I was concerned about him attempting to apologize. It's downright sad that I was more scared of hearing an apology for his anger. I know I told him face-to-face he'd beg for one, but I knew then and there I was lying. He knew it too.
I haven't even seen Val since, and she's the one who let him in and surprisingly disappeared. I assume she opened it for him as she was rushing out of the door, but Val knows better than to let that man into our home. Maybe I will call her later; she must be off the rocker.
Alas, I have no time to think about that with Damian staring me down like a hawk. "I have work in thirty minutes, Viv. You promised me breakfast thirty minutes ago." I hold my hand up toward him. "Patience, D! Art doesn't happen quickly!" He's been watching me like a hawk all morning. I think he's concerned I might just combust into a million pieces, but I really am fine.
"Well, then make me shitty art." He glances down at his watch for just a moment before I feel his eyes back on me. "Stop babysitting me, Damian." There's nothing rash that has crossed my mind in the past... ten hours? "I'll stop when I know you're okay."
"I'm better than okay!" I toss three pieces of fresh toast onto a plate, shaking some powdered sugar on top. "Because I am a magnificent cook!" I spin around with the plate in hand, urging it towards him. "Tada!" His bare expression makes my eye twitch, and my ego takes a huge blow.
He cuts into it with his fork without saying a word. God, I feel like I'm in Hell's kitchen right now." Spit it out." I cross my arms across my chest; my brain is going haywire without a response. "It's worth being late to work." My hands fly into the air, excitement keeping me awake. "I knew it! I knew it. I knew it!"
"Don't boast too much; I've had better." I drop my hands to my sides in an instant. "You're just an asswipe." I sit across from him, poking my fork around the plate I made for myself. "Eat it." His own fork clicks with mine. "I'm eating it. It's early!" His eyes scan around my face, searching for a lie. "You need to eat more, you know." He's Adonis 2.0. Just kill me now.
"I smell maple syrup! Don't tell me you made-ohhh!" Parker stalks into the kitchen with tired eyes, but as soon as he sees the two of us, he's wide awake. "Stealing my best friend, Damian? Cold move!" Parker's slim arms wrap around my shoulders, his body heat sinking into me. "Early bird catches the worm, dipshit."
In one quick motion, he slides from his seat, swishing past us to place his dish in the sink. "Thank you, Vivian." He fixes the top of his tie and brushes past. "Don't forget about asking for a position for me to work!" I half-scream down the hall, but his silence tells me it's not happening. "Ewwww, V, you want to work for him?" Why does that seem to be everyone's reaction? Especially Val's.
