I Dare You To Love Me Back

Chapter Three

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm golden hue across the room, gently pulling me from sleep. For a few precious moments, I stayed still, savoring the peacefulness. I realized Izzy and I were still tangled together on the couch, her arm draped over my waist, our bodies curled into the same position we'd fallen asleep in. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath, and a quiet contentment settled over me.

After a while, I stirred, trying not to wake her as I stretched. "Hey," I whispered, my voice soft in the quiet morning. "Izzy, wake up."

She mumbled something incoherent and snuggled closer, her face nuzzling into my shoulder.

"Izzy," I tried again, a little louder, gently shaking her. "C'mon, sleepyhead, I'm starving. What do you say we make some breakfast? Do we have eggs, milk, and flour? I could whip up some pancakes."

At the mention of food, her eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile curved her lips. "Pancakes?" she echoed, her voice thick with sleep. "Now you're talkin'. Pretty sure we got everything. And don't worry, we got coffee, too."

With that, we untangled ourselves from the blanket and each other. I felt a chill as her warmth left me, but I quickly shook it off and headed to the kitchen. Izzy followed, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

The kitchen was small but had a cozy, lived-in feel, with well-worn counters and a window overlooking the forest. I started gathering the ingredients while Izzy, moving a little sluggishly, found the coffee and set it brewing. The rich aroma soon filled the space, waking us up even more.

"Alright," I said, tying my hair back and rolling up my sleeves. "Let's make some pancakes."

Izzy grinned, more awake now, the scent of coffee working its magic. "Need any help?"

"You can be my sous chef," I teased, handing her a whisk. "Start mixing while I get the pan ready."

We fell into a comfortable rhythm, the morning light filtering through the window and casting a warm glow over everything. As I poured the batter onto the hot pan, the sizzle filled the room, and I hummed a tune under my breath.

Izzy, never one to let a moment pass without adding her own flair, started swaying to the rhythm, using the whisk as an impromptu microphone. "C'mon, Em," she said with a playful grin, her New York accent slipping through. "Let's dance."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm cooking, Izzy. I can't dance right now."

But Izzy wasn't having it. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the stove, spinning me around in a spontaneous twirl. I stumbled at first, trying to keep up with her energy, but soon I found myself laughing and twirling around the kitchen with her, the sound of our laughter filling the small space.

We dodged chairs and counters, our movements growing more exaggerated and silly. The smell of pancakes filled the air, mingling with the aroma of coffee, and for a moment, it felt like we were kids again, caught up in the sheer joy of the moment.

Eventually, we collapsed against the counter, breathless and laughing, our cheeks flushed. I glanced at the stove and gasped. "Oh no! The pancakes!" I rushed over to the pan, flipping the golden-brown cakes onto a plate with a sigh of relief. "We almost burned them."

Izzy grinned, still catching her breath. "Worth it. That was the most fun I've had in a kitchen in forever."

We finished cooking without further incident and sat down at the small kitchen table, eagerly digging into our breakfast. The pancakes were fluffy and delicious, and the coffee was just what we needed to shake off the last remnants of sleep.