If Only (GxG)

Chapter 11 New

A/N
🎶Valerie by Amy Winehouse🎶

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Alison's POV

The next morning, I wake around eleven and wander into the kitchen, craving coffee to start my day.

Olivia texted me about half an hour ago, announcing that Rachel and David would be stopping by for brunch, and politely requested extra waffle batter. I don't mind in the slightest; I love cooking, and they've come over enough times that it's no surprise.

I find Ivy and George already in the kitchen when I walk in, and they both greet me with a bleary "good morning." I have to bite back a laugh seeing George—he looks absolutely hungover.

"Please tell me it's a brunch morning, Al," he groans, practically hugging his mug of tea for dear life.

Most of us are students in one way or another, so we can't afford to go out for brunch. Our solution is homemade brunch, where we all chip in on ingredients, and I whip up a mean batch of waffles topped with fruit, drizzled with chocolate, plus bacon or hash browns on the side. It's delicious, if I say so myself.

I fail to stifle my snicker this time. "Don't worry, I've got you, bro. Just handle the cutlery when you can, you know, function." He nods miserably into his tea.

Ivy claps her hands, bouncing in place. "Right—let's get this day going. Positive vibes only, my friends!"

She flips on some music, and we're off. I set about making waffle batter, directing Ivy to chop fruit. Our large waffle iron has proven to be a lifesaver, and we've become quite the team at this point. As we cook, we (badly) sing along to the radio. After a few minutes, I hear the door buzzer—Olivia must be letting Rachel and David in.

A trace of nerves flutter in my chest at seeing Rachel again after last night's harmless flirting, but really, nothing happened besides that. I'm certain we'll be fine. My mind quickly drifts to Blake, as it's done all morning. Just thinking of her fills me with a light, airy feeling. I've decided to text her around two, in case she slept in. I'm not sure what time she got home last night.

Between the extractor fan and the sizzle of the waffle iron, it's hard to hear the conversation happening in the living room. On cue, Valerie by Amy Winehouse comes on, and Ivy and I belt out the lyrics with zero shame.

"Terrible singing!" George yells from the living room, which only makes us laugh harder as we keep going.

Moments later, I hear the telltale slide-and-thump of David skipping into the kitchen. "I have arrived to bid for thy waffles!" he announces in a deep, theatrical voice.

Without turning, I reply, "Well, good sir, thou should know thou dost not get any waffles without offering tribute," I say in my best (awful) attempt at medieval drama.

I transfer another batch of waffles to a warm tray in the oven.

"Fear not, fair queen," David declares. "I come bearing your favorite coffee from that shop near the bookstore."

I laugh and turn. "Thank y—" The rest of my sentence dies on my lips because Blake is standing right beside him—right here, in my kitchen.

I must have looked ridiculous, because David gave me a curious look while handing over the coffee.

"Thanks, David," I managed, still a bit breathless. My gaze wandered back to Blake almost immediately, as though I couldn't help myself.