I Was Saved... by the Jerkface

PS3 and One Crazy Mom

My eyes opened, staring down at a fluffy pillow beneath my head. I inhaled, and in the back of my mind it registered that it didn't smell like my bedroom. I opened my eyes a little wider, squinting at the bright light that came through a huge window in the room I was in. I sat up straight, feeling the confusion wash over me. This was not my room. So where the heck was I?

It took a second for me to calm down enough to realize that there was a noise coming from the other side of the room, and all in half a second the memory of last night rushed into my head. Also, the noise I was hearing was Blake. Actually, it was music - it took me a second, but I knew he was playing the guitar.

I craned my head to my left, staring across the wide expanse of the nice room to see Blake strumming cooly on a guitar, unaware that I was awake. I sat like that, careful not to move incase he stopped playing, and just listened to him.

I have to admit, it was a nice way to wake up. All confusion and panic aside, he was an extremely skilled guitar player. His fingers flitted over the strings methodically and calmingly, soothing my heartbeat and making a smile appear on my lips. I didn't think he'd noticed me, but when he stopped playing abruptly he snapped his head up and put the guitar on the ground, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Look who's awake," he said, smiling at me. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, taking in his gorgeous features. "Why'd you stop playing?" I inquired, missing the slow, strumming sound in my ears.

"Because you were awake, silly," he said, ruffling my hair. I jerked away, but I was smiling.

"That doesn't mean you have to stop," I told him, pulling the covers off my legs and stretching. I could tell by the stiffness of my back and legs that I'd been asleep for a long while. "It was a nice way to wake up."

"Well good for you, but I wasn't trying to wake you up," he said, and I could feel the smugness coming on. I shouldn't have said that last part.

"I know," I said, staring at him for a moment longer, until the silence became a little bit awkward. I got off of the bed and made my way to the kitchen, bending down to peer into the fridge.

Blake laughed at me and the way I made myself at home, but reached around me nevertheless to grab the egg carton and other various ingredients. He had a surprisingly large stock of food.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching him turn on the stove and go around the kitchen.

"I'm making breakfast. You obviously have a way of telling people you're hungry," he said, gazing over his shoulder at me while whisking the eggs.

I grinned sheepishly, feeling a little blush creep over my cheeks. I wasn't that embarrassed, however, because I knew when it was okay to do things like that. I just had a feeling that with Blake, I could be more of myself.

"Well, I can help, if you want," I said, having had many experiences making my own breakfast when my parents were out of town or at work.

He turned to me, saying, "You're the guest."

"Yeah, but I kind of invited myself," I told him, not waiting for permission as I took the eggs from him and poured them into the now-hot pan, grabbing the spatula for stirring from the counter where he'd put it.

Blake must have sensed that I wasn't going down without a fight, so he let me do my thing. I asked for all the ingredients and put the breakfast together as he continued to watch me. I could feel his gaze on me the whole time, but I tried my hardest to focus on not screwing up the meal. It made me feel like a bug under a microscope, though.