The Untouchables

Chapter 3 -- Underrated

Claire and I went out for the day. We'll be back for dinner. Breakfast is in the fridge, read the note that my mother had left for me on the kitchen counter. My first thought was, of course, that I would be stuck with the ever pleasant Zach all day. I could always ditch him, but something made me want to stay. I was quick to place the blame on the stalker pic I needed for Zoe.

I brought out a bagel from the fridge and plugged the toaster in, about to make some breakfast, but Zach once again popped into my mind.

I rapped my knuckles against his door several times. By now, he should have been awake; it was 10 o'clock, and Harlow was several hours ahead of New York.

It was a fairly late morning for me. Usually I woke up at around 8:30 to go for a run, but I was on an off day. I wouldn't say I was definitively a morning person, because nightlife in the city was always incredible, I think I could have just been considered anti-sleep. Scientifically, sleep was the body's way of rebooting its system, but to me it was just a waste of seven or so hours. The morning was when I could do all of the things I would be dreading later: running, showering, laundry, the list goes on. But that morning, I was sure that my body subconsciously knew I wanted to spend as little time babysitting Zach as was physically possible.

I knocked again, this time saying his name, "Zach."

The knob turned from inside and out came Zach. "What?" he said gruffly. Suddenly I was regretting all of my life decisions; he was only wearing boxers. My eyes tried not to slip lower than his neck, but it was extremely difficult. His half naked presence gave me this unexplainable feeling in the pit of my stomach; the same one I had gotten from Gabe, at least at first. His tan torso was lined with muscle, but not an overdone amount. His v-line was like an arrow pointing straight into his boxers, which were bordered by small wisps of dark hair at the top, and his legs, they were basically award-winningly perfect. I thought I was going to faint.

"So?" he interrupted my heated thoughts, bringing me back to reality. My eyes snapped to his.

"Right, so there are some bagels in the kitchen. Do you want one?" I nervously played with the sleeves of the crewneck I had put on, trying desperately to get my breathing back to normal.

His eyes glowered at me in thought. "Sure." He closed his door right in my face with no warning and went back to doing something I probably didn't want to know about.

Making breakfast for the both of us was just the start of how awfully I thought the day was going to go. I hated any type of cooking with a passion, even putting a bagel in the toaster. Most people I knew would say that cooking was relaxing, but for me it was the exact opposite. How could anyone possibly be relaxed by doing something that could potentially burn your house down or get your fingers chopped off? Not to mention I had always been a generally impatient person.

The bagels popped out of the toaster and I plated them separately. I topped mine with cream cheese and lox, leaving Zach's plain for him to decorate.

"Zach!" I called, hoping that he was able to hear me from his far room. In a matter of minutes, he came marching nimbly down the stairs. By then, he was fully clothed, thank God. "Here's some cream cheese and lox," I pointed at what I had just taken from the refrigerator, "And there's a lot of other stuff in the fridge if you want it. You can take whatever you want."

"Thanks," he mumbled, pulling his plate towards him. He took the cream cheese and the knife and began spreading it on.

We sat in silence, except for chewing, for a few minutes. "So you made that?" Zach asked accusingly, pointing to the bagel in my own hands. An odd question, I thought.