Pictures of You [M. C.]

11

                 

(Song for this chapter: "Drive" by: Halsey)

"Riley," someone says as they poke my back.  I'm lying on my stomach with my head buried in the pillow, reluctant to open my eyes.  The person trying to wake me up lets out an annoyed sigh and flops their body on mine.  I groan at the sudden weight.  "I knew you were awake," Michael says, the smile evident in his voice.

            "Get off," I struggle to move from under him.  "You're crushing me."  He finally rolls off, waiting for me to get up as well.  Instead, I pull the covers over my head.

            "Riley, we can't have the best weekend ever if you're in bed the whole time.  Come on, I'm even going to make us breakfast!" he whines.  I'm not going to lie; him acting like a child is kinda cute in a way.  I laugh and sit up, pushing the blanket away from my body and stretch.  Sun fills my room through the window and the clock says it's a little after eight.  That's when I realize I slept through the whole night.  At that thought, I glance over at Michael who is already looking at me.

            Another realization hits me.  I always sleep well when I've been around Michael.  It sounds weird but it's true.  Being near him makes me relax and not worry so much about things.  He keeps me distracted in the best way.

            "I'm up," I say rolling my eyes, earning a yell of excitement from Michael.  "But," I begin, climbing out of bed, "only because breakfast is involved."

            "Food always works," Michael says smirking.  He practically tumbles down the stairs, me following at a slower pace.  As I walk into the kitchen, Michael is already pulling various pots and pans from the cabinets.

            "What exactly are you going to make?" I ask sitting at the table.

            Michael opens the refrigerator and sticks his whole head inside.  "I was thinking pancakes, bacon, and maybe eggs."  He pulls out ingredients he needs and some he doesn't then starts to make what I think is the pancake batter.

            "Do you even know how to cook?"  At that, he turns on his heels and holds a hand over his heart like I insulted him.

            "Yes I know how to cook thank you very much."  I hold my hands up in surrender and motion for him to continue.

            Half an hour later Michael sets two plates on the table.  He made everything he said he wanted to along with toast and a bowl of fruit.

            "You expect us to eat all of this?" I ask taking in all the food.

"Hm mm," he mumbles with his mouth full.  I scrunch my nose at him before taking a bite of eggs.  Michael watches me and raises his eyebrows.

            "They're good," I say eating more.  He gives me a satisfied smile and continues stuffing his face. 

            That's another thing I've noticed with Michael: I'm actually hungry.  It's almost as if being around him is starting to make me feel human again and I really like the feeling. 

            We finish our meal in relative silence except for the occasional comment about the food.  I didn't eat near as much as Michael but I ate nonetheless.  I help him clear the table and wash the dishes. 

            "Thank you for breakfast," I say over my shoulder as we ascend the stairs.

            "No problem.  Like I said, I'm making this the best weekend ever."

            "About that.  How are you going to make that possible?  What do you have planned?"

            "Honestly, I have no idea," he laughs.  "My plan is to make it up as I go along."