The Writer & The Player #Wattys2016

Chapter 11

I awoke to the calming sounds of the ocean waves that eventually got drowned out by the aggravating sound of a blender.

Whatever Zac was doing, it was not OK.

I flip the quilt off my body rapidly as my eyes meet my semi-dark room, that had shreds of light coming through the blinds I almost broke trying to close last night.

My feet graze the plush carpet as I push past the bedroom door and stomp down the stairs, stopping for no one. My head swivels as I clutch the railing of the stairs, making the world around me go into a slight whirlwind. 

I got up to quick. 

My hazed thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound that got me up in the first place. That stupid, loud motor noise. I steady myself then pace on down, slightly disorientated from my whereabouts then quickly recomposed myself as I get closer to the source of noise. And the person to inflict the noise upon me. 

My eyes squint from morning sunlight flowing into the lounge room and kitchen, as my eyes faintly meet Zac's in aggravation. 

Nobody interrupts my sleep. Not twice.

He smiles at first, then morphs into a smirk as his eyes travel down my body judging my chosen outfit of clothing, which I so blindly forgot about when I stomped out of my room.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shout in a voice that attempts to compete with the sound of the blender. 

He turns his back towards me and flicks the dial on the blender until I hear the blissful sound of silence. 

"I am making my breakfast smoothie." He informs me, looking at me over his shoulder with a smirk. He was already dressed for the day; in black jeans and a dark blue and green flannel with rolled up sleeves that clutched around his athletic muscles. "The real question is, what are you doing?" 

I raise my eyebrows at him as he turns with the jug and glasses in his hands over to the island bench and pours two drinks, keeping his eyes trained on me. 

I look down at myself, as I feel a burn creep up in my cheeks at embarrassment. It's not like he hadn't seen my pajamas before, because he had, the night he decided to wreck mine. But for some reason the embarrassment lodged itself into my stomach and visibly showed itself in my cheeks, and there was no stopping it.

I press my lips together in a thin line, trying to recover myself. "I wouldn't have stomped down here looking like this if it wasn't for you and that stupid blender! And you've seen my pajamas before, so I don't see what's different now." 

Maneuvering around the kitchen island, I stay still in my place a few metres away as he steps closer to me, offering me a glass of the smoothie that was the cause of my sleep disruption. 

"The difference is, this time I am sober." He smirks. "I don't really remember anything before the flight."

My fingers wrap around the glass as I eye the thick green substance Zac calls a smoothie, my heart starting to beat quicker by his close proximity. "Well I don't appreciate being woken by the sound of a churning blender. I really don't." I say. "Especially when it was just for green sludge."

He stands tall above me, as his cologne enters my airways, engulfing me into a aromatic world of pine and jasmine for a split second. I had to find out what brand it was.

His face scrunches up offended by my words. "I'll have you know that the smoothie you are honoured to be holding in your hands right now was made from the freshest ingredients, and from the Masterchef himself, yours truly." 

I raise an eyebrow as he gestures for me to try it, then cautiously take a sip. I was never one for smoothies; thick shakes were my kind of thing. My tastebuds are fired up by the flavours of ginger, spinach, oranges and what I think was watermelon, and it was surprisingly pleasant.