Long Distance - Seth Clearwater

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I don't remember getting home last night, let alone getting into bed but here I am. I'm not even wearing pajamas.

I feel hungover, like that one night in Amsterdam with the really cute guy called Anton who told me that I was the most beautiful girl in the world, only for me to find out he had a girlfriend who was in the same show as me the next day. How awkward was it to walk the catwalk next to a girl whose boyfriend I had nearly slept with the night before.

But I pushed the memory to the side and got out of bed; the bed was quite large, maybe a king, and the sheets were some of the softest I'd ever felt. But the quilt was my favourite part because despite the very expensive bed and sheets, the quilt was handmade and full of love. It was a bright purple with gold criss-cross squares and intricate swirls and floral designs in white and gold. It almost looked like something you would find in a street vendor in a foreign country, or it was almost something a royal might own with its strong hues of purple and gold.

I ruffle my hair from its sleepy, knotted state and stumble out of bed in a fatigued daze. Not wanting to be in my clothes from the day before, I reach for one of my bags that Ben brought up before or after I passed out, and begin sifting through the pile of clothes. Before choosing anything though, I use my phone to check the weather and it's supposed to be a nice 68 degrees outside, so that warrants a t-shirt and jeans. So pull out a pink t-shirt and my comfiest, worn jeans and a pair of runners and head to the shower that attaches to my room.

My shower is short, but I make the water as hot as I can stand it to ease the kinks in my shoulders and neck from the past day's flight. Once I'm out, I slather my body in a cream that smells like baking and has a slight shimmer to it, leave my face natural except for some moisturizer and clip my wet hair up and off my shoulders. I slip on my white shoes and walk down the stairs to the kitchen to see if Ben is up. Luckily he is and he greets me with a smile.

"Are those your church jeans?" He asks and puts a box of cereal in front of me and a carton of milk. I give him a confused look and he laughs. "They're holy jeans!" I look down and understand his joke; my jeans have holes in them.

"That was an awful joke," I laugh.

"But you laughed," he says with his back turned to me as he fiddles with something on the stove. "Eat your cereal, or do you want me to make you something else?"

I feel bad but I open my mouth, "I'm actually allergic to milk... I can just make myself toast or something," I mumble.

"Nora don't apologise it is fine!" Ben says and takes the milk away, "I had a boyfriend once who was lactose intolerant and he really enjoyed almond milk, would you like some? Or I can just make some more eggs and toast,"

"I'll have what you have," I say sheepishly.

Ben spins around with a happy grin, "I'm so happy you don't stick to those strict model diets, Nora. They're so unhealthy and I don't want to see a beautiful girl like you waste away because of your job."

"Yeah don't worry," I reassure him. "I don't plan to become like that at all; I promised my parents I'd drop a gig if they told me I had to eat next to nothing in order to work."

"Smart girl," he said and then turned back to the stove where he cracked two more eggs into a pan and began to whip them around in order to scramble them. "Do you like anything in particular on your toast? I have homemade jams and jellies from the ladies who sell their things at the market, or I have plain butter or avocado and turkey. Anything really, you want it and I probably have it in my fridge,"