Road Tripping

10

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"SO BEAUTIFUL," I mutter lovingly at my chicken nuggets that are placed on a tray in the oven. "Thank you!" Jackson shouts from his cross legged position atop the dining room table. "Shh!" I hiss at him. "Don't disturb them!"

Nate raises an eyebrow at me, which I only see out of my periphery due to my intense gaze over crumbed heaven. "They're inanimate objects, Laila." Nate says matter of factly. He starts again, a cheeky and suggestive tone dripping from his words. "You could always focus on something more... Alive. Moving. Warm." I instantly pick up on what he means, and when my face immediately brightens and I stand to my feet, Nate smirking deviously the entire time.

He angles his body around as I pace closer towards him, and I watch as he lifts a finger and brushes it across his bottom lip in what is almost an act of anticipation. Judiciously, I slip by Nate, sauntering into the living room. He grunts behind me in dissatisfaction, and Jackson snickers and crosses one leg over the other with a stupid expression on his face.

I laugh at how he pulls his lips down  into a tight smile, perfectly mimicking bossy office ladies who are utter asses. Jacks then proceeds to pick up a non-existent phone and talk to a non-existent person. Jacks and I were sleeping over with Nate and Lucas—albeit I was not entirely sure of where Lucas was. Nate still looks unhappy while he grumbles incoherent sentences under his breath; probably begging for the curse of Laila Andersen to be lifted.

With Puffy under my arm, I pace back into the kitchen and retake my eager position before the oven. Puffy curls up in my lap, purring as I scratch behind his ear. "Mama's good boy," I hum in approval. I look cheekily back up at Nate, and he too knows he contested me and I indeed complied—just perhaps not how he wanted. "Is this better?" I ask, and from what I know of Nate I expected him to give up and storm off, but he didn't.

"I was thinking more human. You know... More me." I accept the challenge he provides, and pull a maddened cat out of my lap and stand to my feet. Nate shuffles over, further into the kitchen, and pulls himself onto the bench by his hands. Slowly and broodingly, I walk closer until my face is inches before his. His breathing becomes ragged and features scramble into different moods and emotions.

And, in that same cliche-moment-ruining instant, I scrunch up my nose and drawl out a slanged, "nah," before sliding back onto the cool kitchen floor. "Bloody hell!" Nate shouts agitatedly and jumps off the counter and into the hallway. Jackson takes his position on the bench.

"You really piss him off. I would find it hilarious if I didn't know how he felt." I shrug in reply. "Fine," I smile, scrambling down Nate's descent to the hallway. When I tiptoe to his bedroom doorframe, the inevitable moment where I can't help but admire his attractiveness occurs, even while in an unkempt manner.

His hands are rested behind his head, and afternoon sunlight cascades elegantly through the window above his bed, making his hair (that I had decided was brown) look more blond. The sunlight accented his russet eyes serenely, gold sparkling in his gaze. He doesn't notice me, his stare firm and concentrated on the ceiling as if in deep thought.

However, Nate does notice me when I run ungracefully into the room, flopping onto the bed. I had startled him, and consequently I could distinguish quiet profanities. I slip one hand under his back, lacing it with the other hand which was draped over his torso, so I had encircled his body in my arms. My head moved to his shoulder, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.