Bittersweet Moments

8 | Sticky Toffee Pudding

8 | Sticky Toffee Pudding

I had this urge to squeeze their bathroom into my bag and take it home with me.

It was absolutely amazing. It was the kind of bathroom where you could take a long shower or soak in the bathtub, drowning in your immense thoughts and your own wonderland. It literally put the 'comfort' in comfort room that I could sleep in here or have a party or two. I was serious. They had these shiny lights around the delicate mirror, the subtle details in the walls and tiles made everything beautiful and a gorgeous array of soaps and toiletries sat in the swirling shelves beside the bath area. If this is what the guest bathroom looked like, I could only imagine what the master bedroom looked like.

With Brennan waking me up way before my wake-time, I already expected the dark creases under my eyes. But I couldn't care less. As I stood in front of the full length mirror in nothing but a towel, I cackled – laughed, to put it lightly – as I blew the blow drier on full-blast at the side of my head. It made my hair fly in different directions.

For anyone's information, I was used to letting my hair dry naturally, because I had lack of experience with a blow drier. I used to think it was strange – women would spend loads of electricity to blow hot air into their heads (as if they weren't already full enough of that). But experiencing it myself now, I loved the blast on my face and cheeks and on my hair, it tickled. I didn't bother to comb through my locks – the tornado-inspired hairdo after the blow drying was worth it.

Loud knocks from outside the bedroom pulled me out of my reverie. Frowning a bit, I set down the blow drier and marched over to the door. My phone woke me up this morning (set to an alarm which was a recording of my mother waking me up) but I might or might not have hit the snooze button a couple times. I wouldn't be surprised if they were asking for me already – there was school today and I needed to cook. I had planned to pull off a five-minute in the bathroom, but unfortunately the room itself was so inviting.

It was not Maira on the door, nor Brennan, but jackass himself. Jackson stood there, all dressed in his Acewell uniform, consisting of a jacket and slacks. I grinned in amusement as I saw his blanched face, "What? Haven't you seen a girl in a towel before?"

Those words tainted his cheeks with a pink color as he cleared his throat. He handed me some clothes, "Mom wanted me to give these to you. She hopes they fit." I took them from him and squinted at them – simple tee and simple jeans.

"No underwear?"

Another clear of throat. This one should really gargle some water. "No, sorry."

Of course no underwear – you can't expect that lying around anywhere. I shrugged, "Fine with me. Thanks, by the way." That was when I realized he was looking everywhere but at my face. My grin grew wider - he was so flushed.

Jackson was about to leave when I held him up. I took a step forward. He took a step back, blinking rapidly. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. This boy was so calm and collected yesterday and he even stole my bag. Obviously, he wasn't who I judged him to be because he complimented my Nutella spaghetti last night. But that could be the lack of sleep talking. And now, he was so flustered as if he was embarrassed in front of millions. "What is wrong with you?" I waved a hand in front of his face. "There is exactly one layer of cloth separating my naked body from your eyes. Tell me, is there something wrong that? Does it make a difference if I'm dressed?"

It was a pretty big towel, too.

And actually, I didn't mind prancing around our empty house in this. Towels were pretty comfy. So were bathrobes.

"No," he said through gritted teeth. But damn, he was still avoiding my eyes.

"Alright." But it wasn't alright. "Is your mom waiting for me to prepare breakfast? Tell her, I'll be down in a minute. It's still pretty early anyway – "