Twins With the Queen Bee

Chapter 3: True Selves

I wake up feeling very embarrassed about last night. I notice that I'm not in a hotel room. I'm pretty sure I'm in a boy's bedroom. What the hell?  Quickly I sit up and search the bed. No one else is here, thank God. After I'm calmed down I look around. This room is like OCD clean. My nose couldn't be more happier for the decent smell. No clothes scattered around the room, no clutter on the desk or table lamps, no posters or pictures on the wall and everything just seems in perfect place. Picture frames lean on top of a table lamp and the drawer. The alarm clock is set in the right angle where you can easily see it and reach the snooze or off button. It's twelve forty-one right now. A stack of paper and some pencils sit perfectly aligned on the desk with a reading light perched in the right spot. I really want to move the pencils and make them crooked so badly.

I lay back down, confused of where I am yet relieved he–whoever he is–is not here or that I'm in a safe clean place. I turn over to lay on my left and that's where I see my bag.

Time to get up. My mouth tastes awful with morning breath and my bladder's full. I grab my bag before opening the door. The room is at the end of a hallway. I can see an old beige couch from here at the other end of it. The bathroom I find on the right.

It's not small but it's not big either. My reflection looks horrible. This is the worst bed head I've ever had. It's like a blond medusa. I can see clearly the pushed down sadness in my hazel eyes. Ignoring my reflection I go on to brush my teeth, get dressed and relieve my bladder.

Once I'm done I head to the living room with my bag slung over one shoulder.

"Rise and shine." A masculine accented voice says. My direction turns to head where the voice came from and it's no other than Ryder whatever his last name is. The one and only. "It's quarter after one. Late sleeper?"

"Uh where are we?"

Ignoring my question Ryder points out the breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon that he made. Which smells really good. He has two plates set up on the small island in the kitchen. I've never seen a dish that looked so plain. I love it! For scrambled eggs and bacon our chefs would put all theses spices in the eggs and they would take out the grease of the bacon, and there would be much more food like toast and pancakes.

"Belle are you okay because you've been staring at my food like its Harry Styles."

I smile. "Really? Harry Styles of all the hot guys out there? You really are British aren't you?"

"One, I am a proud Canadian. Two, I sort of knew Harry so don't hate okay." He puts his hands out and does a pushing motion for the last statement.

I raise my hands up in surrender. "Fine I won't hate on the Styles if you don't hate on the Biebs." I shocked him there. I can't help but laugh at his expression. Plus I don't even care.

"Okay, then you can't hate on the Deles." He says in a more quieter and sincere voice–like it would kill him if anyone hated Adele–while crossing his arms.

"I love Adele!" I say way too excitedly.

Ryder laughs at me then grabs his plate and heads to the small dinner table in the corner. I follow after, putting my bag down, ready to eat. First bite... holy shit! He's a really good chef.

My eyes dart to Ryder. He's looking at me. With a proud smile on his face. I smile back after swallowing my bite. I'm guessing cooking is his number one talent. Anyone can see it in his eyes. You just have to look.