Mr. Cinderella (5SOS) {discontinued}

(3) We Meet The Royal Family

"So do you want cereal or a cooked breakfast?"

Brandy cocks her head slightly as she considers the breakfast options I've given her.  Today is Saturday, and although I offered to let her have a lie in so she could settle in and sleep off the jet lag, she was up bright and early - about an hour before me, actually.  I woke up to her sitting next to me on my bed, scrolling through my Skye contacts to find Calum.  Luckily, I managed to swipe the laptop from her before she could copy his username and add him; I explained that, if she added Calum before meeting him, she might seem a bit . . . well . . . stalker-ish.

"What exactly are British cooked breakfasts like?" she asks.

Shrugging, I unscrew the lid from the family-sized carton of Tropicana in the fridge.  I raise my eyebrows, holding the carton up for Brandy to see, and she nods, so I pull a glass out of a cupboard and pour her some orange juice.  "Normally it's eggs, bacon, beans, sausages and toast I think, but-"

"Uh oh.  There's a 'but'."  I glare at Brandy, who sheepishly lowers her head, hiding behind a curtain of her hair.

"We don't have any bacon, and the sausages are meat-free ones," I continue.

Brandy combs her hair off of her face with her fingers, and I realise that her nails are painted the same shade of green as her eyes.  "Oh yeah, I forgot you're into all that animal-rights stuff," she comments.

"Hey!" I exclaim defensively.  "Animals are our equals!"

She rolls her eyes, but the smile playing on her lips lets me know that she's only joking.  "Okay, sure.  I'm cool with just toast."

Popping two slices of bread into the toaster, I grab my laptop, which is balanced precariously near the edge of the work surface.  "I'm gonna check in with Calum quickly, just to double-check what time he wants us over there."

Eyes wide, Brandy stares at me, gaping.

"What?"

"I'm in my pyjamas," she says, looking panicked.

"So am I," I reply.  What's the big deal with wearing pyjamas?  I can guarantee that Calum isn't even awake yet, so if he answers, he'll still be in bed; I doubt he'll care about us wearing pyjamas anyway, if that's what she's so worried about.

Brandy shakes her head, adamant.  "But you don't like Calum."

"Not true!" I say.  "I like Calum!"

"Yeah, as a brother," she snorts.  "Just message him instead of calling," Brandy suggests.

"Sure," I answer, clicking into the messaging option.

Wake up, I type.  When I get no response, I copy and paste the message about seven times.