Breaker

Chapter 6: Never Again

Chapter 6:

In the morning, I drag myself into consciousness and crack my eyes open slightly. The bright light coming in through the window sears my pupils and my eyelids snap closed again. Slowly this time, I open them millimeter by millimeter until I can see where I am. Posters of different bands and records of all genres cover the unfamiliar mocha colored walls. Eyebrows knitting in confusion, I try to grasp the still hazy memories from the night before, but they float out of my reach every time I get close. I sigh and look down at my hands and notice the strange shirt I am wearing. Images flash through my mind as I finally remember where I am. I am at Philip's house. In his bed. Wearing his shirt. Not wearing pants. Heat sneaks its way across my cheeks at the realization.

I check the space next to me, but it's empty. A small, unexpected sigh escapes my lips. Throwing the blanket off, my bare legs swing off the side and onto the plush, dark brown carpet. Silently padding over to his dresser, I tentatively open a random drawer and find a nice pair of soft, cotton pajama pants. I pull them out and step into them, enjoying the warmth they bring to my chilled legs. I tie the waist to my size and leave the comfort of Philips room to find him. My fingers trail the walls, which are decorated with school and family photos. My eyes find an early picture of Philip when he was little more than a toddler. His black hair wasn't very long, but his eyes were still the same pale blue, warm and inviting even as a child.

Dimples adorned his round cheeks and in his hands was a bright red toy guitar. After studying it for a minute or two, I continue down the hall and descend the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, the spacious living room stretches out to my left and the ornate front door is to my right. I head to the kitchen, lured by the tantalizing smells of hot, fresh French toast. When I push the swinging door, Philip is leaning against the counter with a spatula in his hand, wearing his boxers and nothing more. The sight of his lean but muscular bare chest and chiseled, flawless stomach, not to mention the rest of his nakedness, makes my face warm up and a strange hunger stir inside of me. His face lights up when he finally sees me standing there in the doorway, watching him.

"Good morning, beautiful, how was your night? Mine was wonderful, with you by my side..." he sings as he greets me, setting the spatula down and snaking his arms around my waist to pull me in for a kiss. He tenderly presses his lips to mine, sending shivers down my spine. He takes one of my hands and grasps it in his while his other hand pulls me up against his bare body. My face flames at our proximity. He smiles and we start to dance in circles around the kitchen, twirling to a made up melody. I throw my head back and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Philip merely pulls me closer, bringing his face down to nuzzle into my neck. When we finally stop, my head is spinning and my heart is pounding in my chest.

"I think we should get that French toast off of the griddle, now," I suggest, pointing to the darkening breakfast.

"I almost forgot about that," he muses, easily flipping them off of the hot griddle and onto the awaiting plate. I giggle and grab myself a plate from the cabinet along with a glass. I set those down on the island and grab a fork as well. I open the double doored  fridge and quickly find the gallon of milk in the door. I grab it and swing the door closed. I swing around and set the milk on the counter, pouring myself a glass to go with the breakfast.

"How many pieces do you want?" Philip asks, turning to face me.

"Eh, just give me two. Do you want any milk?" I offer, holding out the gallon jug.

"I'd love a glass," he grins, setting the plate full of French toast on the island. I grab a cup and pour him a glass. I replace the milk where I got it and shut the door. For the first time, I notice that we are alone in the house.