Between Us

What Do You Say?

   There's a lot of noise coming from my kitchen. I'm curious as to what Derrick is up to. But I'm also too fucking lazy to get up.

   8:23. It's currently 8:23 am and he doesn't know I'm awake. He doesn't know that I haven't been able to sleep since the moment he decided to get up and leave me cold on my bed. Although, the being cold part is utterly my fault. I much rather his body warmth as opposed to the blankets I'm accustomed to.

   I'm not sure what he's doing to me. Dealing with guys isn't exactly my forte. I'm not used to guys being cute and sweet to me. Over the last couple of years I've been pretty good at only hooking up with assholes. The type that I don't have to kick out the morning after because they walk out on their own. Occasionally the random sweethearts would come around and try to set up a date or buy me breakfast.  Then I'd have to be a bitch and kick them out, making up excuses.

   But Derrick. I don't mind him being nice. I can't say Derrick is different, because he's not. In reality, he would probably fall into the asshole category. I am fully aware that he sleeps around and is a heartbreaker. But there's this connection with him, and it's not solely a physical one.

   Last night was amazing. I'm not sure why I kissed him like that, it wasn't supposed to get like that between us. We were supposed to keep it platonic. Fuck that. Fuck it all if I can't have him.

    "What the fuck am I saying? Great now I'm talking to myself."

   This has gone on long enough. I get my ass out of bed and walk to my restroom, picking up my shirt from the corner of the room on the way there. I look at myself in the mirror and see the dark circles underneath my eyes. That's not something new. I pull my hair up in a high bun and brush my teeth. It's the same routine everyday that it's become mechanical. After staring at myself some more I turn on the cold water and wash my face.

   It's now or never. Bare footed I walk out of the restroom, into my room, through my bedroom door and down the hall. The noise is getting louder by the step and my heart is picking up its pace. I stop at the kitchen entrance and lean against the door frame.

   He's not shirtless. For some reason my mind had conjured up the possibility of it. The possibility of him cooking me breakfast shirtless and sweaty. Oh fuck my life. He might as well be shirtless though, because goddammit. Wearing a shirt that fits you that good should definitely be a crime.

   Maybe it was the nerves last night, but I hadn't noticed his clothes then or how great they fit him. That plain black t-shirt and black skinny jeans fit him perfectly. Even if he does wear black all of the time.

   "Are you going to just stand there or are you actually going to make yourself useful?" He cuts into my train of thought without looking back.

   "Nope, I think I'll just stand here and stare at your ass," if only he could see the smirk plastered on my face.  With a deep husky laugh he looks over to me and with a wink mouths the word 'pervert' to me.

   With much reluctance, I push myself off the door frame and walk over next to him. Picking up one of the five eggs he has out, I start to crack one open and pour it into the bowl he has resting next to them.

   "What are you doing?"

   "I thought that was obvious, Princess."

   "Gross," I make a face at him. "Don't call me Princess."

   "Why not?" He asks with a chuckle.

   "I never get why girls like it. That's something my dad would call me, and the last thing I want to think of is my dad sexually."