Taken

Chapter 32

My eyes slowly open as I take in the newfound light that creeps in through the blinds.

I groan as I stretch my arms and hit my hands against the headboard.

Wait...headboard?

I thought I fell asleep with Harry on the couch. I remember us laughing as we told stories of our childhood. Mostly me, however. I told him more of my family before my mother leaving. We were so happy. We were so oblivious to the future we were destined to have.

A faint smell of pancakes fill my nostrils and instantly lift me from my thoughts.

"Mmm.." I moan to myself and hop off the bed practically jogging to the kitchen.

"What smells so good?" I grin as I take a seat on the stool behind the tile counter.

"Look who's up." Harry chuckles as he flips the sweet dough with a spatula.

I giggle back to him and lay my head on the counter before propping it back up,

"Did you put me back in my room?" My eyebrows knitted together for his answer.

"No. I put you back in my room." He corrects me and continues to flip the pancakes expertly.

"Why?" I'm honestly curious. Did he not want me to sleep with him? Has he ever had a girl actually sleep with him?

"I woke up and you were still sleeping on-top of me, and I didn't want to wake you. I didn't want you to have to sleep on that shit couch, so I just put you on the bed. Then, I decided to make breakfast for when you did actually get your arse up and here we are." He lifts his hands, showing me the place, and turns back around to the stove.

"Oh." I say embarrassed of my own selfish thoughts. "That was very considerate of you." I add, showing my appreciation.

"It's really not a big deal." He shrugs it off.

I watch as he stands with baggy, grey sweats and a black t-shirt covering his lean body.

His muscles slightly flex as he maneuvers the thin dough; his black storybook on his forearms slightly derange with his movement.

His lips moving slowly as if they aren't just speaking a word, but caressing it as he talks about how a terrible cook he is and hopes that I don't get sick.

His chest vibrating as he laughs when I tell him if I'm still alive after my own cooking, then I can survive anything.

"He we go." He sighs as he sets two plates filled with sweets and delights in front of and next to me.

My mouth waters from just the smell, and I don't wait till Harry finally takes a seat till I take a big bite out of the stack.

The pancakes practically melt in my mouth, and I let out a deep moan. I haven't eaten food this good in so long. Food that's not bought at a random vending machine in a hotel hallway.

"You like it?" Harry questions, and I can tell by the insecurity in his voice he's not sure.

I instantly feel the need to comfort him as I nod,

"They're absolutely delicious, Harry!" I cherish him and place my hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"And you said you were a terrible cook." I roll my eyes and continue eating the delightful meal.

"I didn't want to get your hopes up." He laughs and looks back down at his untouched plate.

"You aren't going to eat?" I furrow my eyebrows and drop my fork as I place my hand behind his back.