Scent (Scomiche)

Trust Issues, Smush Tissues, Does That Even Make Sense? No, Nothing Does.

I wake up the next morning feeling a little better. The conversation Scott and I had last night seeps back in the less groggy I get, but I have nothing to be upset over, really. I was strong, and he was being a doofus. I’d say that’s pretty typical of us.

There is nothing I want more than a shower. Only one problem: I do not know how to operate his shower. I don’t want to go mess around in his bathroom without permission, so I head down to see if he’s awake. As soon as I’m on the steps, I smell breakfast. I almost forgot I’m staying at a baker’s house.

“Good morning,” he greets, turning and smiling as he maneuvers the spatula under one of the pancakes.

I reciprocate the message and wander over towards him, surveying all the food he’s beginning to put out.

“This is quite the spread,” I comment.

He nods a little. “Only the best for my guests. Well, my one guest. You.”

I give him a polite smile and watch the pancake batter bubble.

“Coffee is over there,” he points behind him in a twisted way because that’s not how arms bend. “Mugs are in the cupboard right above it.”

“Thanks.” I grab myself the mug with a huge strawberry on it and a little stick man trying to push it. It’s kind of eccentric but cute. I pour some coffee and pop a sugar cube in it because they’re right there.

“Cream is in the fridge and spoons are in the drawer to your right.”

I get both of those things and stir my coffee, then replace everything I moved. “Linds is already at school?”

“Yeah, it starts at eight.”

I glance over to the microwave clock. 8:36. Not too bad for me. “Did she get to have some of this delightful breakfast?”

He shrugs, broad shoulders outlined through his thin shirt. “She didn’t want any. I told her I was making it for you anyway, but she just took a granola bar and some fruit.”

Doesn’t sound like the Lindsey I used to know. She’s changed, and that’s okay, I guess.

“Do you want anything in these pancakes? Chocolate chips? Blueberries? Bananas on top? Tell me your flavor.”

I lean my hips against the counter, steaming cup of coffee wrapped in my two hands. “Chocolate chips with bananas on top?”

He clicks his tongue. “I like your style.”

While he’s grabbing the needed ingredients, I walk out of the kitchen and sit down at the dining room table, which is right on the other side of the counter. As the pancakes get done, he flips them onto a plate and slices bananas over them.

“Do you want any help?” I ask.

He shakes his head, but he’s facing away from me. “Nope, I’ll be over in just a second, Mitchie.”

I furrow my eyebrows even though he can’t see me. Mitchie? M’kay…

Soon enough he’s placing a full plate of food in front me. It has two pancakes on it with different fruits and bacon on the side. He goes back over and makes up his own plate and grabs us some silverware, remembering to turn off the griddle, too.

“Thank you so much,” I say, taking my silverware from him and slicing up my pancake.

He runs back into the kitchen once more and grabs syrup from the fridge, puts it on the table, and sighs in relief that he’s finally done. “I hope you like it.”