Orphan (A Jack Gilinsky Fanfic)

3. Staying

KATHRYN'S POV

I jolt awake. My eyes crack open a sliver and I'm greeted with the sky still a sleepy lavender. My circadian rhythm wakes me at the crack of dawn. Usually at this time, I'd be starting the car to move from our remote sleeping spot near the dumpsters and behind the tennis courts to the small parking lot in front of the public restrooms. The warmth from my body radiates off the cotton sheets, and I see Jamie curled up into a ball sleeping soundlessly next to me. His expression looks so infinitely peaceful - no wrinkles on his forehead or furrowed brows from a sour dream - yet I still frown at the fact his knees are bound into his chest despite the ample room on the queen bed.

But I'll save that concern for another day; I want to enjoy this extraordinary feeling of having no responsibility - for another few hours at least. I stretch my legs to their fullest length and wiggle my carefree toes under the soft comforter. I'm going to miss this.

After a moment, I sigh as I heave myself off the bed, the springs creaking slightly. I trek to the bathroom and with a small gasp of surprise, I examine my face in the clean mirror, moving my atypically soft, conditioned hair behind my ears. I can hardly recognize myself. The bags under my eyes have decreased noticeably and I've regained color in my cheeks - without having to pinch them twenty times! Sleeping on an actual horizontal mattress can do wonders.

I hastily splash my face with warm water, only turning the faucet a fraction as to not wake Jamie with the sound of a full-on waterfall, before patting myself dry with a mint green towel. I tip-toe out of the bathroom, glancing at Jamie to ensure he's still sound asleep as I make my way for the door, shutting it softly behind me when I'm greeted with the stairs.

Entering the kitchen, I immediately check the cabinets under the sink for cleaning materials. Grabbing an unopened bottle of pomegranate dish detergent and a sponge that was still in its packaging, I wash the glasses Jamie and I used the previous night, placing them neatly in a drying rack. After drying my hands, I move to the living room and fold all the loose blankets into neat, symmetrical squares, placing them in a tidy pile inside the wooden chest next to the TV, ready to be used by the next guest.

I attempt to search for another mess waiting to be addressed, but the house is so well kept. It's completely spotless, down to the detail of even a speck on the window. The Gilinsky's have to have a maid of some sort.

Feeling underwhelmed, I creak open the front door and step outside, relishing in the fresh air, humid but cool. By now, the sunrise has already passed (to my disappointment, it's always my favorite part of waking so early) and the sky a light, almost white, blue. I cross the beautiful white bridge to the side door of the Gilinsky's home and hesitantly, knock twice.

I wait several minutes with no response. I immediately feel guilty; it's way too early, I hope I didn't wake anyone up. I move to turn around, but stop in my tracks when I hear light footsteps beyond the door. I watch the doorknob turn and the door swing open inward.

Mrs. Finnegan smiles upon seeing me and wipes her hands on her pink kitchen apron, this time riddled with a hundred tiny bulldogs. "Good morning, darling. You're up early."

"Yeah, I'm uh, an early bird." I stutter awkwardly, giving her a strained smile. How does she look so genuine all the time?

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah um, it was honestly the best sleep I've had in a long time." I say, truthfully, hoping the sincerity in my eyes can speak better than I can.

She smiles sweetly. "I'm glad. Why don't you come inside for some breakfast?" She opens the door wider and motions for me to come in. "I was just making some french toast."