Hey, Love (One Direction)

Fifteen: Silence of the Lambs

Fifteen

I thought it was really sweet- and really unnecessary- that Harry had given up his bed for me. It was really soft too- almost the second my head hit the pillow, my eyes shut and I was fast asleep before I could even feel guilty about making him sleep on the couch. In the morning though, when I opened my eyes and had a mini-heart attack, forgetting where I was momentarily, my memories seeped back into my mind and I calmed down, before the guilt over took me.

Even though my limbs were weak, as they always were in the morning, I managed to pull myself up and out of bed, to go see if Harry was awake yet- or anyone else, for that matter. I decided I’d tell him that it was nice of him to give up his bed for me, but I’d be taking the couch from now on, so he didn’t have to. If I could even face him after last night...

I tiptoed over to his bedroom door, pulling up his pants that were loose around my hips, and readjusting his baggy ‘Rolling Stones’ printed t-shirt, making sure I was completely covered up- I was not letting anyone see any more than they needed to ever again. I opened the door and walked out into the lounge, where Harry was fast asleep on the couch, most of him hidden under a blanket.

I smile to myself at the sight of him, and glance around, looking for someone else, but they’re still all asleep, even though the clock on the wall reads 10:30 AM. Livvy in Liam’s bed, probably, and Serena in Louis’. I hope they’re only sleeping... Suddenly, I feel awkward being in a house full of couples. That’s when my mind wanders.

Are me and Harry a ‘couple’? I didn’t think we were, but then... What are we? So we’ve kissed once, hold hands occasionally... We haven’t even been on a date or anything.

With a slight groan, I try to clear my head, and walk into the kitchen, deciding to put my Home Economic cooking skills to good use for them. It was the least I could do after all.

For a while, I fumble around in all the cupboard and drawers, searching for the right utensils and pans that I need in order to cook a suitable meal for them. I eventually move to the fridge, where I find lots of eggs. I’ll cook some omelettes I think. It’s the thing I’m best at cooking.

Whipping up the ingredients’, trying to make as less noise as possible so I don’t wake them, and soon enough, the omelettes are all cooking on the stove, just as a sleepy Niall walks into the kitchen.

“Jaz,” he whispers groggily, glancing at Harry on the couch for a moments. “What you doin’?”

“Cooking breakfast,” I reply with a small smile.

Niall sniffs. “It smells good. Too good. Did you poison it?”

“Maybe...” I scratch the back of my neck nervously for a moment, kidding of course.

“As long as it tastes good, I can eat it and die happy.”

“No guarantees,” I say. “But I’ll try my hardest.”

When the first omelette is done, I serve it up for Niall, who takes it, his eyes shining as he starts to shovel it into his mouth with his knife and fork. The Irish boy sure is a hungry one.

I laugh at him, and quickly, another two omelettes are cooked up and ready on separate plates, and a few minutes later, Livvy and Liam walk out, looking sleepy as their hands are connected. I pretend to ignore that last fact, greet them and hand them their plates, which they take happily.

“Is it any good, Niall?” I ask, curious.

He turns back to look at me for a moment, his mouth full, and nods vigorously. I smile.

“Good.”

I turn back to the stove for a moment, my back turned on the others as they eat at the table, and I finish another two omelettes. When I turn around, plopping them onto more plates, I nearly jump when I see Harry on the other side of the counter, his hands snaking out for the plate quickly. “Morning,” he grins.