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I'm back - 06 | thick as thieves

𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠
𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚑, 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚘𝚗𝚎

I felt movement next to me and I stirred not wanting to wake up just yet. As I started to settle back in I felt it again, that slight, almost gingerly movement.

When I opened my eyes I was confused. I looked around and all of my friends were asleep around me on the various couches, and the tv was blinking with static. That's when I remembered our movie night, I guess we all fell asleep while the movies were playing.

I yawned, feeling my stomach grumble as the feeling of hunger hit me. I hadn't eaten anything since the snacks last night and I was starving! I try to get up and off the couch, but I feel strong arms tighten their grip around me.

I look over and see a peaceful-looking Zach using me as a pillow. I sigh, "Zach," I whisper. He didn't respond, so I waved my hand in front of his face. "Zach," I stressed the h. Still nothing.

I don't know why, but I felt comfort in his embrace. I almost didn't want him to wake up. Not that he would, I'd already tried. So, to pass the time I started to gently run my fingers along his jaw and the outline of his face, tracing his features.

I thought he was still sleeping but suddenly his face contorted to a smirk and he said, "Having fun, princess?" I gasp as he opens his eyes and I'm met with that vibrant green.

I blush, suddenly feeling embarrassed?.. "Pshh, I have no idea what you are talking about." But it was too late, I was already caught.

He gave me a look, "Hmm, okay." He said in a certain tone I recognized as disbelief. He unwrapped his arms from around me and I got up, my stomach grumbling in the process. "You hungry?" He questioned, joining me.

I stared at him, shaking my head. "No, not at all. That was my new ringtone," he laughed at my sarcasm. "Yes, I'm starving." I said, walking towards the kitchen.

I pulled on an apron my mom had gifted me years ago, I'd left it here among the chaos. "You cook?" Zach asked, sitting on one of the barstools at the bar, watching me.

I nodded, "Try not to sound so surprised." He chuckled.

"Whatcha' making?" He asks, putting his chin in his hands. He looked majorly bored, but the rest of our friends still slept in the living room and I wouldn't recommend waking them up. None of them were morning people.

I shrugged, "I was thinking french toast."

French toast is one of my favorite things to make. It's quick, easy, and tasty. It's something my mother and father used to make me and Aiden every Saturday morning when we were kids. Though it stopped when dad's clients suddenly became more and more demanding.

I pulled out everything I'd need: eggs, bread, butter, sugar, cinnamon, and honey. I bit my lip as I looked for the pan and bowls I would need. I mixed the ingredients together before soaking the bread in the sweet-smelling mixture. I could tell that this was going to be a good batch.

I put them onto the griddle built into the middle of our stove and watched as they bubbled, and listened as they sizzled. I waited, and waited, and waited until the perfect moment. Then I scooped them up and flipped them, showing that perfectly achieved golden brown color.

I got deep into thought and I must've lost track of time because when I looked up and met Zach's gaze, he had a goofy grin on his face. "What are you thinking about?" He gave me a curious look. "What's going on in that pretty little head?"