Pretty Boy (manxboy)

Chapter Twelve

Sam

I woke up with a small headache and didn't have the slightest idea where I was.

It took a few more seconds for me to come to the quick realization that I was in Gabe's guest room.

I had gotten way too drunk last night and he had so sweetly carried me to bed and tucked me in.

My eyes widened and my stomach sank as I remembered what I had called him last night.

Daddy.

What the fuck had come over me? What on earth had compelled me to call Gabe Daddy?

The thought had never crossed my mind before. But apparently some alter ego had decided to slip out last night and cause me to make a total fool of myself.

How was I supposed to go downstairs and face Gabe? How was I supposed to look him in the eye after that?

I was mortified, but I knew that I couldn't stay in bed forever.

The clock on the nightstand informed me that it was always ten am, so I knew that Gabe was most likely awake.

I couldn't hide here for the rest of the day and just hope that he forgot about me, so I pushed the blanket off and sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

When I stood up, I saw my shoes and socks on the floor. It was nice of Gabe to make sure I was a little more comfortable as I slept last night, but I was glad that he hadn't tried to undress me further than that—I might have just embarrassed myself even more.

I picked up my shoes and socks and then headed for the door.

I opened it quietly and began heading for the stairs.

As I started heading down, I began to hear sounds coming from the kitchen. So I was correct in my assumption that Gabe was probably already awake.

Only a moment after hearing the sounds coming from the kitchen, I smelled something burning and heard Gabe curse loudly.

I hurried my pace, setting my shoes and socks down by the foot of the stairs before quickly heading into the kitchen.

As I stood in the entry way to the kitchen, I saw Gabe pulling black pieces of toast out of the toaster, wincing and shaking his hand after dropping them onto the counter.

The toast may have not survived, but the bacons and eggs he was cooking didn't look that bad.

I smiled and he must have sensed my presence because he turned to me, a wide grin forming on his face when he saw me.

"Good morning, Pretty Boy," he said confidently and not at all like a man that was unable to cook toast correctly.

"Morning," I said and headed over to him.

When I was close enough to touch him, he ran his thumb over my cheekbone, a concerned look falling over his face. "Feeling okay? Hungover at all?"

"Just a little," I said with a small smile.

I knew a few moments ago, I had been terrified to face him, but now that he was here and I could see him, feel his touch, and smell his masculine scent that I was coming to know by heart, it was impossible to be anything but happy.

I believed that was the moment that I knew this wasn't just friendship, this wasn't just a crush.

I was in love with him.

And it terrified me more than anything.

I had never been in love before.

And the most troubling part was that Gabe was married.