Displaced

Chevelle - Nine

Timber spent the night on the couch while Lara and I shared the bedroom. We had three bedrooms, but only one of them was set up for sleeping. One of the bedrooms had an office set-up with a rather swanky, large, wooden desk and a great view of the same blue sky outside of our living room. The second bedroom was a nursery, I kid you not, and that solidified in my mind what these aliens expected me to do with Timber.

Don't get me wrong, the guy was hot, and all of the physical aspects of making love/babies with him were there. I didn't love him or care about him enough to just throw myself at him, and I'm pretty sure he didn't love or care about me enough to reciprocate such a gesture. Besides, to him I was probably grotesque. No, I wasn't morbidly obese or anything, but I also didn't have anything resembling muscle definition on my stomach. Don't even get me started on my arms, my hair, my...everything. A guy like him just wouldn't be attracted to a girl like me. The. End.

Besides, preserving the human race or not, I didn't want to be a mother. Not yet at least. Maybe some day when I wasn't eighteen, had a stable living situation, and someone I loved more than life.

"Sleep okay?" Timber asked when we entered into the living room. He was already in the kitchen making breakfast. I thought maybe the previous day was a fluke, but he apparently liked to cook. Eggs, cheese, and some kind of mixture of vegetables filled my nostrils. I'm pretty sure they were peppers. I didn't like peppers, but Timber cooked them, so I felt obligated to eat them. Besides, Timber cooked them. I had to stay focused on some of the positives at least.

I nodded and walked into the kitchen to get something to drink for Lara and I. "You drink milk, right?" I asked, glancing over at her. I caught a nod and opened the refrigerator to pull out a carton of milk.

"I squeezed some orange juice earlier, so that should be good and cold by now. And there should be a fruit salad," Timber added as he worked his magic by the stove.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "Coffee?"

"There's a pot in here, but I didn't start one," he said. "I mean, I don't drink it. I shouldn't have assumed you didn't either. My bad."

I grunted and rubbed at my eyes before taking the fruit salad and milk over to Lara. "Don't worry about it too much. I was starting to worry you were one of the aliens. You're acting a little too fifties housewife for me."

He scoffed and dished up a skillet of red potatoes, red and green peppers, eggs, cheese, and tomatoes. Three plates, one for each of us, and he carried them over to the table.

"How can you not drink coffee," I mumbled and found some ground beans in a cupboard. I got to work setting up a pot for brewing. I slept like garbage, so I would need at least three cups to get myself to function.

"I stay away from caffeine all together, actually," he said softly. "I had this dream that I would be six-foot-three and a pro basketball player. Caffeine stunts your growth. Besides, the stuff isn't good for you, it gives me migraines, and a whole slew of other problems."

I gazed at him from across the room, folding my arms in front of my chest as I did so. "That doesn't sound normal to me."

He stumbled a little by the table. Either I caught him off guard, or he was also a klutz. I was leaning more towards the former.

His gaze rose from the table to meet mine. "Why are you staring at me?"

"What else is there to look at?"

"The coffee pot, the lights, the floor, a bunch of other things. So why me?"

I shrugged and turned back to the coffee pot which was now dripping some delicious-smelling brown liquid. "Just trying to imagine what you would look like in a cute little apron."