London born Gigi Lastra is struggling to make ends meet let alone make it big in the music business and make a name for herself. Working two jobs to keep her life afloat and provide for her family she's haunted by her past. That's until she meets t...
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The smell of citrus and mint wafts around my nostrils alerting my eyes to flutter open. My hands' fan across my duvet on top of me... wait, since when is my duvet grey? I quickly sit up squinting at my surroundings. Black furniture lines the spacious room contrasting with the grey sheets on the king-size bed, there's an indent in the mattress next to me but no body.
Suddenly I remember why I'm in a strangers bed. Last night Colton didn't really want me to be alone and I didn't fancy it much either so instead of letting me cry myself to sleep alone he let me cry myself to sleep in his arms. Shit, my face is probably blotchy as fuck. I get up in search of a bathroom, still in my silk dress but now with a mammoth tour hoodie over the top, it still smelt of his cologne. I trundle into the on-suite and take a look at my appearance, my mascara is gathered under my eyes, almost matching my dark bags, my eyes themselves are puffy and red along with my blotchy face. The state of the outside didn't even begin to match the state of the inside. Feeling completely drained I splash some cold water onto my cheeks and tie my hair up into a messy bun then go in search for my phone.
Finding it on the bedside table, plugged in, I pick it up and weave my way out of the bedroom door quietly. Lord knows where Colton is, did he run away again? I walk through his suite in search of my heels, if he has run away at least I can leave before he comes back and I'm thrown into an even bigger state of humiliation.
Fuck me, you could get lost in the place, it's huge. I pass through the living area to be met with the smell of... waffles? Following the scent, I end up in the kitchen watching a very shirtless Colton cutting something up on a chopping board. His muscular back tensing as he brings the knife up each time to throw it back against the chopping board. I lean against the door frame listing to him sing quietly, a sound I could listen to forever. Catching me off guard he turns around smirking, two plates of waffles in his hands, each covered in strawberries, whipped cream and syrup.
"Happy birthday Spiller." He says placing them down onto the kitchen island and gesturing for me to take a set next to him. In the angst of last night, I'd completely forgotten it was my birthday.
Twenty-two.
As much as a shirtless Colton giving me waffles on my birthday makes me want to squeal in excitement, my chest still feels heavy, painful. Trying to push it away since he's made so much effort not for me to be a grump I smile at him,
"You cooked?" I question, taking the fork he hands me. He sends me a sheepish smile,
"Well... I room serviced, cut some strawberries and put a few candles ontop..." He winces, making me giggle. I smile at the five candles alight on the top of the waffle stack,
"Thank you." I grin at him, he returns the facial feature his eyes bright and excited.
"Well make a wish doll..." I stare at the candles, what the fuck do I wish for? A less messy life, functioning parents, a nicer body, a prettier face, less baggage, to be fucking sane?
