From Yesterday

F O U R

Did You Know That Pasta Is Good For Breakfast?
Lunchtime, 1:30 p.m.

- Please, make yourself at home. Feel free to use any of the bathrooms and, by all means, look around while I start cooking - Jared said, as soon as we stepped inside the mansion and he'd locked the front door behind us. He removed my bag from his shoulder and gently passed it over to me.

I thanked him for his hospitality and proceeded to go on a quest to find one of the many bathrooms. But as it turned out, that was easier said than done. I had been looking for almost 10 minutes, opening every door I found, and nothing. In fact, I almost managed to get lost on my way back to the kitchen, to ask for a little assistance...

By the time that I had got there, Jared had changed and was already about to prepare the food. He laughed at my incapability to find even one bathroom, but helped me nonetheless, escorting me to the first right-hand-side corridor from the kitchen, first door to the right. I could have sworn that I had checked that room too... Never mind.

The house was brilliant, with huge open spaces, wooden floors, and walls decorated with some of Bartholomew Cubbins' (a.k.a. Jared's) drawings. The modern architecture of our days collided with the occasional green plant, yet the house included cosy furniture and countless American style, open fireplaces. Not even mentioning the fact that every other room was filled with instruments, surely worth a million dollars. A Grand Piano here, a Drum Set there, and how could I forget about the occasional Guitar (both acoustic and electric) & Bass collections? I couldn't believe that Shannon and Jared actually owned this place. And I had thought that the tent I shared with three other people was luxurious...

Entering the bathroom was flabbergasting. The sink was made out of marble and so were the tiles on all walls, yet the floor was heated, warming my feet. There was a toilet in the room, a shower, a romantic type of bathtub and even a medium sized sauna. Also, a rather large smokey window in the wall facing the door, with an oak tree shelf stashed with white, fluffy towels beside it.

I hope Jared won't mind me borrowing one.

I was thinking, as I proceeded to open the window a trifle, so that the steam from the shower could escape through the opening. I put my change of clothes from earlier this morning on the sink. I decided to use the shower, thinking that I didn't want to waste my most precious time (in Jared's company) on getting a bath.

As the hot water touched my skin, simmering through my hair, washing the salt off me, my body relaxed. Although, I could only find one body wash. It smelled like star fruit, vanilla and summer... Jared, you sneaky bastard, I tutted disapprovingly, as I remembered that that's precisely what he smelled like.

When I was done, I grabbed one of the towels, drying myself off. I was in the middle of getting dressed when I heard singing. Looking around, I anticipated to see a radio of some sort, but there was nothing. I searched for the source of the song and soon enough I realised that it came from the open window.

The kitchen was only a few feet away, I remembered instantly. Jared must have opened the window and started singing. I fixed my hair in a messy bun with a crunchy I found in my bag, then sat down under the window sill, just enjoying the private show.

🎶 We were the Kings and Queens of promise
We were the victims of ourselves
Maybe the children of a lesser God
Between Heaven and Hell, Heaven and Hell ... 🎶

As he paused for the imaginary beat, I picked myself up, wandering out into one of the many halls again.

When I stepped into the kitchen, I remarked on that the window was indeed open, Jared was still singing and whatever he'd cooked up smelled delicious. Though I cursed myself for it, my stomach clenched, out of control, rumbling impatiently, teased by the scent of food. I had until that moment been leaning against the wall, watching him work, with my arms crossed loosely across my chest.