I wake up slowly. I can vaguely hear some muffled speech, like it's at the end of the tunnel and all that my ears are catching is stifled reverb. Someone's trying to get my attention, I think. Then, I notice the palm repeatedly but gently tapping at my cheek. I let out a little groan before things start to become clear: Scotty's telling me to wake up.
I gradually open my eyes, and once they are able to focus, I squint at Scotty smiling down at me. "How the heck do you sleep on your back?" he teases.
"I'm old," I tell him, sighing heavily as my body wakes up.
"You're not that old," he says, patting my arm. "Did you sleep okay?"
I let out a little grunt and blink the sleep out of my eyes. "Would've slept better if you hadn't woken me up," I say with a slight smile.
He laughs. "I think thirteen hours is plenty of time," he says.
Thirteen hours? Jesus Christ. I yawn, hovering the back of my hand over my open mouth before sighing again. "What time is it?"
"Almost one-in-the-afternoon," he says. What a waste of a day. Then again, I'm happy I finally got to get some solid sleep in. With all the stress lately, it feels like it's been forever since I've gotten more than four or five hours in. "C'mon," he adds, tugging at my arm lightly. "Come say hi to mom before she has to go back to work."
That's right. It's a Thursday. Eric and Yasmine both work nine-to-fivers during the week, with Eric as a business consultant and Yasmine as a project manager at some beauty company. She must be on her lunch break right now. Her job is pretty close to the house, making it easy to swing home for lunch with her son. But still, it's a weekday... "Shouldn't you be in school?" I mutter as I sit up with a groan.
"Mid-winter break, remember?"
"Oh, right," I murmur as my memory floods back to me. Giving schoolkids another week off in February seems somewhat silly to me. Is Christmas break not enough?
Scotty chuckles at me as I slide my sleepy ass out of bed. I run my fingers through my hair before stretching a bit, happy that I don't have morning wood (or afternoon wood, I suppose), because I would have been too out of it to notice it until it was too late.
I follow Scotty downstairs, and the closer we get to the bottom, the louder the unmistakable sounds of Yasmine fussing in the kitchen become. She emits a certain chaotic energy whenever she cooks. I love the woman dearly, but she's not exactly a master chef, and she's quick to be frustrated with her food even when she's not the one cooking. When we turn the corner into the kitchen, she's in the middle of quietly cussing out a small pot of rice that she seems to have managed to burn, begrudgingly attempting to scrape the grains from the bottom.
"I told you to just buy the instant rice," Scotty says as he heads over to his mom.
"It just doesn't taste the same," she murmurs, looking over at her son. That's when she notices me, and her eyes instantly soften. She at least looks pleased to see me. "Antoni!"
I smile at her. "Hi, Yasmine." Scotty must have told her that I was here. Either that, or she saw my car in the driveway. Who knows.
"Sleep well?"
"Too well," I mutter, and both Scotty and Yasmine laugh.
"You hungry?" she asks me. "I can't really offer you anything, but--"
"I was gonna take Uncle Ant out for lunch," Scotty says as he sits up on the counter.
I blink, looking at him. "You were?"
"Yeah. Something starchy for that hangover," he adds with a little grin.
"I'm not hungover," I say defensively, but Yasmine just chuckles a bit before abandoning the pot and sticking it into the sink to soak.
"I wouldn't blame you if you were," Yasmine says before sighing heavily. "Well, I should get going, because now I have to pick up lunch." She looks momentarily irritated by that prospect before smiling brightly at me and coming over to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You hang in there," she murmurs to me before turning her attention to her son. "Behave yourself," she says, giving Scotty a peck on his cheek as well before grabbing her purse.
"Bye, Mom," he says, smiling at her as she rushes away. Once she's out the front door, Scotty turns to me and smiles. "Hungry?"
I shrug. "Maybe a little," I say, trying not to eye him too intently. "Where are you taking me?"
"Probably Pop's Diner," he suggests. "I'm craving a milkshake. Sound good to you?"
"I'm fine with whatever you want," I tell him.
He seems to find that funny. "'Course you are," he says before sliding off the counter. "I'll get you some clothes." Then, on his way past me, he slaps my chest, chuckling to himself. I just watched him leave, watching the way his pants hug that tight little ass of his. Then, I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. I need to stop looking at him like that. It'll only bring trouble.
Scotty brings me some more spare clothes of Eric's since he put my clothes from last night in the washer. I stuff myself into jeans that are a little too snug for my liking, but at least the shirt fits fine. Then, we both throw on our coats before heading to my car. I drive this time, but it's not that much of a drive. Pop's is a mere ten minutes away.
As soon as I hit the road, Scotty speaks up. "You sleep okay?"
I snort. "Like a rock."
"I actually tried waking you up earlier but you wouldn't budge," he says, laughing. "I thought you were dead."
I don't know why, but I get hot knowing that he was in my room while I was asleep. "Did you need something?"
He shrugs. "I was just bored," he says before looking at me. "Was the bed okay?"
"Yeah," I say, glancing at him with an amused smirk.
"Had enough pillows and blankets?"
"You don't have to stress about me, Scotty," I tell him with a laugh, even though I appreciate that he cares about my comfort.
"Well, I'm gonna," he says defiantly. I just smiled to myself, focusing on the road and not on the fact that all I want to do is kiss this boy.
When we get to Pop's, we grab a booth and put in our orders before discussing a weird dream he had last night. He's a senior in high school, and with college coming up, he's been having stress-dreams about the future. The food comes by pretty quickly and all at once: a big breakfast platter for me, and a milkshake and an omelet for Scotty. As soon as the pancake breakfast is set in front of me, I realize how hungry I am. The intermingling scents of hot cakes, sausage, and eggs fill my nostrils, and I pick up my fork and immediately start gorging. Scotty chuckles as he sips his milkshake, having barely looked at his omelet yet. In my periphery, I see him pick up his fork, but I'm too busy stuffing my face to hear what he said.
"Whuh?" I ask, chewing.
"I said, you're a mess," he tells me, smiling at me. Then, grabbing a napkin, he leans over and wipes something off of my chin. The moment feels so... innocently intimate that I forget to keep chewing for a moment.
"Sorry," I murmur, taking my time now. Plus, I'm all flushed. I look around at the rest of the diner, wondering if anyone saw that.
