Love/Fail

Chapter 5

Annoying Pinspiration Quote #4

"I did not fail – I succeeded in finding out what did not work."

"Daughter?"

"Ugh..." Drawn from catatonic slumber by my father's booming voice, I flung an arm over my face. "What?"

"Why is the man from the cover of last month's GQ magazine in my kitchen, wearing your jumper and burning my toast?"

"What?" I sat bolt upright on the couch, still fully dressed from the night before, Rupert's scarf draped around my body like a blanket. "He's still here? I can explain, I swear."

"Mmm hmm..."

It was actually an innocent situation; Rupert had insisted on escorting me all the way home after we managed to lose his rabid fans, and by the time we made it inside my dad's place to the little lounge room, I'd found my second wind. I poured us fresh drinks, and Rupert didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, so we sat and ruminated about the universe until after four am. When I got up to refill my water glass, Rupert fell asleep on Dad's rocker/recliner, and he looked too comfy to disturb. I drifted off on the couch, unwilling to let him wake up alone for some reason.

But now, I was the one waking up without him, and my Dad stared at me with that particular twinkle in his eyes that indicated he knew more than I thought. "Stop it, Dad. Rupert is my friend. I met him in the city, and we crashed out here after talking all night."

"Talking? Is that what you young people are calling it now?"

"Dad, gross."

He winked and me, and patted my head. "Don't worry, my girl, we had a good chat, compared beards, you know how it is. I like him."

Stupidly, something inside me bloomed to hear my dad approve of my new buddy. "Good. I like him too."

"Tell him to stop massacring bread and come downstairs for a pie before he goes."

"A pie? Albert's highest honour? You must really like him."

"Enough cheek, thank you. I have to go open." He lumbered off and I grinned after him.

Stretching, I felt my bones creak in protest at their short, uncomfortable rest. Rising gingerly, I followed the scent of over-done toast into the little kitchen overlooking the back garden. Rupert was humming happily, his head into the fridge.

"Hey," I said shyly.

"Mia love!" He bolted over and caught me up in a cuddle. "How goes you this morrow? Did you know you drool in your sleep?"

"I do not! Do I?"

He crowed and began to pour orange juice into two glasses. "I made us breakfast."

"I can see. You didn't have to do that." Embarrassed by my ratty hair and rumpled clothes and the dinky kitchen, which wasn't even mine, I gestured helplessly. "I'm sure you're used to waking up to far more glamourous circumstances than this. You could have just slipped out."

"That wouldn't be very gentlemanly, now, would it?"

"You're not a gentleman."

"Besides, I wasn't going to go without saying goodbye. Now, eat your toast," he said, sliding a plate my way.

Lifting a piece of crispy rye, I toasted him with it. "Thanks."

While we ate, I let him lead the conversation, studying him and wondering how someone who'd had the same amount of sleep I had could still look so hot. His hair fell in blond waves, artfully dancing around his shoulders which were still clad in my hoody. Bright eyes kept meeting mine, alive and ready for another day.