The Fighter (Book 1)

Chapter 15

I woke up the next morning surrounded by warm sheets and something cool placed on my back. It was a piece of paper, from what I could tell with my eyes still shut, and I stretched out my arms only to feel Zack’s absence.

My eyes opened upon the lack of feeling his skin and I read the note. There was only one word scrawled in neat handwriting: Kitchen. I rolled out of Zack’s warm bed, holding my head to try and keep myself balanced. My fingers found one of Zack’s black shirts and I pulled it on without hesitation, needing something to shield myself from the cold.

I shuffled up the stairs with a yawn, zoning out until I was in the kitchen. Zack stood over a stove, cussing up a storm while stirring things into a skillet. My feet were silent as I padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my cheek between his wings. Zack relaxed under me, tensing up once in a while until he turned the burner off.

He turned around, whacking me in the face with his wing and quickly apologizing. “Good morning, lovely.”

“That’s a new name,” I slurred, still half-asleep. “What are you making?”

“Trying to make eggs,” he laughed, running his fingers through my tangled curls. “Sorry about your hair again.”

“I’ve had worse,” I squeezed my arms tightly around him, pushing myself farther into the warmth of his chest.

“We should probably leave after breakfast. I’m gonna warn you now, Taylor plans on bombarding you with questions and shit,” he sighed. “He’s an ass…Eros is probably gonna give you shit too.”

“Eros is just jealous,” I laughed quietly. “I’ll be fine. I’m the Savior.”

“How are you?” he asked gently, prying me off of him to get us plates. “Do you want toast or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” I chuckled, sitting at the bar. “And I’ve never been better.”

“That’s good,” his eyes held mine for a moment before he cracked a small smile and turned back to making toast. “Did you pick that shirt out with intention…or…?”

I looked down at the shirt, wondering what I’d put on. It was a worn-in concert T-shirt from an old Nine Inch Nails concert. One of my favorite albums, too. “No, but I do love them.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter and pushing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. The toast popped and he set that down on my plate and dug out butter and jelly, each with their own shiny, silver knife. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?”

“Well yeah,” I took a bite, eyes falling shut. “I’m making you my personal chef from now on. This is amazing.”

“Thanks, I’ve had a few years of practice,” he smiled, taking a bite. “What’s your favorite song on the album?” I bit my lip, blushing. “So it’s ‘Closer.’”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You blushed. Of course it is,” he winked at me. “Remind me to make you sing that for me some time.”

I laughed, disregarding his comment and devouring the eggs and toast.

“Do you maybe want to come back here tonight?” he asked tentatively, looking down at his plate. I propped my elbows up on the counter, setting my cheek in my hand and watching Zack until he looked at me. “We don’t have to.”

“I thought after last night it was implied that we were coming back,” I mumbled. Zack blushed and nodded quickly. “I love you,” I smiled.

“I love you, too,” he smiled back, putting my empty plate in the sink and pulling me out of my seat with only the look in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave.”