To Want Endlessly [18+]

Chapter Six

"I made breakfast. Perfect timing too. I didn't expect you to be up so early since you were kind of gone last night."

Pursing my lips, I find the words to say. "You were the one who took care of me? Thanks for that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

"That's an understatement." She laughs and the sound falls from her lips perfectly. Straight white teeth are revealed and I wonder just how much care she takes for them to look so good. "But it's not hard to be a good samaritan. I saw someone who needed help and decided to assist. I just didn't expect that person to be Chance Whitley."

Tensing, I cock my head to the side and frown. Unless I mumbled it while drunk, I'm not sure how she knows my name. And by how she just spoke it, it sounds like she knows me on a personal level.

An awkward laugh bubbles out of me and I lift a hand to rub the back of my neck. My savior ignores my fidgeting as she pulls a plate from her cabinet and sets it on the counter. I watch her back, taking notice of her tattooed skin for the first time. A flower - the name of, I don't know - is printed on her right shoulder blade, contrasting with her brown skin, yet also blending perfectly. On the other side is a bird flying out of a cage. What they symbolize, I don't know, but they make me want to know her more.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours," I finally say, deciding this is better than being in the dark.

The woman turns slightly and arches an eyebrow at me. "I'm hurt that you could forget me so easily. But I guess that's what happens when you grow up and move on with your life. Unimportant people are usually forgotten."

Ouch. Those words sting as if I'm being scolded. For what? Forgetting? I can't really be blamed for that unless she had been someone important to me. Though I reckon I wouldn't have forgotten if she was.

"I'll give you a hint." She smiles at me. "By the way, I'm not making you a plate, so please help yourself."

She picks up her own dish and moves over to the living room. This gives me a chance to look around her place. I hadn't realized it was a minimalist apartment before. The living room feeds into the kitchen just like in a studio. A small sectional couch takes up most of the space. Midnight blue and white pillows decorate the light gray piece of furniture. Above the couch is a painting of a female's side profile; a design where her body blends into the background. Before it sits a tiny round table with a single potted plant on top of it. Three windows line the wall which is where all the sunlight comes from.

If it wasn't for the tv mounted on the wall opposite the couch, this would be a true minimalist apartment.

"Are you not hungry?" Though this is the nth time she's spoken, I still have yet to find out her name.

That's right. She's meant to give me a hint.

With a rumble of my stomach, I begin to pile food on my plate. Eggs, bacon, fruit, and toast. That's what she's prepared and laid out. The assorted colors of orange, green, and pink from the fruit salad makes my mouth water. I can already taste the freshness.

"Forks?" I ask, glancing over.

"Drawer farthest from the fridge."

Nodding, I pull the white wood open and grab a utensil. Plate in hand, I walk over and take a seat next to her.

"So... hint?" I prod, wanting to know just who she is to me. The wait is becoming too much for me now.

"Think... intro to psychology. Naturally a college class, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for fifty minutes." She sets her plate down which still has a corner of eggs left. "We had whole semester partners."

Having been out of college for at least seven years now, I try to wrack my brain for what she's talking about. I only took one psychology class before deciding to switch my major to art history. What I had realized was that psychology is mostly a major that people pick on a whim. It sounds fancy and sophisticated at first, maybe even interesting. But without an actual interest in it, most are just wasting their time. At least that's how I felt about myself.

Shaking my head, I push the unimportant thoughts and get back to remembering. An older woman comes to mind in the form of my old psychology teacher. I can't remember her name and I can barely remember her face. Our normal meeting room pops up next, then the library which we occasionally met in. Finally, I get the image of a woman with big round glasses and an afro.

"Freya?" I mumble as the name randomly comes to me. How I knew, I'm not sure.

"That was pretty fast," Freya says, laughing lightly. "I expected a lot more guessing or remembering. You're pretty good. Great to see you again, by the way. It's been, what, seven years? Eight?"

I don't even have the words to answer her. All I can do is gawk at how much she's changed in nearly a decade.

*Made it before a month! So sorry, so sorry. I said I'd do better and I haven't, my bad guys. But anyways, here's chapter six and finally our love interest is properly introduced! I'm so excited and the face claim I'm using for her is so gorgeous, like wow. Lmao. But y'all can picture her however you want, okay? I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. From here on, it gets crazy. Please don't forget to vote and comment!*