I wake up when I heard my alarm. I reach out for the bedside table, expecting to reach my phone but there's no table beside me and my hand just hanging in the air. I raise my head from the pillow and look around with half-opened eyes. I just remembered that I'm at a guest house. I see the bedside table at the other side of the bed and roll myself to the end of this queen size bed to reach for my phone and stop the alarm. I take it and see the clock is now 8 a.m.
Wait, since when am I sleeping? And on the bed in my bedroom to be exact. The last thing I remember, I was hugging Ryan on his lap.
Did I really sleep on his lap?! That's quite... embarrassing. What if I'm heavy and he needs to carry me all the way to my room. Ughhh!! Why did you sleep, Abby?!
I cover my face with my hands and shakes my head, remembering the memory from last night.
I look at my outfit and I'm still wearing last night's except there's no cardigan so I'm in a sleeveless top with a pair of leggings.
I stretch my body and yawn before standing up and wash my face. At least, I need to look fresher if I'm going to face him. I change my clothes to a baggy shirt and shorts that I'm supposed to wear before I sleep, but instead, I wear it after.
I tie my hair into a low ponytail and finally get out of the room to find Ryan. I want to avoid meeting him too early in the morning but why do I have a feeling that he's already awake? My question is answered when the smell of pancakes hit my nose when I'm on my way downstairs. I stop at the last step and take a deep a breath. Why am I nervous? He's your boyfriend, Abby. Nothing to be embarrassed anymore. You should know this would come when you decided to cry in front of him last night.
I show myself up into the kitchen, playing with the hem of my shirt before he turns around and sees me. He flashes me his beautiful smile with a "Oh, good morning. You woke up."
I walk to him and sit on one of the stools in front of the kitchen counter, looking at his muscular back. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt, which shows a lot of his muscle obviously and a pair of sweatpants.
"Morning. I didn't turn off the alarm so I wake up." I say despite he's still focusing on his pancake in the pan.
"You hungry?" He asks while glancing back at me over his shoulder.
I nod but still say, "Yes, a little."
He finished up the last piece of the pancake and brings it over to the kitchen counter with a glass of maple syrup. It smells good. He handed me a small plate of butter when I'm taking a piece of pancake into my plate.
"Thanks." I smile.
He pulls the nearest stool closer to me and sit on it. He leans his head on his right hand while looking at me while I'm taking a bite.
"How is it?"
"You know you're a good cook. You don't need to ask." I roll my eyes and then take another bite.
He just chuckles while still looking at me. I don't really like the attention when I'm eating so I stop my next bite and look at him.
"You're not going to eat?"
"I ate. Before you wake up."
"You ate? Without me?" I acted like I'm shocked.
"I was too hungry. So, I made myself breakfast first."
I glare a little at him before eating another bite of the pancake in my plate.
"And now you don't know what to do because I can see the attention I get when I eat."
YOU ARE READING
I'm Waiting For You
Teen Fiction"You've been waiting for twelve years. You should be mad. Ask me, why I left without a word? Why I didn't say goodbye? Why I didn't contact you at all? Am I not worried about you? You shouldn't say you're worried of me. I'm wrong. And I don't deserv...
