Only you | Derek Morgan

Spencer level simp

D E R E K ' S   P O V

I never thought I'd be standing in line at a Starbucks to order a drink that is already pure sugar, customised with a list as long as my arm of additional syrups and sauces, but here I am, ordering Layla's favorite coffee.

"—with light ice, please."

With the overpriced coffee in hand, I leave the store and climb into my truck before heading back over to Layla's apartment.

I only left a couple of hours ago to go work out and grab some clean clothes from my house, but I can't wait to get back over there.

I asked Layla if she wanted to come work out with me but considering she was practically waddling around the apartment, the answer was a clear no.

We spent most of this morning cuddling in bed but when she got up and tried to walk, I couldn't help but laugh at her attempt and feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I kept my promise. Layla however, punched me for laughing at her.

Dropping my gym bag inside the door, I walk around the apartment in search of her. I find Layla in the kitchen, her back to me while she's standing over the oven. She's humming along to the music that's playing, cooking in nothing but my shirt. What a sight.

Considering take out is one of her food groups, I'm surprised at the scene in front of me. "You're cooking?"

Layla turns at the sound of my voice and the way her eyes light up when she sees me gratifies me in a way I can't describe. "Mhm," She grins, focusing back on the pot she's stirring. "Steak, mashed potatoes and asparagus."

My kind of meal. I walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind. "Smells amazing," I say, tucking my head into the crook of her neck, pressing my lips to her soft skin. No matter how delicious the food does smell, she smells better.

Layla points the spoon in her hand in my direction, wagging her finger around the oven. "This is some wife energy right here and I'm not even a girlfriend, so you're welcome."

I laugh, grinning down at her while my thumb traces circles in her hip. "I got you something."

"You did?" She says, suspicion growing in her eyes when she turns to me. "What?"

I reveal the coffee from behind my back and slide it into her hand. "This is your 'I'm sorry I messed up your alignment' coffee."

Layla laughs, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "Thank you," She says, taking a sip. She hums in approval. "It's perfect. How did you know my order?"

I shrug the question off, not telling her that I made note of it in my phone when I heard her order it last week.

Luckily she doesn't notice my non response because the oven preheating dings and she turns her attention to placing the tray of asparagus in. I step aside and lean back against the countertop when Layla goes to the sink to wash her hands.

She looks deep in thought and when her narrowed eyes settle on me while she drys her hands off with a paper towel, I'm afraid of what she's about to say. "You got sex and I'm making you a steak dinner? What the hell is wrong with me?"

I'm so lucky. "Would you rather me give you thanks in words or with my head buried between your thighs?"

"You can thank me later," She laughs, shaking her head. "We have thirty minutes until this food is done and if we get distracted, we'll end up burning my apartment down."