This is not cool.
NOT COOL YOU HEAR ME!
I don't know if I should shove him off or just ignore it, 'cause he looks so cute when he's asleepand I don't know if I could disrupt him.
Hold the phone,I'm pissed at this guy, why the hell do I care if he looks gorgeous or not! And why the hell is he in MY bed anyway!
I'm still thinking about what to do when I feel something going up my leg. It takes me a minute to realize IT'S HIS HAND! What the hell! I don't give it a second thought and kick him off the bed.
"Hey what'd ya do that for," he says indignantly
"Get. Out. Right. Now." I shoot the words like knives at him, while trying to keep my voice down so I don't wake mom and Steve.
"What? Can't take a joke? Besides I wouldn't do anything to you, your so not my type," he says with a look of disgust on his face. Which really pisses me off. Not that I care what he thinks. Right?
"Sorry I'm nota bimbo then," I say with as much venom as possible.
He smirks that devilish little smirk once again. I've grown quit accustomed to it already. "You got that right, you could be a nun, sister."
Now it's my tern to smirk. I doubt he even picked up on his own word play. Funny. "Yeah, yeah what ever, just get out and leave me alone," I groan as I pull a pillow over my head so I don't have to see his face.
"Aww but I wanna play, sis," he whines
"Don't call me sis, and Go. Away." I throw my pillow at him in a futile attempt to make him scurry off. He doesn't.
Ugh this guy!! he's going to give me a stress-induced ulcer. Then just as I let out a defeated sigh and decide I don't care anymore, he gets up and leaves.
I don't know when I fell back asleep but I didn't wake until one in the afternoon the next day.
I walk downstairs groggily to search for something to eat, when everything that had transpired yesterday finally hits me.
I groan and start to head back upstairs.
I don't feel like eating anything anymore and I just want to crawl back in bed.
Too late Zayden's spotted me from down the hall and if I retreat now I'll look like a coward.
I sigh and proceed into the kitchen.
Turns out mom already has breakfast ready so I don't have to scrounge around.
Then the second unwelcome thing hits me this morning.
Uh oh! Mom made breakfast!
Now mom is a really good cook don't get me wrong, it's just she never makes me breakfast unless she's going to tell me something I don't want to hear. And I know the breakfast is for me because It's my favorite, chocolate chip waffles with whip cream, a ham and cheese omelet, a green apple sliced in cubes and caramel sauce.
I sit down at the kitchen island and am about to start on my omelet when before I can even blink it's snatched off my plate. What the hell! I spin around on the stool and find Zayden behind me taking a huge bite out of MY omelet!
"Oh Willow, your up," my mom says in her happiest sing-song voice.
"Thats my plate," Zayden says to me.
I stare at him suspiciously for a second. Until my mom interjects and says, "Oh Willow it's so funny, Zayden likes the exact same breakfast as you." she says happily. I guess it's not my omelet after all.