Locked Out of Spring Break (REWRITING)

Chapter 22: Breakfast With Apologies

I wake up to become aware that my arms are empty and that my prince is gone. I sit up, wiping sleep from my eyes.

"Rico," I call out, arising from the bed. I open the door and smell a lovely aroma in the air. Is he cooking?

I go downstairs and see him hustling around in the kitchen and then standing in front of the stove, cooking with his back to me. Rico being Rico, he has some classical music blasting while he's stirring whatever is on the stovetop.

I sneak up behind Rico and wrap my arms around him. He jerks in fear and almost falls toward the stove, but I make sure he doesn't fall. "Good morning, baby." I kiss his cheek.

"Morning," he greets, placing his hands over mine, which are around his waist now.

I look over his shoulder. "So, what's this?"

"Omelet," he answers, folding it over.

"I hate eggs."

He spun around. "What alternatives would you like? I can make you a muffin or something—"

"Just kidding," I respond, "I love eggs."

"Good," he turns back around.

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I'm okay," he responds, removing the omelet from the skillet and placing it on a plate nearby. He dumps the remainder of raw eggs into the skillet, rushes to another counter and opens up a waffle baker and removes a cooked waffle. He sprays some butter on it and pours some batter inside, closing it.

"Okay?" I exclaim, "You know your way around, it seems."

"Do you want bacon or sausage?"

"Bacon." I watch him continue cooking in amusement. "I can't believe my babe can cook," I loom over him, placing my hands around his hips. "You'd be so cute with an apron and no undergarments hiding your ass from sight." I kiss his cheek.

He removes my hands and recoils. "Jake, I can't concentrate with you watching over me. I don't want the food to burn," he irritably sighs, "Go sit somewhere or something," he shoos me.

"Alright, baby," I kiss his cheek, seductively, "I like you ordering me around. You should do it more often."

"Will do."

I sit at the table and watch him in entertainment until he is finished.

He starts placing the food on the table. When I tried helping, he pushed me away. "You're my guest. Sit down and let me serve you."

I put my hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay." I obey and watch until he has all of the food placed.

My mouth waters at the sight. There's waffles, bacon, omelets, toast, and fruit laid out. "You went all out."

"Of course I did," he responds, setting the table with plates and silverware. "We haven't had a real meal for days."

"Oh, yeah," I say, almost forgetting we were just locked in a room, only surviving off of snack foods for the days spent inside.

I arise and grab my plate. Rico eyes me in annoyance. "What did I tell you?" he takes my plate away. "I'm serving you, because you're my guest."

I take it back, "You already did. Now, let me make my own plate. I'm a big boy."

"You are a big boy," he sexually implies, "In places more than one."

I smirk, as I begin fixing my plate with outrageous portions.

He eyes my plate with huge eyes. "Damn! I forgot how much you athletes eat."

"I am starving." He fixed his plate with better portions, compared to mine. It was at that moment I realized he had bacon on his plate. "So... this vegetarian thing is a no-go?"