Reality Babes

8- Talking to Myself

Chapter Eight

If you ever see me talking to myself
I'm just running through the words I have to say to you
Is it over, or is it too soon to tell?
I'm just trying not push myself away from you

-Talking to Myself by Chiddy Bang

I woke up the next morning expecting to get up peacefully, but instead I started falling off the bed and I frantically grabbed for anything that could get me to not fall on my ass. I didn't know what I ended up grabbing, but I pulled it down with me as I fell, successfully waking me up.

"What the hell!"

I jumped and looked next to me, finding Sage sleepily rubbing his eyes, disorientated and confused. He was the thing I pulled down with me. What was weird, is that the first thought that came to me wasn't why he was in my room, but why he was wearing the same clothes from yesterday; a muscle tee and jeans. But I did wonder why he was in my room.

Then I sat up and realized that I wasn't in my room, but the living room.

"What the..." I trailed off. I tried to think back to last night but I didn't really remember anything other than Sage and I sitting here awkwardly like normal but then after that I'm blank. We most likely fell asleep here.

I turned back to Sage to find him looking around him confusion, then it seemed like he began to piece together the pieces. He then looked down at his shirt and made a pout face. "I think there's drool on me..." He mumbled.

I quickly turned away from him. How embarrassing was that. "This is weird," I said, still looking away from him.

"Yeah..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

Before he could say anything else, someone else interrupted. "Aw, you two are so sweet."

I turned to find Bryson standing at the entrance of the living room, mock cooing at us. He then rolled his eyes. "You two were wrapped up pretty tight there," he said as he walked past us and into the kitchen.

I glanced at Sage to see him standing up. "Fuck you, Bryson," he said.

I tried not to show any emotion on my face, but on the inside I had a billion questions. Although we were technically married now, Emma and I had never switched rooms, so I'd never slept in the same place as him before. I don't know why we never switched; it most likely had something to do with both of our pride. So what was Sage thinking about this? Would this make him turn into Bad Guy Sage? And a bunch more. If I didn't know better, I would think Sage was bipolar with how frequently his mood changed.

Bryson only laughed as he opened cabinet after cabinet, obviously looking for something. "I don't judge," he said absentmindedly.

I glanced at Sage as he stretched, revealing a little strip of skin where his waist met his stomach. I quickly looked away, scolding myself. Who cares about that little skin? Not me, for sure.

"Where is a freakin' pan?" Bryson muttered under his breath, then his head emerged from a cabinet with a skillet in his hand.

I watched in silence as he started moving around the kitchen, grabbing food and other supplies that I didn't even know we had in this place.

"Are you making food?" Sage asked, his head tilted to the side.

"Yeah..." I added.

Bryson froze, turned to us and raised his eyebrow. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

I shook my head, even though I was a little bit in shock. It was so weird to see someone as priveledged as Bryson, as boneheaded as Bryson, doing something for themself. I glanced at Sage to find him giving me the same look I was probably giving him; the 'This is Different" look.