HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

THIRTY-NINE.

...can't stand it but I still love you...

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Grayson

Ha! I woke up before 8 on a Saturday. World record.

Stretching my sore arms and wiggling my toes, I sat up and let out another yawn. I withdrew my phone from beneath my pillow and checked my notifications which was full of well-wishing texts on the game.

Blah, blah, blah, I scrolled to kingdom come, nothing reasonable.

I leapt out of the bed clothed in boxers alone and pranced towards the door. I've almost stepped out when waves of an animalistic sound hit me. I spun on my heels just to realize who the animal was and I shook my head with a smile on my face.

I almost forgot I was sharing this room. My own room had been ready since a long time but still it hadn't gotten awkward between us and we never talked about it.

Alejandro was sleeping face-down on the pillow while sorta kneeling on the bed, his butt sticking out in an awkward way. His hair-that reminded me of cantaloupe flesh-was all over his face and a little drool seeped through the corner of his vermilion lips. His snores were loud enough to quake the whole house and his chest rose and fell in perfect sync.

For him to sleep in this manner, he must've had a very rough yesterday. That explains his wildness when I wanted to act like a gentleman and carry him upstairs to his room. He had always been a bipolar bitch so I was neither surprised nor angry. Still, I've learnt my lesson never to bother a purple-belt.

A lightbulb went on in my head and I sped straight to the kitchen. With Camilla Cabello's Havana on my tongue, I danced throughout the thirty minutes of making the banana tea and frying the eggs and preparing the bacon and toasting the bread.

I balanced the tray on the tip of my three fingers expertly; skills acquired from working as a waiter. Mimicking the Black Butler, I stood straight before his bed and put on a serious comical face before it fell in realization.

I'm really bothering a wild purple-belt. Swallowing hard, I mustered up all my courage in tapping him awake. He didn't move at first and was frozen like a corpse till I had no choice but to slap him, across the cheek, gently.

He groaned lazily and stretched his eyelids open. At first he was shocked on seeing my hands filled with steaming, refreshing breakfast goals-if I do say so myself-then suddenly his face contorted into a scowl and brushed me out of the way.

It was a divine miracle that the meal didn't keel over out of my hands because things would have been real ugly. Firstly, all my efforts would've gone to waste. Secondly, his bedsheets would have been ruined-the last thing I ever want right now.

What is wrong with him? What did I do?

Sighing loudly, I massaged my temples with the heel of my palm and stood on that spot for a while.

Spongebob's dolphin-like cackle echoed from the gigantic plasma TV. Alejandro was sitting on the couch with a dense black look ingrained onto his visage and as expected, didn't even acknowledge me as I passed the sitting room to the kitchen.

Pouting, I dropped the tray on the counter loud enough to sound out of the enormous kitchen and into the sitting room, hoping Alejandro would at least notice me. I peeked out of the door but he didn't even budge.

I deliberately walked past the couch where he sat while slapping my flip-flops on the floor noisily and pretended to check out the model scimitar hung over the far wall. Then I did another round again, and again, and again, and again.