WARNING —— this goes from cute to... HOLDUP! I'm not much of a smutty writer, so don't expect over the top details - you have been warned. Haha xxx —————————
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"Did you mean what you said earlier, or was I having a nightmare?" Nathan asks from his room, then finally entering our open living-kitchen area.
"About what? Seeing your parents? Yeah, I did," I firmly reply and he groans, a common sound response from him lately.
My eyes scan across the room, spotting him to be busy adjusting his barely there shorts, dragging his feet along the floor before collapsing on to the couch, after only having left his bed moments ago.
Resuming my attention back on to scrambling eggs, bacon for him, I hated it and pancakes. I knew if I'm well fed I can take on the day, so I hoped I rubbed off on Nathan enough this could work for him. Here goes nothing. Carefully lining up a few small plates island bench, I hum for attention.
He perks up from being slumped on the couch and sluggishly wanders over.
"Please don't run," I sarcastically tell him, he couldn't move any slower if he tried.
"It hurts to walk," his hand brushes his legs and up along torso. He's trying to hint the areas of where I've 'hurt him', when I'd jumped on him earlier. "I'm sore all over."
"I'm sure you've had worse happen, now eat." I command him.
It seems he enjoys being ordered around, I don't miss the smirk he gives and his hurried pace to take a seat. He's already head dead in the food. I remain on the opposite side, leaning against my forearms to the bench top. I'm feeling lucky, maybe my plan of feeding him well could work. Then again, I didn't need to see or make friends with his parents, me and Tim were fine. However, if I wanted to be seriously with Nathan, I knew not only did he have to try with them, so did I.
On to his last few bites, I take my cue to start to tidy up. There's no chance he can use mess as an excuse to take longer and end up not going.
"You happy to leave in the next hour?" I ask over my shoulder from the sink.
"Sorry what?" He pretends he can't hear over the running water. He's stepping away from the bench.
I flick the tap down and the water stops. I'm analysing the possibilities of his next movement, which could be locking himself in the bathroom or bedroom. Either way, I'll find a way in if he does.
"Let's leave in the next hour? Now, don't lie to me about not knowing where to go. I'll text Tim for the address, so you cannot go off course." I threaten him.
Stopping at a safer distance, which is away from me, and midway through the hall. He studies me for a moment.
