LOCKDOWN

Chapter 11

AUTHORS NOTE 19/03/2021

I've been debating whether or not I should add this authors note, but I've decided that I am going to. Please don't comment on how much Zara cries. Those comments upset me for personal reasons that I'd rather not get into, but I get it — she cries a lot. Just because you aren't a big crier, doesn't mean you have to post negative comments about it.Please just stop.

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I woke up not knowing what the day would bring. The past three days I had expected Peyton to treat me rudely, but she promised that today would be different. Would she keep that promise? Or would she act as if yesterday had never happened? I didn't know her well enough to assume if it would be the latter or not — I didn't know her morals, her values, her heart. But I did know that for the past four years she has disliked me for a reason she refuses to disclose, so I feel within my right to be wary of her.

The tenderness of my bruise was easing and it was slowly fading back to normal. I still didn't bother covering it — why should I? While my appearance had always been important to me, I didn't feel the need to go to lengths with my appearance to impress Peyton. And besides, it was because of her that the bruise was there in the first place — there was no point hiding it.

I made my way to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, half expecting to groggily trip over Peyton's discarded towels on the floor, but I didn't. They were neatly hanging on the towel rack, and the shower products were stacked neatly on the shower shelf. A swooping sensation filled me as I smiled to myself; she had kept her promise. I didn't want to get my hopes up though...it was only the beginning of the day — things could change.

"McMann?" Peyton's voice carried through the stairwell.

This was the first time she had left her room before me during this lockdown, and I wondered what she had been doing while I had been asleep. After washing my face quickly I made my way downstairs, still dressed in my fluffy pyjamas and bed socks. She was in the kitchen, searching the drawers and cupboards. She wore a sports bra and a pair of gym shorts that I assumed she had from her soccer bag. Her abs were once again on show and I couldn't help but stare longingly at them.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, pulling me from my daze. "Where do you keep your saucepans?"

Why on earth did she want to know where the saucepans were? She hadn't lifted a finger in the kitchen so far unless it meant bringing food to her mouth. I know she had said she'd try harder, but I didn't think she'd actually cook something. She seemed to recognise the look of confusion on my face, because she continued speaking.

"I, uh..." she said nervously, "I was thinking that maybe we could make breakfast together?"

I genuinely couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only was she sticking to her word and trying harder, but she actually was voluntarily suggesting to spend time with me.

"Y — yeah," I stammered, nodding pathetically. "I'd like that."

'I'd like that,'...Really Zara?

"They're in the cupboard under the stove," I instructed, walking over and pulling one out, placing it on the stove top.

"Oh," she said awkwardly, rubbing her neck. "I thought I looked there."

Awkward silence greeted us and I used the time to quickly glance at her body once again. It truly was perfect.

"Could we do eggs and bacon again? I liked when you made that the other day," she said quietly.