LOCKDOWN

Chapter 13

PEYTON'S POV

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I had hung up my towels, organised the shower products, made breakfast for myself and Zara, and exercised with Dennis, all in the hours before Zara had emerged from her room the next morning. I had googled a recipe to make for breakfast from the ingredients that we had, and had managed to cook up a somewhat decent omelette. By midday I was exhausted, and feeling somewhat shameful that this is what Zara had been doing for me every morning while I lazed in bed feeling sorry for myself.

After my brief conversation with Zara last night I had spent my time in my room, reminiscing on the past four years of our lives. I looked back on the times where I had resented her for specific things that had happened, and when I revisited those memories I realised that she really hadn't done anything wrong at all. You know when you dislike someone, and then suddenly everything that they do just pisses you off? That explained my relationship, or lack of, with Zara over the years. Like that time in Maths class in tenth grade, when Mr Jasper had asked her to write an equation on the board. She had written it so neatly, so perfectly, that it aggravated me more than it should have. And why? Because it was her. Looking back, she had never done anything wrong...ever. She minded her own business, and yet I hated her for it.

Around half past twelve, Zara made her way downstairs, ignoring me in the kitchen and heading straight towards the living room where she curled up on the couch with Dennis. She wore a loose cropped t-shirt and some pyjama shorts, her toned body on display. Her long and slender legs were accentuated by the small pyjama shorts and her shirt showed off her toned stomach. She didn't have a six pack, but you could see the definition of muscles on her tanned skin when she moved. In the past I would've hated her for this, creating a narrative in my mind that she was some sort of whore just looking to grab my attention with her body, but in reality I knew that wasn't the case. Although, her body did indeed grab my attention, and I couldn't help but admire from afar. I'd be lying if I said that she wasn't my type. I grabbed the plate with the omelette that I had cooked for her on it and took it to the living room, handing it to her nervously.

"Here," I held it out in front of her. "I...uh, I made this for you."

She eyed it suspiciously before taking it from me, placing it on her lap. I handed her a knife and fork as well as the pepper shaker.

"I've never made an omelette before, but I found a recipe online so..." I trailed off awkwardly.

"Thanks," she said, still not attempting to eat it.

"I made one for myself earlier. It is edible," I reassured her, smiling awkwardly.

She nodded, picking up her knife and fork and slowly cutting into it. I watched nervously as she took a piece up to her mouth, chewing it before swallowing. She took another bite, easing my anxiety that she didn't like the taste. She ate it quietly, not looking at me or saying a word. She occasionally had to push Dennis' large head away from the plate as he kept pushing his nose in front of her to sniff the food. She cleaned her plate, finishing the omelette to the very last crumb.

"Did...did you like it?" I asked.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you," she replied. Her tone was stiff, and I could tell that she was still upset with me. But she was talking, and that's all that I could ask for.

"Can I turn on the TV?" I asked, and she nodded in reply.

I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, Dennis taking up the space in between us. I turned on the TV and placed the remote back down, not needing to find a channel to watch the news since every channel was broadcasting updates twenty four hours a day.