I wake to the smell of pancakes and bacon. The light streaming through the blinds is warm and it takes me a few moments to realize where I am. Lando's guest bed is probably a hundred times comfier than my bed back home in Canada, and if it weren't for the smell of food I might've stayed here all day. I roll over to check the time and see it's almost eleven in the morning. On my lock screen, there is a notification from Ange. She's less than a month away from her surgery, and the last time we spoke she was pissed off that Caleb and her doctor were insisting on doing nothing at all for the remaining weeks. I opened our chat and found three new messages.
Little Finley is a demon child.
I'm serious B, It's like she has some kind of vendetta against my bladder.
I can't wait for you to be here. Also, what the hell happened at Spa? News says Oscar is okay, but are you? The news didn't lie, right?
The messages from my best friend never cease to bring a smile to my face lately, she's a comfort from home, something that feels real, despite the distance between us emotionally and physically. I mean, she still doesn't know I kissed Oscar and that's what caused the distance between us. She just thinks he's an asshole, and I never bothered to correct her. I quickly text back.
I'm never having kids.
Oscar is fine, sore and bruised but okay. I am too but I'm still recovering from sleeping in the hospital chair I think. I have a week off work so we are just chilling at Lando's place in Monaco.
You slept at the hospital? Ange replies, I'm surprised she's awake but I guess that can be blamed on Finley.
I thought he was dead Ange, I wasn't about to leave him.
Too bad he's an asshole, you're totally in love with him.
I am not. I know I am.
The Blake Jackson I know would never sleep in a hospital chair.
I think you're forgetting all the terrible hostel beds we've slept in.
That's beside the point. You thought doomsday and slept in a chair. You're seriously telling me you're not in love with him?
Yes.
Liar.
Shut up.
Things are complicated between us. We aren't actually dating.
And people who are in fake relationships fall in actual love all the time!
How many chick flicks have you been watching while on bed rest?
Too many, I think it's starting to corrupt Caleb, he actually cried watching The Last Ride last night. Do you know how hard it is to make that man cry?
I do not, but I plan to find out if he ever hurts you.
Oh, stop with the protective bullshit. If he ever hurts me I expect you and I to pull a "Two Black Cadillacs" by Carrie Underwood with me.
I outwardly chuckle, still wrapped up in the fluffy blankets. I can't wait to see you, and meet Finley. I text. Feeling homesick from my best friend.
I can't wait to pee like a normal person again.
Will you ever again though?
Shut up.
I smile again, I'm tempted to keep talking to her, but the smell of bacon is too enticing so I message Ange goodnight and she wishes me a good day. We promise to Facetime soon and I put my phone back down on the nightstand. I shrug off the blankets and stand up from the heaven that is the bed. I blame the jet lag for sleeping in so late.
Although the sunlight is warm, the AC is obviously on and goosebumps spread over my legs so I quickly grab Oscar's Mclaren hoodie again and throw it on. At this point, I've pretty much claimed this hoodie as mine, and I can't find it in myself to feel bad about it when he's got hundreds more. Plus, it's warm, comfortable, and still faintly smells of him.
I'm still rubbing my eyes from sleep when I enter the kitchen. Oscar is fussing over a pan on the stove. His hair is messy, but he's dressed like he's already been out this morning. I assume he has because I know for a fact Lando's fridge is empty. I mean, he didn't even have ranch dressing in there to dip my pizza in last night. My chest swells when I realize Oscar must have gone out shopping earlier in order to make breakfast for the both of us.
"Morning," I say, the sleep in my voice thick. Oscar turns around from the stove and his smile makes my knees weak.
"Morning," he says cheerfully. Oscar turns back around swipes a mug from the cupboard and fills it with coffee. At least Lando has a coffee maker, I didn't think he drank a lot of coffee. There goes my Christmas gift idea.
"Thank you," I say when he hands me the full mug. I don't bother asking for milk, I know Lando has no groceries, but I'm surprised again when Oscar shoves a carton of milk in my direction before turning back to the stove and flipping a couple of pancakes. "You bought milk for my coffee?" I question.
Oscar smiles again. "Well, I needed it for the pancakes too. Plus, I've seen you without caffeine, it's not something I ever want to see again."
I walk around the island to stand beside him and lightly whack him in his uninjured arm. "I am an angel with or without caffeine thank you very much."
Oscar looks at me sideways. "Really?" I nod and Oscar turns to fully face me. "So almost ripping my head off my shoulders when I stole the cinnamon bun you wanted at Silverstone had nothing to do with the lack of coffee in the hospitality suite?"
"It was the best-looking cinnamon bun I've ever seen!" I argue. I find myself breaking eye contact with Oscar when my face flushes.
"Yeah, and didn't you get half of it anyway?"
"Shut up," I say. I feel my cheeks flush.
Oscar smirks and returns to his pancakes, which I now realize are perfect. There isn't a single one that's burnt, and they are fluffy. More like actual mini cakes than breakfast food.
"Where did you learn to cook like that?" I ask, returning to the singular barstool beside the kitchen island.
"My mom," Oscar replies. His eyes are glowing with happiness and uncertainty. "It's my grandmother's recipe. They aren't nearly as fluffy as hers, but they are better than box pancakes."
"They look amazing," I say because they do. Oscar nods and plates a few, sliding them across the island for me and I laugh and the tall stack. "How on earth do you think I'm going to get through all these?"
"I may have doubled the batch, I thought double meant two people," Oscar says and I laugh. "I missed the first line on the instructions, Apparently a single batch makes twelve?"
"Oh my god, we'll be eating pancakes for the next week."
We're both laughing now, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. After seeing Oscar so cold, and far away for months, it's nice to think he is back to the somewhat normal Oscar I knew. But I can't help the little snag of distrust. Maybe not to this level of making me breakfast, but for months, he's gone back and forth with his emotions.
Normal Oscar, to cold, and then back to caring again, but walking away when I may need him, or he needs me. But I can't discard his efforts right now. And I want to scold myself for letting him swing so quickly back into being the normal Oscar I started crushing on like a schoolgirl, and scold myself further for allowing it to get to me again.
I take another sip of my coffee. "So, what are your plans today?" I keep my voice casual, in case he wanted to go back on his words yesterday of 'trying to prove himself'.
"I've got a few plans for today," Oscar says. His back is turned to me so I can't see the expression on his face.
"Oh, okay," I clear my throat. "Do you maybe want to meet up later? Caris was saying we need to post a lot together over the break, or at least that we should." Screw me and think he meant his words from last night. Or, maybe this is his effort, breakfast is enough right?
"Blake," Oscar turns back to me with a wide smile on his face. "None of my plans today don't include you."
I can't help the little smile that creeps up my cheeks. "Oh," maybe he did mean it then.
Oscar attempts to lean on the counter and it seems we are both reminded of his bruised body when he leans halfway and then aborts the movement. He stands up straight again and drags his uninjured hand through his hair. "Why do you think I made such a big breakfast?"
My smile doesn't falter. "Okay, then what are our plans for today?"
Oscar smirks, "No, sorry, I'm not telling you about any of our plans, you'll just have to go with it."
"What?"
Oscar smiles and puts a few more pieces of bacon onto my plate. "For the next three days you have plans, so don't go making any, love."
"And I don't get to know any of the plans I take it?"
Oscar smiles and pops a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Nope."
"Bastard,"
He laughs. If I hadn't been already seated I'm sure I would've fallen over.
"Eat, we are leaving as soon as you are done getting ready." Oscar turns off the stove and places the last few pancakes onto a plate and in Tupperware containers. I scarf down what's left on my plate and walk, or more so, run to the bathroom to shower and change. I faintly hear Oscar's laugh again from the kitchen. I'm showered and back out in the kitchen ready for whatever the day brings, before Oscar is even done with the dishes.