Brian's kitchen was the most beautiful space I'd ever seen. Ignoring everything black, like he lived on the dark side, it was perfect and neat, and screamed let's cook and make a mess! Well, it screamed it because I was in it, and normally when I cooked, I did, somehow, make a mess.
Yet, this morning, I managed to stay neat. I said I wanted to leave Brian with happy memories and giving him a filthy kitchen after having his girlfriend over for the first time wouldn't be it.
Thinking just that—girlfriend—I giggled to myself.
"Morning." Brian's groggy voice pulled me from my thoughts as I stood in front of the stove, skillet handle in one hand and spatula in the other. I turned to look at him with a smile on my face as he walked into the kitchen, leaning against the island that separated him and I. Sleep still covered every bit of him, and though he smiled back, his head drooped down into his palm.
"Morning, sleepyhead," I said, winking at him.
With closed eyes, face still in his palm, he gave me a small smile, just enough to bring up that dimple.
"I thought I'd start some breakfast." I turned around towards the island, skillet still in hand. I knew he couldn't see the layout I'd spread out; plates with eggs and sausage, and buttered toast with jam. I'd just finished cooking the bacon since he had both in his refrigerator. I also knew he could eat a ton, so why not prepare it?
"Breakfast?" he opened one eye.
I nodded happily, dropping the bacon onto its plate. "I know it's a mess, but I promise to clean it up as soon as we're done. Then, we can do whatever you like, or—"
Brian didn't even let me finish my sentence as he grabbed a slice of bacon off the plate, finished it in two bites, and came around the island beside me. His hand swept around my waist as I turned towards the sink. When I turned on the faucet, his hand pulled my back against his, and his lips dipped down to my ear.
"I could get used to this," he whispered.
"To what?" I tilted my head to look back at him as the skillet blew steam from under the cold water.
With one hand, he turned it off, while his other turned me and made me face him. And with one step forward, he pinned me between him and the sink. "To this," he said, looking behind him, "and to you."
I watched his hand slowly move up to my face, gently cupping my face before he kissed me. "I like you in my shirts."
My cheeks burned red as his lips met mine again, lingering with the salty taste of bacon mixed with mouthwash. It was weird but alluring, and only because it came from him.
"I always wear your shirts," I whispered, looking up into his golden eyes.
"I know, but how often do you wear them here?" he smirked, his hands grabbing my hips. "With me? Making me breakfast?"
Hot breath came out of me as a sigh, one that made him inch back and bite his lip. He looked at me once over before grabbing my hand, leading me back towards the food. "I bet you made all of this with a smile, didn't you?"
I followed him as he pulled a chair from the neighboring table, placed it beside the island, and placed me on his lap as he sat down. "I did," I said happily, nodding right after, "smiled all morning."
"Oh." With a cocked brow, Brian grabbed another piece of bacon, took a bite, and fed me a small piece, "How about after breakfast, we clean up, mess up the bed, then head out to the beach for a walk before you go home?"
I blinked at the words he'd said in the middle. Mess up the bed? "Brian, did you—"
He nodded, fully understanding my silent, wordless question. Taking another bite of bacon, he laughed in between chews. "Oh, you heard me. I think morning sex followed by an afternoon stroll sounds like a perfect day, don't you think?"
Digging a fork into the plate of scrambled eggs, I turned it towards his lips and fed it to him. My smile matched his, just as wide, just as bright.
I couldn't help but think it was a perfect day.
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And it truly was.
Just as he said, we finished breakfast and cleaned the kitchen together, but with soap still on our hands, we didn't make it to his bed. At least, not the first time. We ruined it the second, and third. Luckily enough for me, he had his washer and dryer, so while I washed my clothes from the night before, we enjoyed a fourth time, slower than the others.
In such a little time, I became addicted to him. His taste and touch were the most delicious thing I'd ever had, and I couldn't get enough. So, to walk out of his apartment without another go, I admit, I was giving him my most exaggerated pouts. Yet, he didn't give in. He was determined to show me this beach.
Brian took my hand in the late afternoon and walked me down the street, across a bridge, where the sidewalk met the sand. It wasn't full of people, though I thought it would've been. The sun was bright and high in the sky, and the wind was a perfect, warm breeze. Still, the emptiness made it appealing, and the second I stepped onto the beach, I pulled off my shoes and stuck my toes in the sand. He stayed behind as I walked forward.
"You don't come to beaches often, do you?" he asked, hanging back a few feet as I approached the water.
I shook my head as the wind blew through my hair. "No. I think I've been here maybe—" I looked down at my fingers and counted. "—four times."
I didn't look back at his face but judging by his laugh, I could tell it shocked him. "Four? That's it? You didn't live too far. Aren't there any small beaches near your town?"
Shooting him a side glance, I smiled and shook my head again. A part of me loved my small-town life, but I missed out on a few things. That was because my parents kept us inside, away from the evils outside our walls. If only they knew that if they walked further than their doorstep, and ventured out into the world, they'd see the surrounding beauty. Beautiful land, beautiful people, like this city, this beach, and Brian.
"Well," Brian came close, kicking sand as he stood at my side, "I live right here, so, you're more than welcome to walk down here all you like."
"Yeah, but I don't, and I can't invade your space every day."
"Oh?" Brian's hand found mine and linked our fingers together. I looked up at him as he looked out into the waters, squinting his eyes to block out the sun. That didn't stop the shimmering within them, each golden fleck absorbing the light. "Who said you were invading?"
I opened my mouth slightly as he turned to look at me. "Kay, you can come here all you like, I won't stop you. I also won't rush you. Just know the option's there."
If hearts could explode with happiness without killing a person, that's what mine did. Blood rushed to my face and down to my legs, and I gripped his hand to keep steady. Had he really said what I thought he said? No, no, I couldn't just stay, right?
"Wanted to let you know, too, my birthday's coming up," he smiled as he looked back at the water in front of us. "I never do anything, but I thought this time I could."
Just like Brian to change the subject, though the topic change was much-needed information. I giggled quietly. "Okay, turning thirty-one, right?"
He nodded.
"Maybe we could plan a party?"
"Oh, no." Laughing, he shook his head. "No parties."
"Come on, a small one." I showed the size by pinching my fingers together. "Super small. Just a few people. You can pick, but Rianne and Shawn are a must. I could invite my brother and you two could really meet!"
It didn't take much to convince him. Even though he rubbed the side of his face, he smiled. "Meeting your brother sounds nice. Is he cool?"
I grabbed Brian's arm. "Uh, super cool."
Nodding, Brian laughed and said, "Okay, fine, but no Jade."
My jaw dropped.
"Okay, fine... Jade's fine. Just keep her far away from me."
As we looked out at the sun together, I couldn't help but laugh, squeeze his hand, and lean my head against his arm.
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If there was one thing I took pride in, aside from baking, it was party and event planning. I wasn't fully lying when I'd told Shawn that story about the church bake sale. I really did set up the table, sell out the goods, and make my mother proud. The lying part was the whole mess-up because I hadn't done it all on my own. Still, that didn't put a damper on my skill. I was pretty damn good.
So, I spent the days before his birthday planning everything. I found a venue which was really the coffee shop. It saved a ton of money I didn't have, nor that Brian needed to spend, and considering it was his shop, there wouldn't be a time cap, either. Now, it took some convincing to get Brian to agree to it, but I had some valid points:
It wouldn't be a big party, so we needed little room. The shop already had a stereo system, so music could be easily played. Not to mention the kitchen could be used for food, so no ordering out or catering.
I'd like to think that Brian agreed to it because my points were good and clear, but I think it was really because I had them written out on five sheets of paper, color-coordinated with pink and lime-green gel pens that made it hard to read. And really, he was tired of squinting his eyes at how small I wrote it out.
It was more defeat than anything else, but I took it and convinced Rianne to help me decorate it. She even made the invitations, too, which were so very cute: red and black cards, with tiny coffee cups at the top. I mailed out the ones to the friends I hadn't met yet, one to my brother, and dropped Jade's off at the bookshop the day before.
There was one left, unnamed, and I thought it'd be great to invite Mr. Paul. I never saw the old man leave the apartment for anything else than his shop, so I wondered if he'd go. He was well out of our age group, but he loved sweets and coffee. I thought giving him the invite meant he could bring his wife, too. They both could have fun.
Settling on the idea that he should go, I stopped outside his apartment the day of the party and knocked on his door. The invitation in my hand was placed in the same envelopes I'd paid my rent in, and I put a smiley face on it, too. Next to the smiley, I wrote for Mr. and Mrs. Paul.
I only knocked twice before he opened his door. When he did, I pushed the invitation happily in his direction. "Happy Saturday!" I exclaimed, smiling too wide. "Tonight's Brian's birthday party. He's turning thirty-one tomorrow. I thought you and your wife would love to come down to the coffee shop for some drinks and cake."
Mr. Paul, dressed in his usual brown cardigan, smiled as he took the invitation from my hand. He held it against his chest. "Thank you, Kay," he said with a small nod, "but I'll pass tonight."
Well, poo...
"Are you sure?" I asked him, trying to peek into his apartment, but he kept the door closely pressed against his arm. "Maybe I could ask Mrs. Paul, and—"
Mr. Paul shook his head, kindness still shining in his eyes. As though to please me, he placed the invitation in the back pocket of his pants. "Tonight isn't a good night, Kay, but thank you for the invitation. Tell Brian to have a happy birthday. Maybe the next time you help downstairs, have Brian with you again. I'll whip up a special batch of cupcakes just for him."
I forced a smile on my face and nodded, taking one step back away from his door. "I'll tell him. Thank you, Mr. Paul. Have a good night."
He didn't really say goodbye, and neither did I, but we smiled once more at each other as he shut the door and I made my way down the stairs. As I pushed myself out of the building and into the rain outside, I told myself I'd bring him a cupcake—two cupcakes, one for him, and one for his wife.