“A chef? Nah. This was nothing.”
“Nothing!?” You lift the cake carefully higher, examining all the sides, getting a closer look at the perfect, artful swirls of chocolate. There’s not a crumb to be seen, not a stray bit of frosting or a chocolate curl out of place. It’s perfect. “This is amazing!”
“Be careful,” Ziros says with a grin, still leaning against the wall. “You know every compliment you give me is going straight to my ego.”
He looks like he’s joking, but you’re pretty sure he’s absolutely serious.
At least he’s self-aware?
He already has an ego big enough for two people, but how could younotcompliment him?
“Nobody’s ever done this for me before,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the cake in awe.
You sniffle, trying to blink back the tears as they threaten to spill over.
Too late.
“You’re crying,” Ziros says with a frown, pushing off the wall. He carefully takes the cake plate from your hands, setting it on the bedside table before sitting down on the comforter beside you.
He slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“Hey, now. Please tell me you’re crying because of how awesome I am, and not because I’ve been deceived by everything I read on your phone about modern traditions, and giving cake on a birthday actually means something awful.”
You laugh softly, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your borrowed shirt.
“It’s definitely the former.”
“Oh?” You can hear the smirk in Ziros’ voice even before you look at his face. “So you’re saying I’m actually so awesome, I made you cry?”
You nod, then shake your head.
That just makes him grin wider.
“Mission accomplished.” He tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Leaning close, he whispers, “Happy birthday, human.”
Is this a dream? It must be a dream.
You can’t even bring yourself to be annoyed that he’s still calling you ‘human’. If anything, it’s almost endearing.
He pulls away, taking the cake back to the kitchen with him.
“So, should I let you cut this, or do I bring you a slice?”
Normally you might not be so keen on having cake first thing upon waking, but hey, it’s a special occasion.
“You can bring me a slice. If you don’t mind.”
And besides. Being hand-delivered homemade cake in bed by a hot guy is kinda a dream come true.
Speaking of hot things.
You blush at the memory of last night.
Did that seriously happen?
You might think it was just a dream, but the bite marks in your borrowed shirt say otherwise.
Who knew being bitten by a vampire could be so hot?
