He’s facing me, his curly hair hanging around his face, falling into his puppy eyes, his hands spread and hugging pillows.
“Did we finally make love to each other, Kas?” he says in a sleepy voice and smiles, fucking with me.
I grab the pillow between us and smack him so hard with it he swears, then laughs at me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mumble between laughs.
I can’t believe this guy. He overdosed last night, basically tried to kill himself, and the first thing he does is go back to joking around. After finger-fucking my girlfriend.
Not my girlfriend. Fuck.
But I know he’s hurting. He hates himself. I’m already quite dead inside but him? He’s still alive there, suffering and spiraling.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I say with sudden seriousness, my brows furrowing.
“What part do you mean?” He rubs his eyes, acting like nothing happened.
“You fucking know what I mean. Next time I’ll leave you to suffocate with your own vomit and throw you in an unmarked grave in the garden,” I snap at him.
“Does that mean I can do the other thing again?” He smirks and I kick him out of the bed, his body smashing to the ground, some swears leaving his lips.
“I take that as maybe,” he forces out between his whining.
I get up, clean myself and we head toward the kitchen. The smell of a homemade meal is something this house has been missing. It never felt like home to me, since we bought it, but this? I could get used to this.
Me and Adrien sit on the barstools by the kitchen island, Kiara with her back to us, attempting to do something on the pan but I already smell the burning oil.
I knew it. She still can’t cook. Unbelievable.
Her hair is scattered around her shoulders, a little messy, her hands are jumping from one thing to another, licking her fingers.
God, this is almost exactly how I imagined it.
“One would think that after all this time, you’d learn how to cook,” I start as she jumps and gasps.
She didn’t hear us coming, apparently, too focused on her cooking arts. She looks at us, her eyes flicking from one to the other, and she starts adorably blushing, sucking one finger in her mouth again.
Did she cut herself? How clumsy do you have to be to cut yourself while making a simple breakfast?
God, she’s so cute.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, it smells amazing!” Adrien jumps from the stool and goes to check what is happening in that pan, Kiara stepping aside.
He grabs a completely black piece of bacon and shoves the whole thing into his mouth, then continues talking through it.
“That’s exactly how I like it, Troubles.”
He finishes the whole burned thing, winks at Kiara and takes another.
Kiara looks at me, her face red as she’s trying to hold in a laugh. When she sees I fight the same thing, we both burst out laughing, watching Adrien down that carcinogenic crunch.
He’s such an idiot.
I send them both to sit on the bar stools and take over the kitchen, throwing out the rest of that burned stuff before the idiot eats it, and I start making French omelets.
They both sit there, watching me. I’m wearing just grey sweatpants, Adrien still in his, Kiara in the big T-shirt, looking irresistible.
What if I kick him out and bend her over the kitchen island?
