Sydney
Cuddledup,cozyandwarm, Sydney rolled in her bed.She wasn’t ready to be awake, but she smelled bacon.The walls of her apartment weren’t all that thin, but when her neighbors cooked something delicious, it always made her stomach rumble.What she wouldn’t give for a fat bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.
Wait.
Shehadbacon.Opening her eyes, she grinned to herself.She didn’t have to suffer.The scent could come from her kitchen if she wanted it to.A nice BLT on toasted wheat bread would be an excellent start to her day.
Tossing her covers off, she sat up and swiveled so her feet hung over the side of her bed.Did she have tomatoes?Produce had a tendency to rot in her fridge when she bought it.Were the eggs good?She could dip the bacon into a runny yolk.That was just as tempting.
After a long stretch, she climbed out of bed.
Did Fink like bacon?She should’ve asked him what his favorite foods were last night.That would be useful information to have.Not that Sydney was all that good of a cook, but she got by.Running a hand over her stomach, she smirked.She certainly wasn’t starving.
Exiting her bedroom, she glanced past the table and into the small galley kitchen.
What the hell?
She took a few steps through the hall and toward the cooking area.Stopping in the archway, she put her hands on her hips.
Was this a dream?There was no way she saw what she thought she did.
“Good morning,” she greeted the man standing over her stove frying the delicious breakfast meat.
Still wearing the makeup from last night, albeit quite smudged, he turned and smiled.“Finally.”
She cocked her head to the side.
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” he commented as he scooped some strips from the pan and placed them onto a waiting paper-towel-covered plate.“I almost went in there to check if you were alive.”
She snickered.
It was nice to know he wasn’t considering killing her too.Interesting.She was a witness but also his accomplice.
They should work that out.
After breakfast.
“Did you sleep at all?”she asked as she entered the kitchen.
The space was small.There wasn’t much room for two people, but she wanted to get some orange juice.
He shook his head.
Then she noticed the mug on the counter.“You made coffee?”
“Didn’t you smell it?”he asked.
Obviously not.“Not over the bacon.”
“It’s probably cold,” he said.“But I can brew a fresh pot.”
Sydney was acutely aware everything about the last twelve hours was insane.The two of them were playing the part of two people who had lived together for months.They weren’t behaving like strangers who had met over a body and had fucked the night before.
Grinning to herself as she considered the absurdity of it all, she opened the fridge.She might as well roll with it.What other choice did she have?
“Orange juice first, then coffee.”
After pouring two glasses, she turned to see Fink plating an omelet.Where had he found the ingredients?What had he put in it?Her kitchen hadn’t seen this much action since she moved in.
