Yeah.
Yeah, those pancakes wereburnt.
Cremated, even.
“I think I’ve got thetemperature right this time, if you’d like to wait for an edible one,” Foxcontinued, looking up at me uncertainly.
I hadn’t seen himunsure about anything before now. I hadn’t seen himvulnerable.
I wanted to stare at him allday. I wanted to look at him sleep-tousled and offering me maybe-not-burnt pancakesfor as long as he’d let me.
Fox was soreal. Notthe perfectly-chiseled ex-army bodyguard with the hot scar and the coolmotorbike, but just… some guy.
Some guy I’d had a lot offun with last night. Who’d been the perfect gentleman before that. Who’d put upwith every embarrassing thing I’d done so far with grace and warmth.
Who was still here.
Still standing in mykitchen, making pancakes, looking at me like he was waiting for a rejection.
How long had I dreamed ofthis? Of a nice, normal morning after with a nice, normal boy that I had a hugestupid crush on, who made me smile every time I looked at him.
It was hard to believe hewas standing there, existing in my life, worrying about whether or not I’d eat a burntpancake.
I would. I’d eat a burntpancake and I’denjoyit, because Fox had done this for me, and I felt sospecial I could have burst into a shower of marshmallows and sunshine.
“The burnt ones are thebest,” I said, picking up one of the cooler pancakes and tearing a piece off. “Mymom always burns them.”
Fox snorted as I shoved thebite in my mouth. It wasn’t all that bad. With a little syrup and somebutter, they would have been nice.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any ofeither. Fox probably didn’t think to check, despite being surprised that I alsodidn’t have milk or sugar in the house when he arrived.
“Well. All yours, then,” Foxsaid, pushing the plate over to me. “You need the energy.”
“Ididuse a lot lastnight.”I grinned, remembering how muchfunFox had been. I hoped therewas more of that in my future. “My thighs hurt.”
“Sorry.”
I shook my head, takinganother bite of pancake. I was starving, as it turned out. “Don’t be. It’s agood ache. Reminds me it was real.”
“Very real,” Fox confirmed. “Andnot bad, if I say so myself,” he added with a lopsided smile that made him lookfive years younger.
Or more his own age, maybe.Fox wasn’tall that much older than I was.
“I don’t have a lot tocompare to,” I said, still working my way through the pancakes. “So for me itwas incredible, and now you’re spoiling me by making breakfast.”
“You deserve to be spoiled.And I rarely get the chance to stay the night.”
“So you, umm. You do this alot?”
“Sex? Yes,” Fox said. “Morningsafter, no. As I was just saying.”
“What’s it like?”
“Sex?” Fox raised aneyebrow.
“Having sex with lots ofdifferent people,” I clarified. I knew what sex was like. Kind of.
I did now, anyway. It washard to call anything I’d done beforesexin the light ofwhat being with Fox had been like.
