“Ooomph,” I groan, as a heavy weight covers me hard and fast, cutting off my air supply and jolting me awake.
My eyes burst open and I’m met with CeCe’s bright blue eyes. She looks like she’s guilty of something. Or maybe I’m projecting. Who the fuck knows.
“Bitch, you better wake the fuck up, right the fuck now.”
“Ugh. Go awayyyyy,” I groan and make a futile attempt at shoving her off me. I don’t understand how someone so small can be so strong and heavy. “It’s too early in the morning and I need more sleep.”
She boops my nose with her finger. “I hate to break it to you, Dem, butmorningended an hour ago.” She pushes off me with her hands on my tits, smashing them up and into my face like the asshole she is. “Now get up. I’ll make some coffee to help bring you back to the land of the living.”
I grab a pillow and toss it aggressively at her head. “Jesus, CeCe. Was that really necessary?”
She smirks annoyingly at me and saunters back through the open door.Jerk.
She’s not really a jerk. This is just what we do. We annoy each other but it comes from a place of love. This isnotthe first time she’s woken me up like this.And bythis, I mean aggressively. She’s a morning person, though and I most definitely am not.
Slowly, I pad through the apartment in my bare feet, letting the scent of promised caffeine fill my nostrils.
“Oh, sweet heavens, this smells divine,” I grumble as I pour myself a cup and search the fridge for creamer. When I finally grab it, I notice something missing. “Where is my cream puff, CeCe?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would, however, like to talk about your hair.” Classic deflection. Jesus, I think Raegan is in my head again, with all these psych terms. “Like, woah, girl. I’ve seen some interesting things in my life, butthatwould probably be considered a work of art in some countries.”
Yet another thing she’s always ribbed me about… my wild morning hair.
“I’m glad you like it.” I grin. “I worked on it all night.”
“Don’t lie. I know what time you got home and it was practically morning. If you worked on it all night, it wasn’t from sleeping.” She gives me a sheepish grin, watching me pour my creamer into my favorite mug.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Her hand flies to her chest as she lets out an overly dramatic scoff of horror. “Moi? Surely, I have no idea what you mean.”
“Mhmm,” I deadpan. She knows. She always knows.
I test my coffee and accidentally moan as the flavor bursts across my tongue. My dear lord, this is so good.
“Do you two need a minute?” CeCe asks with a salaciously quirked brow.
“Nope. I have zero issues doing what I need to with this coffee, right in front of your face.” I lean over the marble countertop on the island and eye her curiously. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, if you confess you confiscated my cream puff. I promise I won’t get mad.”
“You promise? Really?” She doesn’t believe me and she’s probably right not to. I was really looking forward to that.
“Mhm.” I answer quietly, nodding for added effect.
“Okay, I ate it.”
“CeCe!!” I shriek.
“What the fuck? You promised!”
“I fucking lied! You know how much I love fancy pastries. This one looked so tempting in the window of the patisserie on my way home. It was practically calling my name.”
“I’m sorry. When I become a fancy ass pastry chef, I’ll make it up to you with all the finest fancy pastries. For life.”
She doesn’t look very sorry, but she also knows I’m incapable of actually being mad at her. Yet one more example of how we bicker, but also love like sisters.
“Don’t you have to apply to the fancy ass culinary institute and get accepted before you can become a fancy ass pastry chef, CeCe?” Low blow, I know. But she’s been putting it off for too long. It’s time to shit or get off the pot.
Her face falls flat as she squints her eyes into tiny slits. “I hate you.”
