Page 15 of Are You Gonna Run?
It’s just... my kitchen isn’t empty when I get there.
Eris is standing over my stove flipping pancakes and humming to himself.
He didn’t leave at all.
“Uh... hi,” I say softly. “Good morning.”
He’s just as beautiful as he was yesterday — maybe even more so with his messy bed head and light dusting of scruff, but it’s his smile that blinds me.
He changed somehow, now sporting a grey hoodie and black sweats I assume he got out of his truck. For the tiniest moment, my brain tricks me into believing he’s actually mine. He’s comfortable enough in my house that it seems like he’s lived here a while, and when he walks over to plop a messy, enthusiastic kiss on my lips, I freeze. “Morning. Hope you don’t mind Iborrowed some food. Figured you’d wake up as hungry as I did. Coffee?”
Fuck. I genuinely don’t know whether to be relieved or nervous that he’s still here and making himself at home. “Coffee sounds great. I thought you left.”
Eris chuckles. “You thought you got rid of me after making me feel that good?”
He reaches back to slap my ass softly, and then pulls out a mug for me without even having to search for it, complicating things more.
Did he snoop through my whole house, or just the kitchen?
“I didn’t mean get rid of you, I just... never mind.”
“Mmhm. So how’d you sleep after round two?”
I swear he looks a little pleased with himself as he checks me out, undoubtedly seeing all the marks he left on me. It makes me squirm. “Like a rock, apparently. I didn’t hear you get up.”
“Did my job then.” He winks and slides over a cup of hot coffee, at least giving me something to do with my hands as I internally freak out.
I had this all sorted in my head. I did. And now he’s here, throwing a wrench into all of it.
“So... breakfast then,” I comment uselessly. “Do you like cooking?”
“I do actually,” he admits. “Especially breakfast food, but I usually cook all my meals at home. I made some extra bacon for you to toss in the air fryer for lunch too. Figured you’d be sore, and tossing together a quick BLT would be nice. Any chance you got a grill? I make a mean ass steak too.”
And he cooks? Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. I’m just not seeing it yet. “There’s one on the back patio, but I honestly don’t know if it works or how to use it. My neighbor gave me his old one when he upgraded.”
“I’ll figure it out.” He dishes up the food and sets a plate in front of me, then makes one for himself. “You look lost in thought. Is breakfast the line?”
He sounds like he’s teasing, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that didn’t exist a minute ago. How the hell did one haunted house get so complicated?
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. I don’t want to placate him or hide the truth, so I don’t. “I was sad when I thought you were gone, but figured it was probably for the best. I guess I’m not awake enough to pivot back to the idea that you stayed.”
Nodding, he takes a few bites of food before he speaks again. “So if you were sad, does that mean you would have reached out?”
God, why did he have to ask me so directly? This is about to be a really awkward breakfast. “Actually, I’d decided not to,” I admit quietly. “It’s not because I didn’t have fun or wouldn’t want to talk to you again, I just thought it would be easier.”
“I appreciate the honesty. Good thing I didn’t leave it up to you, huh?” He chuckles. “Little miss ‘I can do it myself’ doesn’t need me, but I’m here anyway, Burrito. Eat your food.”
Frowning slightly, I take a bite of the best pancake I’ve ever had. It tastes like he put cinnamon and magic in the batter, and it’s melting in my mouth. “Holy shit,” I mumble. “Eris, this is good. Really good.”
That makes his smile grow. “The recipe is a secret only me and some guy named Google know. Good luck replicating it.”
I’m an okay cook, but even following directions, things never turn out restaurant quality for me. Not like this. Picking at it, I think about what he said before. “It’s not that I think I can do everything on my own and don’t need anyone. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I was teasing.” He bumps me lightly with his shoulder. “You make bullying you hard. All I want to do is kiss you and make you come. Your frown is adorable, though.”
That’s not really the kind of bullying I meant, but I get where he’s coming from. I did say I wanted that, I just don’t want to hurt his feelings by making him think he’s not wanted, nor do I want to set myself up for failure.
Clearly, I need more coffee.
