Rich Boys by Heather L. Benton

Author:Heather L. Benton [Benton, Heather L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gold Room Press
Published: 2015-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When I woke up the next morning, bright light streamed through the window of the bedroom, hurting my eyes. Alex’s arm still weighed down my torso, and my neck felt a little stiff from the unfamiliar pillow. I shifted a bit, and Alex groaned, releasing the burden of his arm from me as he stretched.

"Morning," he whispered, and kissed my hair.

I recoiled and said nothing. I felt him get off of the bed, and then I turned to look at him. He stretched again as he stood upright, and ruffled his hair.

"I made sure to get this pancake mix that you only need to add water to when I stocked the cupboards. So we can have pancakes for breakfast if you want. Or even crepes if you're feeling fancy."

His mood seemed light. He acted like My Alex again, speaking as if things were the same as they ever were. I sat up, and watched him put on some socks.

"Have a preference?" he asked.

"I don’t feel that hungry."

"Oh, you will after you see me whip up these puppies. They will be, hands-down, the most delicious plain, just-add-water boxed mix pancakes you've ever tasted."

It made me want to weep, seeing him like this. Like seeing the ghost of a loved one, knowing full well it was just a phantom image and that the real person was dead.

"Sounds gourmet," I muttered.

"Sounds like you need some coffee."

Sounds like you need medication and a padded cell, I thought. And then I felt a pang of guilt for even thinking it with any sarcasm, because it was probably the heart wrenching truth. It had to be at this point.

Alex let me use the bathroom and brush my teeth. I swallowed down a birth control pill, and then he guided me downstairs and back into the kitchen. He started the coffee pot, pulled out a mixing bowl and the bag of pancake mix.

I fiddled with my hands. "Did you happen to get any tea when you were, um, stocking up? I’m not sure my stomach can handle coffee this morning."

"I don’t think I bought any tea. But there might be some here from the last time my mom visited." He searched through cupboards, moving things around and inspecting small boxes of non-perishables. "Ah! Here. It’s probably kind of old, but if you like Earl Grey, there you go."

I evaluated the box. It expired about six months earlier. It would do.

Alex whistled as he measured out pancake mix and water, whisked it together, and heated the griddle on the stove. Then the teakettle he'd put on whistled, too. He brought it over with a mug, poured it for me, and then took it away, placing the kettle back on the stove. Again, he stood to the side as he poured out circles of batter, keeping watch over me out of the corner of his eye. I bobbed the tea bag a few times, and took small sips.

Between studying Alex at the stove, I glimpsed out the windows

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