WAKING UP IN KIPTON’S BED isn’t nearly as scary when you can remember the events of the previous night. Unfortunately, they still weren’t pleasant. I almost wish I couldn’t remember my night, but then I wouldn’t have the memory of Kipton telling me I was his.
I roll over in the bed expecting to find his handsome face, but his side is empty. Before I have a chance to worry where he went, the door opens. Slipping back inside the room, Kipton greets me with a warm smile. “Morning, beautiful.”
I try not to, but I can’t control it. Blushing from his endearment, I manage to squeak out a good morning of my own.
“Breakfast is served.” He sets a tray of food on the end of the bed and leans down to place a gentle kiss on my lips. I could get used to waking up like this every day.
“What’s all that?”
Smiling broadly, he waves his hand in front of the tray like he’s Vanna White. “I made you breakfast in bed.”
I’m impressed. I don’t know many college guys capable of cooking anything besides toast or slapping some meat between two slices of bread. “You know how to cook?”
He scoffs playfully. “Of course I do. I took Home Economics in high school.”
Laughing, I cuddle up under the warm blankets. “So you can make grilled cheese, french toast, a smoothie, and macaroni and cheese?”
“Technically yes, but my mom also taught me a bunch of other things. It’s our thing—cooking together. Cara can’t cook for shit though.” That doesn’t surprise me at all. He slides underneath his side of the covers and pulls the tray on top of his lap. Bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, granola, and strawberries fill up every inch of the tray. “I didn’t know what you like, so I made a little of everything.”
I smile at his thoughtfulness and take a bite of the fruit. The berries are fresh, sweet, and delicious. Reaching over, I offer him a bite which he takes. I pull my hand away from his mouth, but he sucks my finger inside with the strawberry. Gently sucking, he flicks the tip with his tongue. After a few more seconds of teasing, he releases me from his mouth and swallows.
“Do you have class today?”
“What?” How he can go from sucking on my finger to regular conversation without skipping a beat is beyond me. My finger is still tingling from his tongue and he’s already moved on to something else.
Smirking, he knows how much his touch affects me. “Class. Do you have any today?”
“Oh. No. I have Friday’s off this semester. You?”
“I’m off too.”
I pick up another berry and take a bite. It’s cold on my sensitive teeth. “Can I have the granola?”
“Of course you can.” He hands me the bowl with milk already in it. We eat in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward. I’m wondering when he’s planning on addressing the drama from last night. I know we still have a lot to talk about despite any progress we made—I’m going to get an earful at some point.
I almost spill my cereal when a bang strong enough to rattle the windows has someone cursing downstairs. Kipton laughs. “Don’t worry, the guys are downstairs cleaning up the mess. They usually have very colorful language to go along with their hangovers.”
“And you sit up here and listen to them suffer?”
“Hell yeah, I do. I was in their shoes a few years ago. I’ve earned my freedom.”
I finish the last few bites of my granola and place the bowl back on the tray. “It must be interesting living here.” I look around for something to put on, but I don’t see my clothes. “Where are my things?”
“I hid them.”
“Why would you hide them?” I try to pull the sheet off the bed, but he has it tucked in at the bottom so tightly it won’t budge. I’m not comfortable enough to get up fully naked to look for them.
He places the tray on the floor and rests against the headboard. “So I can keep you in my bed all day.” He rubs his hands together deviously like he’s cooking up a plan.
I giggle from his excitement. “As much as I would love that, I have to go to the bathroom first. Can I borrow a shirt or something if you’re not going to give me my clothes back?” I wait for him to move, but instead he sits staring at me. Playful Kipton is gone. I punch his arm, hoping to bring him back. “I’ll only be a minute. What’s wrong?”
He leans over the side of the bed and grabs one of his clean T-shirt’s from the wash basket. “Nothing. Here.” Instead of handing it to me, he pops my head through the shirt. I stick my arms in the sleeves and pull it down to cover most of my body. The shirt smells like him and I might have to keep it.
“Thank you. Be right back.” I scoot off the bed and hurry to the bathroom at the end of the hall with a very angry bladder hurrying me along. I shut the door and rush over to the toilet. In my haste, I forget to check the seat before sitting down and fall in. Yelping in surprise, I grasp onto the corner of the sink and the toilet paper holder to hold myself up. Gagging, my feet find the floor and I can stand to put the seat down. Men!
I didn’t ask if I can take a shower, but I hop in anyway, turning the water on as hot as I can tolerate it. There’s no way I’m climbing back into Kipton’s bed with all those germs on my body.
Soaking up the warm spray of water, I’m instantly revived and refreshed. Three bottles of body wash line the shower wall and after sniffing each one, I easily know which belongs to Kipton. I pour a little into my hand and lather up, replacing the germs with his irresistible scent.
I’m forced to wrap Kipton’s t-shirt around me instead of a towel when I finish. My butt is barely covered and the fabric is soaking up the water from my body quickly. I open the bathroom door and check for his roommates. When the coast is clear, I run back to Kipton’s room. Slipping on the hard wood floor, I end up shutting the door with too much gusto, slamming it loudly. “Sorry. Do you have any extra towels in here?” When I turn to face the bed, Kipton’s crouched over with his head in his hands, grasping onto his messy morning hair. “Are you okay?”
He lifts his head and glares at me. “Are you?”
“I’m fine, now.”
“Sophie, please don’t do it in my house.”
Completely confused by his mood swing, I don’t know what to say to him. I’m freezing from the shower and desperately want my clothing back. “I didn’t do anything. Can I have my clothes?”
“No.”
Is he for real right now? “Why not?”
“Because you need to listen to what I have to say first.”
“What’s up your ass all of a sudden?”
“Help me understand why, Sophie?”
I have no idea what he’s asking me. “What did I do? Why are you acting so weird?”
“You threw up your breakfast didn’t you?” He stands up and starts pacing.
Understanding why he’s being so cold, but not willing to put up with it, I defend myself. “Not that I need to justify myself to you or anyone else, but I went to the bathroom. To pee!”
“So, you eat, run to the bathroom as soon as you finish, and come back showered?”
“Yes. I want my clothes, Kipton. Tell me where you put them.”
“You can’t have them until you answer me,” he shouts.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I’m so angry I start to shake. He doesn’t believe me. I raise my voice another octave, “Give them to me. You’re being an ass and have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe you should get your facts straight before you go accusing people of shit they didn’t do.”
“I’m an ass because I don’t want the girl I care about shoving her head in the toilet every time she puts food in her mouth?”
“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about, Kipton. And you have it all wrong.”
“Sophie you can’t keep this up. You’ll kill yourself. Do you even realize that?” He throws a pillow at the wall and when that doesn’t give him the satisfaction he needs, he launches his cell phone instead. It doesn’t shatter into pieces, instead falling on top of a pile of clothing.
The bedroom door opens and Caleb’s standing in the doorway looking back and forth between Kipton and me. “What’s going on, guys? Kipton, I could hear you yelling through my bedroom wall.”