Chandler. Don’t. Look. Down.
Dammit! I looked down and saw bare feet. The most obnoxious girly sigh came from my mouth and I couldn’t even be ashamed of it. His arm crossed in front of my face, as he reached for a mug from the cupboard.
“Mornin’,” he said, lazily.
I couldn’t breathe while he was so close to me. Taking my coffee, I moved away from him and stood closer to the fridge, leaning my hip against it.
“Hey,” I squeaked out.
Glancing at me over his shoulder, he gave me a strange look. “You okay over there?”
“Yep, just peachy!” I was going to need a cold fucking shower.
He went back to pouring. When he placed the coffee pot back in its holder, he walked toward me. What was he doing? I purposefully moved so I didn’t have to be so close.
“Excuse me.” His voice was low and still sleep filled.
“What?” I blinked up at him.
“I need ice. You’re kind of in the way.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” I said, pushing off the fridge and moved yet again.
Ice? What on Earth did he need ice for? The coffee wasn’t that hot. I watched has he gathered about five cubes in his hands and dumped them in his mug. He stirred them with a spoon until they melted, and only then did he bring the coffee up to his lips to take a sip.
With a raised brow, he took notice of me paying attention to his every move.
“What?”
“Why did you put ice in your coffee?” I questioned.
He was looking at me like I was stupid. “Because I don’t like my coffee hot.”
“So you prefer it cold?” I attempted not to curl my lip.
He looked up at the ceiling as if he was aggravated. “Yep.”
“Huh,” was all I responded with. I felt like all of these little things I was gathering from him were bits of information being stored in a folder marked ‘Dawson’ in my head.
Once again, there was silence between us. After a couple of very awkward minutes, we both started moving about the kitchen as if the other wasn’t there. I made a cup of oatmeal that tasted bland because it wasn’t my usual sugar loaded kind, and he fried himself some eggs. He finished before I did and walked back to his room. I nearly chunked my bowl into the sink in aggravation. I had no clue what was going on with me. Sleep deprivation, confusion, and loneliness were making it hard to function like a normal person. I had to calm down or this living situation, no matter how short, wasn’t going to work.
I reached up, tugged on my messy hair, and grumbled under my breath. I was in desperate need of a shower and clean clothes. I made my way down to my room, passing the hallway bathroom. The water was running on the other side of the closed door, and music was playing softly. Dawson must’ve decided to take a shower, too. I figured I should wait just in case two people couldn’t bathe at the same time without stealing each other’s hot water. Instead of going to lie back down and maybe catch a few zzz’s, I stood there like a total creeper, wondering what he was doing on the other side. In the couple of minutes I stood listening, I never heard the water switch over to the shower. Was he taking a bath? Since when did men take baths? And how on Earth did he even fit in the tub?
I shook my head. “It’s none of your business, Chandler,” I whispered. I didn’t need that kind of visual after the mental torture I’d put myself through all night. I went to my room and shut the door, locking it tight, and buried myself in my bed. Sleep. Sleep was a must.
The morning flew by. I’d fallen back asleep and managed to get two more hours. After getting ready for the day, it was mid-afternoon and the sun had already hit its peak in the sky. Before opening my bedroom door, I waited to hear any sounds to let me know that Dawson was moving around. There was nothing. Hmmm.
Coming out into the living room, I saw that it was empty. I’d already glanced in his room when I walked by, but he wasn’t there either. As I went from room to room, my heart
Dammit! I looked down and saw bare feet. The most obnoxious girly sigh came from my mouth and I couldn’t even be ashamed of it. His arm crossed in front of my face, as he reached for a mug from the cupboard.
“Mornin’,” he said, lazily.
I couldn’t breathe while he was so close to me. Taking my coffee, I moved away from him and stood closer to the fridge, leaning my hip against it.
“Hey,” I squeaked out.
Glancing at me over his shoulder, he gave me a strange look. “You okay over there?”
“Yep, just peachy!” I was going to need a cold fucking shower.
He went back to pouring. When he placed the coffee pot back in its holder, he walked toward me. What was he doing? I purposefully moved so I didn’t have to be so close.
“Excuse me.” His voice was low and still sleep filled.
“What?” I blinked up at him.
“I need ice. You’re kind of in the way.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” I said, pushing off the fridge and moved yet again.
Ice? What on Earth did he need ice for? The coffee wasn’t that hot. I watched has he gathered about five cubes in his hands and dumped them in his mug. He stirred them with a spoon until they melted, and only then did he bring the coffee up to his lips to take a sip.
With a raised brow, he took notice of me paying attention to his every move.
“What?”
“Why did you put ice in your coffee?” I questioned.
He was looking at me like I was stupid. “Because I don’t like my coffee hot.”
“So you prefer it cold?” I attempted not to curl my lip.
He looked up at the ceiling as if he was aggravated. “Yep.”
“Huh,” was all I responded with. I felt like all of these little things I was gathering from him were bits of information being stored in a folder marked ‘Dawson’ in my head.
Once again, there was silence between us. After a couple of very awkward minutes, we both started moving about the kitchen as if the other wasn’t there. I made a cup of oatmeal that tasted bland because it wasn’t my usual sugar loaded kind, and he fried himself some eggs. He finished before I did and walked back to his room. I nearly chunked my bowl into the sink in aggravation. I had no clue what was going on with me. Sleep deprivation, confusion, and loneliness were making it hard to function like a normal person. I had to calm down or this living situation, no matter how short, wasn’t going to work.
I reached up, tugged on my messy hair, and grumbled under my breath. I was in desperate need of a shower and clean clothes. I made my way down to my room, passing the hallway bathroom. The water was running on the other side of the closed door, and music was playing softly. Dawson must’ve decided to take a shower, too. I figured I should wait just in case two people couldn’t bathe at the same time without stealing each other’s hot water. Instead of going to lie back down and maybe catch a few zzz’s, I stood there like a total creeper, wondering what he was doing on the other side. In the couple of minutes I stood listening, I never heard the water switch over to the shower. Was he taking a bath? Since when did men take baths? And how on Earth did he even fit in the tub?
I shook my head. “It’s none of your business, Chandler,” I whispered. I didn’t need that kind of visual after the mental torture I’d put myself through all night. I went to my room and shut the door, locking it tight, and buried myself in my bed. Sleep. Sleep was a must.
The morning flew by. I’d fallen back asleep and managed to get two more hours. After getting ready for the day, it was mid-afternoon and the sun had already hit its peak in the sky. Before opening my bedroom door, I waited to hear any sounds to let me know that Dawson was moving around. There was nothing. Hmmm.
Coming out into the living room, I saw that it was empty. I’d already glanced in his room when I walked by, but he wasn’t there either. As I went from room to room, my heart
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