Chapter 19 - Everett
Everett
After I wake up the next day, I worry that I may have unintentionally made LB uncomfortable.
His boundaries are extensive, and I never meant to disrespect them.
I shouldn’t have worried, though. He exits his bedroom a few minutes later, takes one look at me standing in the middle of his living room, looking for all the world like a lost puppy, and bursts into a fit of giggles.
This time, the tears running down his face are happy ones.
“Your…face,” he wheezes out in between peals of laughter.
I stand there, cheeks blazing, but I can’t bring myself to say anything that might bring an end to the light moment between us.
LB’s laughter slowly fades, but the spark in his eyes remains. “How about some breakfast?”
“That sounds good. What were you thinking?” I ask. The sudden hesitancy that spreads over his face takes me off guard.
“Well, I was thinking about making pancakes, if that sounds good to you.”
Warmth spreads through my chest as the memory of a day long past flashes through my mind. He’s too busy staring at his toes as they dig into the carpet to notice my reaction. I clear the sudden thickness in my throat. “Yea, LB, pancakes sound perfect.”
There’s no frilly apron this time, but the sight of LB standing in front of the stove is no less endearing than the first time.
His curls are a riot, mussed from sleep.
There’s still a slight hint of the impression from the pillow he slept on pressed into his cheek.
His oversized hoodie practically goes to his knees.
He’s got music playing, and every now and again he does a random hip roll or booty shake to go along with his spatula karaoke.
I sit at the bar quietly soaking it all in.
When he sets a plate in front of me, I’m pleasantly shocked.
These are a far cry from the amorphous blobs he used to serve.
The pancakes in front of me are perfectly round, thick, and fluffy.
They’re browned just right with the crispy edges I love, and the hint of vanilla tickling my nose has me leaning in closer.
When I glance up, I notice his eyebrows are scrunched tight, and his fingers are tugging at his bottom lip.
“These look amazing, and they smell even better. I can’t wait to try them.” At that, I grab the syrup and drizzle a conservative amount over the pancakes, not wanting to overwhelm the flavor.
LB doesn’t have the same regard for the pancakes’ natural flavor as I do.
He snatches up the bottle and proceeds to drown his plate in the sticky liquid.
I chuckle at his ridiculousness, but it dies quickly, turning into an appreciative groan the second the taste of the pancakes spreads across my tongue.
“LB… These are perfect!” At my words, his shoulders slump as the tension releases.
“Much better than when we were kids, huh?” he asks as a knowing smirk overtakes his face.
I feel my blush as it spreads. “I mean…those were pretty great too.”
He rolls his eyes and levels me with one of his glares. “They were awful. You can admit it.”
“They weren’t that bad. Just…abstract.” At this, he bursts into laughter, and I swear the sight has the heavens singing.
We spend the rest of the morning talking and laughing, lounging on the couch, and generally just enjoying each other’s company.
When it’s time for me to head back to my place, though, the mood plummets.
Neither of us really wants to part, but I have to get my stuff together for my shift tomorrow.
We stand in the doorway far longer than we should, unwilling, or maybe unable, to say goodbye until the elevator dings, and an older woman steps off, breaking the spell.
With a gentle squeeze of his hand, I turn, leaving my heart behind in a second-floor apartment.