Page 13 of F*ck You

5

Lee

Heavenly scents invaded my nose and brought me back to consciousness. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was, and the light was so bright that I wanted to find something to throw at it. Who turned the sun on full capacity? They needed to die for that.

My hand was like lead as I lifted it up to rub my head, fighting off the little headache that threatened to invade. If hangovers were going to become my new daily routine, I would need to come up with a system to get rid of them fast.

I opened my eyes slowly and rolled out of bed. My feet hit the floor at the same time the headache worsened, and I threw a hand to my forehead in an attempt to calm the raging storm inside. I vaguely remembered being in the ocean and then being in bed, but I couldn’t remember what happened in between. Judging by the filtered light streaming from behind the curtains, it was either still the same day and I didn’t sleep for very long, or it was the next morning already and I’d slept through the night. The only thing that kept me from falling forward and going back to sleep was the need to find out who the fuck was cooking in my kitchen, because I certainly hadn’t done anything in there other than eat chips. I hadn’t even looked at the buttons on the microwave yet.

Making my way quietly downstairs, I followed the scents that kept invading my nostrils and making my stomach growl. For a brief moment, I didn’t care if a cannibal was in my kitchen preparing a Lee stew, I wanted whatever they were making.

Surprise filled me when I saw a familiar pair of bright eyes looking at me. He flashed me a grin over his shoulder before turning to flip something in the pan on the stove. I leaned my back against the stair rail, staring at the guy who apparently broke into my home to make breakfast.

“Morning, sunshine. Or should I say afternoon? It might be afternoon by now.”

“What are you doing?” I asked. This had to be the same day, because why would he come back over here the next day? After I most certainly made a fool of myself trying to drown my drunk ass in the ocean, he should have been running the other way. Checking on me afterward just wasn’t a thing most people did for me.

The tan t-shirt he was wearing earlier was now dried, and the hem looked stiff from the saltwater.

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “I’m making food. We’re both human, and we both require food to function. It’s science.” I opened my mouth to say something, maybe even argue his science, but he cut me off. “You can have your whiskey back after you eat something. Alcohol doesn’t count as your required three daily meals.” He turned back toward the stove and continued flipping what looked to be pancakes. I could smell them from over here. Mmm, buttermilk. Looking at the plate on the counter, I noticed some of the pancakes even had chocolate chips in them. I didn’t realize there were any chocolate chips here, I must have missed them in the pantry.

“I’m doing just fine feeding myself, thank you very much.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a defensive posture.

“Empty bottles don’t count as eating food. Chips won’t sustain you forever. Maybe I could even convince you to eat a vegetable.”

Oh yeah, that was right. I had intended to order something, but I ended up in bed that night after drinking instead. “I’m not helping you cook. You did this all on your own.”

“I’m perfectly okay with that.” He paused what he was doing to pour a dark liquid into a mug, top it with whipped cream, and then hand it to me. “Here, this will help the headache I’m sure you’re fighting. Go ahead and sit down, it’ll be ready in a minute.”

Taking the warm mug between my hands, I sat down at the table. I didn’t take my eyes off of him the entire time I sipped the coffee. I was so distracted by watching his muscles ripple under the tight shirt while he cooked me food that I forgot to pace myself, and I ended up spilling some of the coffee on the table as I jerked the burning liquid away from my mouth.

“Shit.” I grabbed the bath towel from the nearby spot on the floor where I failed to actually put stuff away, and cleaned up the mess.

“Careful, princess, it might be hot.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not sunshine either.”

“You’re most definitely not that.”

“I’m—”

“If the next thing you say is that you’re also not a pretty girl, which is the only other thing I’ve called you, then I’m not going to give you any food.”

I glared at him. “It’s my food!”

“It was your food. I’ve transformed it, so now it’s mine.”

“Dickhead.”

“Sunshine.”

I shot daggers at him with my eyes as I took another sip of coffee. My tongue currently had no feeling in it, but I didn’t know what else to do other than to walk over and slap him. I was fairly certain that wasn’t something I should do to someone who was feeding me, but I could only control my actions for so long.

To my surprise, he reached over and rubbed his thumb above my upper lip. “You’re getting covered in whipped cream.” He stuck his thumb into his mouth with a smile as he walked back into the kitchen. What the fuck was going on here?

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