Page 62 of The Problem with Dating

I dragged myself from his bed and pulled myself to the bathroom attached to said bedroom. The moment I glanced in the mirror, I almost audibly gasped at the level of hot mess staring back at me. Raccoon eyes, smeared lipstick, and my curls all tangled with one another.

I cupped my hand over my mouth, blew in it, and almost gagged from the stench of my own breath.

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered, turning on his sink faucet. I washed my hands, then added Alex’s toothpaste to my finger and began aggressively brushing my teeth with the finger toothbrush. I gurgled his mouthwash, spat it out, and then washed my face, removing all evidence of my tarnished makeup from the night before.

Though I feared Alex probably saw me at my worst over the past few hours.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I glanced up to see Alex standing in his doorframe with a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He arched an eyebrow. “Hey, good morning. Or, well, afternoon.”

“It’s afternoon?” I breathed out.

“Twelve thirty, yes.”

How had I slept so long?

I walked over to him and took the medicine and water bottle from his grip. “Thanks.” I tossed the pills into my mouth, took a swig of water, and swallowed. “For…everything.”

He smiled.

He smiled! Like on purpose. At me.

“Not a problem,” he replied. “I headed to the restaurant earlier and got your purse for you. I also cooked you up a few things if you’re hungry. It’s staying warm in the oven.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You cooked for me?”

“I cooked for you.”

“Why?”

He grew slightly timid and shrugged his left shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe. His voice dropped a few octaves, and his lips turned up once again. “Your wish is my command.”

My eyelash wish. He was being nice to me because of my drunken wish I’d made.

Glimmer.

He led me to the dining room and served me a plate with food. All the food. Hash browns, homemade cinnamon rolls, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Scones! He’d made me scones.

“Would you like orange juice?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. I always want orange juice. And water, please,” I requested as I sat comfortably at the head of his table.

After grabbing the drinks for me, he made himself a plate and sat across from me. We ate in silence for a while. I didn’t know if it was his nerves or my own that were making the gathering of words almost impossible. The butterflies fluttered in my stomach as his words kept echoing in my mind.

Your wish is my command.

If I had known that was true, I would’ve wished for a few more things from Alex. Like his smiles. And his laughter. His friendship. Sure, we had a rocky start, to say the least, but I bet Alex was a remarkable friend. Noah was living proof of that.

“I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself last night,” I said as I bit into a piece of bacon.

“You didn’t, and if you had made a fool of yourself, it would’ve been fine, too.”

I smiled, leaned toward him, and whispered, “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”

He leaned forward and whispered back, “A total ass of yourself.”

I snickered. “I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

“I wouldn’t want that to change.”

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