Page 91 of Siren's Game

I do, but my dad can’t be bothered to get one for the apartment and I’m too stingy to buy one with how little I’m actually here. So filtered coffee it is.

But before I decide on breakfast, I get a breath mint. Otherwise, I'm probably going to puke from the foul taste of alcohol and sleep in my mouth.

God, I'm never drinking tequila again. But it was the only alcohol I had at home and the prospect of not seeing Kayla again . . . well, it warranted a proper one-man booze party.

Do I regret it today? Absolutely.

But in no frame of mind did I dare hope that she would come over.

With a small smile on my face, I open my cupboards to see what I'm dealing with. This one is empty. The next one has eggs. I think I have flour on the counter. Oh, hell yeah, there are some painkillers. I quickly pop two in and gulp them down with a sip of water from the sink.

After scouting the rest of my kitchen, I'm pretty sure I have everything for waffles. Perfect to celebrate this new beginning to our relationship, even though we definitely still have a lot to talk about.

Also, waffles are the perfect hangover food, and I am definitely hung over.

I look up when I hear Kayla’s bare feet patter over the ground, just as the waffle iron is warm enough to fill in the first load of dough.

Without a word, she opens my fridge and checks it for stuff to eat our waffles with, pulling out my strawberries, blueberries, and whipped cream, grinning at me as she pops one of the strawberries into her mouth as she walks over.

When she’s next to me, she leans her head against my shoulder and lets out a deep, contented sigh.

I want to protest when she steps away again, but she only turns around, places her palms on my kitchen counter and then lifts herself onto it.

Making her the perfect height to cage her in with my arms and kiss her. And I just have to make use of that.

"Hmm." She sighs against my lips when I press them against hers. "No offense, and I appreciate the mint, but you still taste like foul tequila. Go brush your teeth."

She pushes me off playfully and I give in, padding over to my bathroom with fake devastation.

“Oh, the rejection,” I say dramatically and chuckle when I see a blueberry fly past me. I blow her a kiss as I turn the corner to my bathroom and laugh when I only narrowly avoid getting hit in the face by a second fruit.

I brush my teeth in record time and take another second to brush my sleep-messy hair before I put it back into a hair bun.

And I’m fucking whistling while doing it, because I just can’t contain the goddamn happiness that bubbles in my core.

When I walk back into the kitchen, I find her commanding the waffle iron, filling it with the next load of dough as she quietly hums. Coming closer, I make out the same melody I heard in my very apartment a few weeks back as she tinkered with her lyrics.

I cross my arms in front of my stomach and lean against the doorframe, watching her, just like back then. I can’t get enough of her. The way she almost dances while she works, ‘Can’t help falling in love’ the perfect soundtrack to this morning, and even more perfect coming from her very lips.

When she sees me from the corner of her eyes, she grins and jumps right back on the counter, the finished waffle on a plate next to her.

It smells heavenly in here, but I can’t pay it any mind when she opens her arms for me to step into. Her legs open willingly, and I put my arms around her, burying my head in the crook of her neck and taking a deep breath.

"You know we're going to have to talk about this, right?" I mumble against her skin and feel her whole body move with the sigh that escapes her. No tensing, though; that’s a plus.

And we need to talk about it soon. Because I’m fucking scared. This whole morning feels too good to be true.

"I know," she assures me and presses her lips against my cheek. Her hand does that nice rubbing thing on my neck, and I close my eyes, turning into putty in her arms. Until I smell something burning.

"Shit," I exclaim and shoot up, pulling the pitch-black waffle out of the iron. "Whoops."

Kayla giggles and shakes her head at me as I try to clean the iron a bit with a paper towel before pouring more batter in it. Once it's in, she beckons me closer with little grabby hands, but as much as it pains me, I shake my head.

"I might be falling in love with you, but I'm also really fucking hungry." I chuckle when she turns beet red and take two mugs out of my cupboard when my coffee machine beeps to signal that the pot is done. "Milk?"

"Please," she says softly and pulls open the waffle iron as the little light on it changes from red to green with a soft click.

When I return with our mugs, filled to the brim with caffeine goodness, she is pulling apart the fresh waffle and puts a piece of it into her mouth, her eyes going wide as though I caught her doing something forbidden before her face breaks into a sheepish smile.

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