Snowflake
1224 Words
The sun peeked through my sheer purple bedroom curtains, its brightness burning my eyes. I was on my side, facing my alarm clock, which said seven o'clock.
Gabe's steady breath tickled my neck.
A weight pressed against my hip - Gabe's arm.
All that had happened last night came crashing back, and he was still there, in my bed with me.
I slowly rolled onto my back.
Gabe shifted.
A smile curled his lips.
"It's a bit early for a Saturday, Snowflake." His words were low, heavy with sleep.
Sensual, my mind uttered, and my heart responded by beating rapidly.
Before I could give him a comeback, my nose registered the sultry smell of bacon. "Someone's cooking," I whispered.
"Do you think it's the psychotic murderer? He's going to feed us before he slays us?" he asked, mischievous.
I punched him in the arm. "You heard me last night?"
"Snowflake, I think the whole town heard you." He opened his eyes then.
Two beautiful pools of green searched my face, lingering on my lips before focusing on my eyes.
My skin warmed, and I looked away.
"I love it when you blush," he said softly.
"You do?" I couldn't believe he'd stayed, and we were lying next to each other.
All night.
Did he like me?
What about Cindy?
Should I tell him she had a thing for him?
His hand rested on my stomach, and I wondered if he could feel the electricity buzzing beneath.
"Snowflake, I do." He rolled onto his side, and I did the same, his fingers creating goosebumps as they moved back to my hip.
Our noses practically touched, and I suddenly worried about morning breath.
I hadn't brushed my teeth and turned in my lips, pressing them together.
He started laughing. "What are you doing?"
"I haven't brushed my teeth," I said, cupping a hand over my mouth.
He pulled my hand away. "Don't care."
"Yeah, but what about your morning breath? It might singe my eyelashes," I said, finally coming up with a snappy comeback.
He laughed and rotated off the bed. "You have a point. Let's go see what the psychotic murderer is cooking along with that bacon."
I grinned, thankful, and disappointed that the moment had ended.
"I'll be down in a minute."
He raised his eyebrows in question, and I glanced in the direction of my bathroom.
"Ah," was all he said as he went to the door.
A bolt of agony shot into my heart. I didn't want him to leave.
I'd clung to him in my dreams last night.
Awake, I didn't want to stop.
I needed him, with his incessant playfulness and thoughtfulness. On top of that, well, he was hot.
"Gabe," I called, hearing the tremor in my voice.
He turned back, concerned. "Yeah, Snowflake?"
"Thank you." I looked down, unsure.
My feelings for him were new, and a part of me wished I could go back to just being his best friend.
He walked around the bed to where I stood and gripped my tee-shirt, which used to be his in his hand, making a fist and pulling me to him.
He lifted my chin with a finger, but I kept my eyes down, focusing on his masculine hands that were big, but not too big.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I nodded, unable to understand why tears stung my eyes.
He pulled me into his arms, and I reciprocated with a fervor I didn't know I possessed.
Tucking my face in his neck, I held on as though my life depended on it.
We stayed that way until I heard snickering from the doorway.
"Professor Pops wanted me to tell you both to come down for breakfast."
It was Bart. He stood there, looking super uncomfortable.
I cleared my throat.
Gabe whispered, "Never, Snowflake." Gave me a pointed look.
My heart leaped into my throat.
Maybe last night's words and the way he'd held me hadn't been dreams.
"Promise?" I examined his face, his eyes, to see if he was serious.
In answer, he kissed my cheek, and my whole body melted like butter. "Promise."
"Hurry up," Bart said and disappeared.
Gabe squeezed my hand before exiting my bedroom.
And I sighed.
***
After handling the necessities - change of clothes, brushing my teeth and hair, and a bathroom break - I ran downstairs.
All the guys were seated around the kitchen island and at the table. I couldn't help but smile. Having the kitchen bursting with delicious smells, and most of my favorite people filled me with total happiness.
"Hi," I said, sitting on the oak dining chair next to Dorian.
The guys were piling their plates with waffles, eggs, and more eggs, and cantaloupe, and strawberries.
Taking a dish, I scooped some of the fruit onto it.
Professor Pops came over and plopped a waffle onto my plate. I looked up. Grateful he'd done so much.
"Thanks, Professor, but I'm a vegan. No eggs or milk for me." I grimaced, feeling bad, but I couldn't bring myself to eat anything meat or meat-related.
I picked up the waffle, but Professor placed a hand over mine and patted.
"I know all about it," he said. "These waffles were made without eggs, and I used almond milk instead of regular."
His gray eyes twinkled like he'd lived a thousand lives and knew everything about everything.
"Oh," I said, setting it back on my plate happily.
Neither my dad nor my stepmother would've been so thoughtful.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
The notion that he'd come over and cooked for me was incredible and another testament to the reasons I adored him and his sons.
They were extraordinarily good, decent men because that's the example Professor Pops set for them. I had to wonder how he and the guys had gotten in and where all the food came from.
My refrigerator held yogurt, apples, raw almonds, and orange juice, and I had some vegan, whole-wheat pasta, and tomato sauce in the pantry, but that was about it.
I wasn't going to ask him, though.
That would've been rude.
Besides, I was too busy stuffing my face with fruit covered waffles.
Gabe sat at the island, his back to me, so I didn't get a chance to talk to him during breakfast.
There'd been a lot of grunting and chewing going on after Sebastian uttered a quick prayer, but not much else.
The food was divine.
Salvatore and Bart had apologized, clearing the air.
Afterward, I helped Professor Pops clean up the kitchen. When it was just the two of us in the kitchen, Professor Pops filled the large sink with hot water and dish soap.
A perfectly good stainless-steel dishwasher had been installed next to the sink, but he wanted to hand wash the dishes.
"You know, we could throw these in there." I pointed at the dishwasher.
"True, but where's the fun in that?" He wriggled his eyebrows, and I giggled.
Pops handed me a plate.
I dried it and placed it in the cupboard.
"Your sixteenth birthday is in two months," he said out of the blue.
"It is," I agreed, curious about where he was going with his question.
"Have you made any plans yet?"
- Writer
