French

6

Where on God's great earth am I?!

I sit up and look around to find myself in a grey room with minimal decorations. I'm in a huge white bed.

Oh my goodness these sheets are soft. I think they're silk or something.

Then last night comes back to me. I smile, relaxing.

I stretch and rub my eyes. I wiggle uncomfortably, I'm still in last nights clothes. I'm so glad Atticus is a gentleman and didn't remove my clothes, even though I would have been more comfortable.

I venture out of the bedroom and walk down the passage which opens onto a modern open plan lounge and kitchen.

His house is lovely, modern, simple, clean. I look around for him and spot his sock clad feet hanging over the couch. I feel really bad that he slept on the couch while I got that ginormous bed.

I walk quietly into the kitchen trying not to wake him up. I turn the kettle on and open the pantry, I'm starving.

There's not a lot to work with but I spot a pancake mix. Perfect. I add the water, milk and egg that the recipe calls for and try to quietly cook them.

Seems it wasn't quiet enough as I see Atticus sit up and stretch. I try not to stare at his tanned chest but damn is it difficult.

He comes and sits on a stool at the counter, watching me cook.

"Hi." He says deeply. His morning voice is deep and husky, his hair is messy and his eyes slightly puffy. He looks amazing.

"Hey." I say with a smile. I quickly finish up the pancakes and make us both tea and sit next to Atticus.

"Thanks, you didn't have to." He says.

I shake my head. "For taking the bed while you had the couch."

He smiles. "That's okay." He looks me over once. "You look uncomfortable in those clothes, you can shower in my bathroom, I'll give you something to wear."

We finish eating and I go back to his room to shower, Atticus insisting on doing the breakfast dishes.

I quickly peal the dress off of me, instantly feeling better. I hop into the shower and scrub last night away. When I enter the bedroom again, Atticus has left a pile of clothes on the bed for me.

I pull on the t-shirt and pair of sweatpants Atticus left for me, both clearly Atticus's by the size. I'm not complaining though, they're super comfy and they smell just like him.

I quickly tidy up the bathroom and make the bed and just as I'm finishing up Atticus strolls in, freshly showered, his hair styled up, wearing black ripped jeans and a white t-shirt with a plaid flannel over. He looks damn fine, to be perfectly honest.

"Do you have any plans for today?" He asks me, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms.

"Sunday's are my off days but I normally go to this art market. I won't go today though."

"Why not?" He asks, "there's still time."

Uh, actually I sell art.." I say kind of shyly. "You have to get an early start though and it's a bit late now."

"You paint?" He asks, interested.

"Yeah, café settings mostly. I don't know, some people seem to like my stuff." I shrug.

"I'd love to see your paintings some time." He says genuinely sounding interested.

I smile at him. "Sure. What are your plans for today?" I ask.

"I was hoping to take you out for lunch maybe." He says, holding eye contact.

I nod. "I'd like to go home first though please, I can't go out in public in your clothes."

He smirks. "I wouldn't mind. You look great in them. Better than I do." He says before leaving the room, leaving my mind spinning and my cheeks warm.

"Thanks, this is it." We've just driven to my house for me to change before lunch.

I hop out. "Coming?" He quickly follows me into the building.

I feel a little self-conscious about him seeing my apartment after I've seen how amazing his is, but I force myself to be confident. I love my flat, it's perfect for me.

I leave him in my lounge and quickly change, putting on a blue and white striped sundress. I put some makeup on and brush my hair, trying to hurry so as not to make him wait.

I grab my bag and spritz on some perfume before I leave the room. 

"Ready to go? Oh no." I groan. Atticus is sitting on my couch going through my sketchbook.

He looks up with a smirk on his face. "I don't know why you're embarrassed, these are great. Really." He reassures.

I smile looking down. "Thanks." I mumble. Good thing I hadn't drawn him like I had been tempted to. That would have been a whole new level of embarrassing.

 "Please. Let's go!" I huff when he carries on looking through my book.

"Fine." He says, laughing as he stands up. "Nice place by the way. I like it."

"Not quite as nice as yours though." I joke.

He frowns slightly. "Mine may be nice, but it's not a home. This is a home. Not my place."

"Why the frown? Your flat is gorgeous." I say lightly as we step into the elevator.

He stares at the doors as I look at him. "It hasn't been lived in, you know? I don't know." He shrugs.

I decide to drop the subject. He doesn't seem to like talking about his possessions- his car or flat. 

"So where are we going?" I ask once we start driving again.

He smirks. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"I actually like surprises, despite what you might think." I say once I see the look on his face when I say I like surprises.

"Well in that case, I think you're going to love my surprise." He says smiling at me, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners.

I don't reply, because I'm just sitting there staring at him, thinking how breathtakingly beautiful his smile is.