Page 19 of Size Queen
I lock the bathroom door behind me after I finally find solitude. I just need a moment alone to compose myself. I’m not sure why the idea of staying longer scares me, but before the morning ended, I would have my reasons figured out.
I stayin the bathroom for a while, playing on my phone to distract myself and to avoid making a decision on what I’m going to do with my Saturday. My decision regarding the morning, it seems, is being decided for me, though.
The smell of breakfast being made in the kitchen wafts through the whole house. Eventually, the aroma is enough to entice me out of the bathroom and face the potential awkwardness.
“So, what’s going on up in here?” I ask stupidly.
“Hey!” Damon says from the stove. “I’m making coffee and breakfast. Do you want any?”
“Uh… sure,” I answer.
I consider joining him in the kitchen to assist, but I opt to sit at his kitchen table instead. I have to admit, I’m somewhat in awe of a man who knows how to cook. None of my boyfriends ever went into the kitchen—even with my “friends with benefits”—the best they could ever do was pick up food that was already made or ask me to make them something.
“How do you like your eggs?” Damon asks while pouring the coffee.
“I’m fine with however you’re having them.”
“Scrambled it is. Do you take anything in your coffee?”
“Just sugar. I can make my coffee,” I say, suddenly feeling guilty. “What am I doing just sitting here?”
Just being physically close to Damon is turning out to be a mistake. As I add the appropriate amount of sugar to my mug, I can feel his warmth emanating onto me, and he isn’t even touching me. But us standing inches apart is like two magnets only inches apart—the gravitational pull is strong.
“You’re not a vegetarian or vegan, are you?” Damon asks. “I mean, I guess if you’re eating eggs, you ain’t a vegan, right?”
“I eat meat,” I laugh.
I stir the sugar around in my cup of black coffee, fully aware that if I back my ass up, I’d probably feel Damon’s dick through his loose shorts. I decide to behave.
Not long after returning to the table, Damon joins me with breakfast: eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and hash browns. My mouth waters before the food even touches my fork.
Breakfast is mostly quiet, save for a few nonverbal exclamations of enjoyment over the quality of the meal from time to time. Damon finally decides to speak once he’s cleared his plate of meat and eggs.
“I don’t know about you,” he says, toying with his half-eaten toast, “but I wouldn’t mind having a repeat of last night some other time.”
“I’d like that,” I say, sure I’m blushing. “I’m so glad we ran into each other last night like that.”
“Yeah, no kidding. It’s almost like fate brought us together.”
“Do you believe in fate?”
“I believe in a lot of things,” he replies. “You might think it’s strange, what with me owning a bike shop and all, but I believe that two people can be connected.”
“Do you mean like soul mates?”
“I was trying to avoid that term, but yes,” he laughs.
“I believe that, too,” I say honestly. “My problem is knowing where to look.”
Now, we each aimlessly play with the remainder of our food, dancing around a flame that is growing higher by the minute.
“So, what else do you believe?” I ask in an attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“I believe in an eye for an eye,” he says almost ominously.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. If someone attacks you, I feel it is your right to attack back,” he explains. “I’m a pacifist, for the most part, until you come after me unprovoked. What do you when someone wrongs you horribly, Noelle?”