“If you’re asking if I want you to come over, the answer is yes. If you’re asking if you can come over, the answer is no. I have to shower and get cleaned up. You would be a... distraction.”
A wicked grin begins to spread across Jace’s gorgeous face as he leans in and whispers in my ear. “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”
Smacking him against his still-bare chest, Jace chuckles, sending a shiver up my spine.
“I bet you’d like that.”
“So would you,” he says as he kisses the side of my neck before stepping back, almost bumping into the cameraman who snuck up on us. Not that we weren’t being watched or filmed already. Hell, where we’re standing, there are at least three cameras that I know of that have captured our entire exchange.
“Right on time,”I remark as I open the door for Drake.
“It smells great in here. Is that bacon?” he asks, sniffing the air, a smile forming on his face.
“I heard it was your favorite.”
“I’m not sure what they put in the file they gave you, but I’m starting to think they’re pretty damn good at what they do. Last night I was rewarded with chocolate cake with a fudge filling, and tonight I get bacon. I can’t wait to see what I’m fed the rest of the week. At least I’ll be fat and happy if I’m voted off on Sunday.”
Drake is laughing by the time he finishes, and I join him just as the timer for the oven goes off.
“Sit. Relax. Food’s almost ready.”
Making my way into the kitchen, I’m very aware that Drake is following me, or rather, the scent of the bacon. He tries to reach around me and steal a piece, but I smack his hand away.
“You have to wait until everything is done.”
“Are we having breakfast?”
“Yup,” I reply, popping the P for emphasis as I pull the frittata from the oven. I hope it tastes as great as it smells. As far as looks go, it’s rather boring. “Wanna help me out?”
“At your service. What can I do?”
I put Drake to work mixing mimosa’s while I pop bread in the toaster and begin plating our food. After I’m satisfied with how it looks, I present him with a plate and take the seat across from him.
“To breakfast for dinner,” Drake cheers, raising his glass and clinking it against mine. “My favorite meal of the day.”
“I’m not going to lie. This feels wrong. I’ve never had breakfast this late before. I mean, in college, breakfast was always my first meal, but I usually didn’t wake up until close to noon, so we pretended to be rich socialites and called it brunch even though it was normally cereal or Pop-Tarts.”
“Brunch is good too,” he states, shoving a bite of frittata in his mouth while I wait in anticipation of his reaction.
“Well?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
“It’s good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. You really can’t mess up breakfast.”
True but then again, I’m me and I can burn anything. Speaking of... shit!
Dropping my fork, I rush over to the toaster and press the little button on the front, popping the toast. I murdered it. Not even a tub of butter could make it edible it’s so charred.
“I hope you like your toast well done,” I state, picking up a piece and showing him the black brick.
“Um... I think I’ll pass,” he replies, covering his mouth with his hand as a chuckle escapes.
“And you said you can’t mess up breakfast,” I mutter as I drop both pieces of toast in the trash and slide back into my seat.
“It was just toast. It’s not like you burnt everything.”