I couldn't quite wipe that dreamy look off my face after Cayden left the café, or indeed for the rest of the shift. Even now, as I'm making my way up to his apartment, I'm sure the look is still in my eyes.
His door is open as usual, and the smell of Italian food is wafting out into the corridor, making my stomach growl loudly. I put my keys down quietly and take off my hoodie, revealing my white polo shirt sitting comfortably on my frame - I went home and changed before coming over. Well I couldn't turn up in my work clothes, could I?
Not that I've been able to figure out if we're going out or if we're just fuck buddies. Sometimes it seems like we're just fuck buddies. It's nearly all we do. But then sometimes he gets all nervous and offers to make dinner in his indescribably cute way of asking, like he's asking someone for a first date. He makes no sense. But I suppose I can live with that.
Pushing those thoughts from my head, I sneak up behind him in the kitchen where he's watching something on the stove carefully with a stupidly gorgeous look of concentration on his face. I slide my arms around his waist and press myself close against him. "Smells good," I grin, looking around him art what's cooking.
He jumps and looks at me with a slight laugh. "You're so noisy. I managed to hear you coming, and I never hear people coming in."
"You jumped," I smirk.
"Did not," he protests, and I laugh, reaching up and pecking him on the cheek.
"Of course not, babe." I look back at the pans. Carbonara. "My fave. You're a star." He grins in a way that says ‘I know, you don't need to tell me that'. After a few moments, that grin fades and he mutters something about what he still needs to put in it to himself and I bite back a giggle, moving his hands to his shoulders, "you're tense, Cay," I murmur, rubbing the knotted muscles beneath my hands.
"I just... I want things to be perfect," he mumbles and I have to stop myself from going "AWW" and bear hugging him. It's a tall order, but I manage it and smile, moving around to give him a firm kiss.
"It could be burnt to fuck and it would still be perfect," I grin, "just because you're here," I pause and laugh, "I'm now officially more cheesy than that sauce."
He smiles, "you wouldn't want my gorgeous food to go to waste though, would you?" his smile turns to a grin and I match it.
"Of course not. I say it could be burnt to fuck and still be perfect, but I would much prefer the promised amazingness."
"Well then, mister, sit your pretty ass down over there and pick a movie" He kisses before pulling away to get something to stir into the Carbonara and I laugh, turning to the rack of DVDs. Horrors, thrillers, stupid comedies and a couple of sci-fi. Well aren't you the macho man?
"You have a distinct lack of rom-coms here," I wail, looking at him through the kitchen door with a scowl. I'm trying very hard not to laugh. I'm not saying they're my favourite genre, but I do like them for a night in sometimes.
"Don't even get me started on rom-coms."
Then again, a horror would give me a perfect excuse to cuddle up to him while we watch it.
"Can't stand the things. It's always some sappy broad obsessing over a guy she's never gonna get with. Then the second she gives up and moves on, all of sudden the guy from before wants her. And then they just get together. What's even with that?" he turns to look at me with this irritable, but questioning expression on his face. If the rant wasn't making me giggle already, that look would have got me going.
"They're not that bad, surely?"
"Last time I watched one it sent me to sleep."
"Such a critic," I tut, pulling a horror from the rack and putting it by the DVD player, ready to watch.