I quietly stumbled out of my bedroom, careful to make sure Reese stayed captive. Bree was still fast asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. I chuckled before beginning to make some breakfast.
After about a half hour I heard Bree mumble from the sofa, "I smell waffles."
"That would be correct." I heard the ruffling of sheets and then Bree was walking into the kitchen, eyes still blinking the sleep from them. Her hair was mussed up from sleeping, which I found to be quiet adorable, "Good morning Bree."
"Hey," She looked at me and smiled, "I haven't had waffles in forever. Creeves feels I should keep my weight low. He doesn't have to worry as much, being the meth addict he is." She shook her head. The bruise on her left cheek was still extremely noticeable, only now turning to a sickly black and green. Every time I looked at her and saw that bruise my jaw clamped in anger, "So I'm guessing you want one?"
"Of course." She took a seat at the kitchen table while I got two plates of waffles, setting at the table in front of Bree then another chair: my chair.
It was quiet at first, except for forks scrapping on the plates and the dull sound of chewing. I had a question searing in my mind but I felt I shouldn't ask at all. Then...it just kind of spurted out of me, "How'd he give you that bruise?"
I immediatly regretted asking when she gave me a terrible expression. But she sighed and said, "A music box I just got in the mail this weekend from Kelly. Creeves picked it up and chucked it at me."
"Ouch," I felt anger heating inside me from knowing someone would dare hurt her. She shrugged, "It didn't break the box though. But I'm sure by now he's smashed it with a hammer," She looked sadly at her waffles, "And it played such a sweet tune too." I found it strange how she didn't mind the bruise, but the fact of the box being broken. The atmosphere was uncomfortable, so I decided to try and end it, "So what do you want to do Bree?"
She shrugged, only to laugh, "Do you still have your ps3?"
"Yes I do actually. Grand Theft Auto 4?" I grinned.
"Naturally. I'm kind of in the need to snipe people's heads off." We both laughed, and memories from awhile ago came crashing back. The both of us sitting in my basement in the winter. I taught her how to play GTA4, but that might not have been the best idea. But it made her distracted so I got the chance to stare. We even sat pretty close, my knee settling on hers. She never moved; was that a sign?
I snapped out of my flashback to see the same scene: Bree sitting beside me shooting and stealing cars, "Just like old times right?" I asked, trying to be louder than the gunshots from the game. She gave me a look, "You have no idea."
I cocked my head to the side in confusion, but didn't question further.
Bree soon got all her rage out and we decided to simply watch t.v. Her nose crinkled in disgust, "Soap operas? No no no change the channel." I looked at the remote in my hands then back at her, "No."
"No? Why no?"
"Because," I sniffed. Bree glared at me and leaned over to get it, but I moved my hand away, "Try and get it," I teased.
"Pat, what the heck?" She lunged over to reach for the remote, but I held it further away.. As she tried to grab the remote, I was thinking about her body leaned on mine. "C'mon Pat," She whined. I decided to joke, "This seems more than friends Bree. Creeves is going to get me."
She shook her head, "I just want the damn remote," She said this with the grin she always gives when she's lying. I grinned back, "I don't believe that for one minute."
"Well you should." But then her hand was around mine, prying it from the remote. She shot up from the sofa laughing, "Hah! I got the remote." She danced around with glee for a bit, until I got off the couch as well, "Give me the remote Bree," I held my hand open, expecting her to place it in my open palm.
"Oh please," She gauffed, only to shove the remote in the back pocket of my pants she wore, "Then come and get it." Jeez does she want me to touch her butt? "Are you trying to get my hand on your butt?"
She covered her mouth with shock, "Why would I ever want that?" She stuck her tongue out and sat in the recliner not too far away. I stood in front of Bree and grabbed her wrists, trying to pull her off the chair, but she didn't move, "C'mon Pat. I don't weight that much." I groaned and released her small wrists, walking away from her, "Did you give up Mr. Pat?" She teased.
I remained silent, my plan already being concocted. I snuck back over. "Pat?" She was wondering now where I went, with a hint of hysteria in her voice.
I pounced, managing to gasp, "Gotcha!" reaching over the seat to grab her shoulders. Bree screamed and jumped like she always did when young and got scared. Only now she started sobbing. At first I thought she was joking, "Bree? Hey, I'm sorry." I crouched down so I was looking at her face, "Hey hey hey," I took hold of her hands and moved them so I could see her face, her eyes, "Bree, I'm sorry. I had no idea you'd react like that."
"No no, I'm overreacting," She gave a slight smile through the tears, "It's just with Creeves and what's happened and all-"
"I still shouldn't have done it," I looked away from the blue of her eyes, "I should've known better." I stared now at her hands in mine; she didn't move hers from mine yet, so I took the time to appreciate the warmth and softness of them. I peered at her face to see she had stopped crying, but the tears still glistened on her cheeks. The bruise was concealed by her side bang of hair. I pushed the bang out of the way and leaned in for a closer look, "Are you sure there are no bones broken?" I noticed how close our faces were then, but I was focused on something more important. Bree seemed to try and look away from my stare, the unbruised cheek turning red, "I don't think anything's wrong with it," She murmured.
"Oh, I care to differ Bree." I placed my palm gently on her cheek, noticing she didn't flinch. She did stop breathing though. It took me a moment to realize I wasn't breathing either. I took a deep breath through my nose...then wish I hadn't when I basically breathed in Bree's lemon scent, "Bree," I breathed, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" She gave me a confused expression again, still not breathing. Then I answered her by closing the space between our lips.