Usually, he’s the early bird, but it’s nice waking up to him still in the bed. I decide to let him catch up on some much-needed rest, so I tiptoe quietly across the room through the bathroom, and into the closet, then slide on a silk robe before sneaking out of the bedroom and closing the door silently behind me.
I’m so thankful it’s Saturday and we can relax. It’s my turn to explore the condo and see what I can drum up for breakfast for Drew. Little does he know I can’t cook to save my life, but I can bake the hell out of some pastries. Cookies, cakes, muffins, rolls; you name it, I can make it.
On the way to the kitchen, I stop by the office and just take it all in again. I know I originally didn’t want my bookshelves here, but now, seeing them anchoring both sides of the chair, I can’t help but feel happy. I was hesitant to have Drew move the bookshelves from the apartment, but when he told me it was because he wanted a piece of me here, my heart melted. It was such a touching gesture and I’m glad he didn’t let the mover listen to me.
Next, I peek inside both guest rooms. They are each complete with a bed, dresser, and a small chair in each corner. Each room is set up exactly the same, just a different style of bed and color scheme. Each room is tasteful and beautiful in its design.
The laundry room has a state-of-the-art washing machine and dryer that I’ll definitely need an instructional manual to use, and the storage this place has is insane. Built-in cabinets fill the entire perimeter of the laundry room. There’s a small utility sink in the corner and even a built-in ironing board. I’ve never seen a place have everything one would need. My time spent in shitty laundromats has definitely made me appreciate having a laundry room in the condo.
Finally making it to the kitchen, I pull up Pinterest on my phone and find a recipe for homemade blueberry muffins with a crumble topping. Fortunately, all the ingredients I need are already here. I get to work pulling the mixer from the pantry and washing the fresh blueberries, allowing them to dry on a kitchen towel. I mix the dry ingredients in one bowl, including the flour, sugar, and baking powder, and the liquid ingredients in another.
I find a muffin pan in the cabinet next to the stove and I pre-heat the oven, greasing the muffin tins before I mix everything together. I love spending time in the kitchen and hope to learn to cook more meals. Warming up cans of soup and Easy Mac is getting old, but I can’t complain, it’s kept me alive since moving to New York City. Funny how you learn to appreciate what other people snub their noses at.
Finally mixing all the ingredients together, I then fold in the blueberries. I spoon the batter into the muffin tins and mix up the crumble topping, sprinkling the brown sugar and butter mixture on top of the batter before I slide the tins into the oven and set a timer.
Coffee sounds amazing, but I stare in bewilderment at the large machine that looks like it belongs in a coffee shop and not in a private residence. There’s no way in hell I can figure out how to make coffee with that contraption. I make a mental note to save some money to buy one of those easy drip coffee makers.
“Smells good.” A groggy voice startles me and I yelp in fear.
“Jesus Christ!” I turn around, my hands flying to my chest to cover my pounding heart.
A low, rumbling laugh fills the space and I find Aaron’s light brown messy hair and blue eyes peeking over the back of the sectional couch.
“Sorry to scare you,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He pushes himself up to a sitting position.
“I didn’t know you were here,” I respond, feeling oddly self-conscious. Especially after realizing I’m in a short, silk robe with nothing on underneath it. I tighten the belt and hold the top closed with my hand. And I obviously didn’t look around the condo hard enough to notice the sleeping man on our couch.
“Obviously,” he responds with a chuckle. “You know you talk to yourself, right?” he asks, joining me in the kitchen. “I thought I was dreaming because I kept hearing a girl talking and then I realized it was you talking to yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “You and your brother have both pointed that out to me.”
“It’s kinda cute,” he says, tapping the tip of my nose with his forefinger as he walks past me. He’s shirtless and built exactly like Drew. Broad shoulders and a muscular chest that narrows down to a taut waist. I try not to look, but dear God, you can’t not look at him. His jeans are slung low around his hips and his perfect V is on display.
“Coffee?” he asks, running his hand through his mussed-up hair.
“Machine is right there.” I point to the industrial-sized beast. “But I have no idea how to use it.”
“I’ll figure it out,” he mumbles and starts twisting knobs and pushing buttons.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him and scurry down the hall to the bedroom to throw some clothes on. If I had known Aaron stayed here, I would have been dressed more appropriately.
I put back on the same clothes I was wearing last night and pull my messy, wavy hair into a bun. Drew is still sound asleep, and I rejoin Aaron back in the kitchen. Of course, he figured out how to work the coffee machine. To my utter relief, there are two cups of piping hot coffee on the island, right next to where he’s sitting on the counter. Like literally on the counter. His denim-clad legs hang off the edge of the island with his bare feet dangling.
I do my best to ignore his Adonis form and reach for my cup of coffee.
“Drew and I stayed up late talking,” Aaron says, picking up his own cup of coffee. “He told me to crash in the guest room, but I didn’t quite make it there,” he says, blowing the steam off his coffee.
“It’s your brother’s place. I’m sure you’re welcome here anytime,” I tell him with a shrug, “and thank you for the coffee.” I raise the glass in a show of thanks before taking a long, soothing drink. Nothing beats the feeling of caffeine in the morning.
He nods just as the timer goes off for the muffins. “Muffins are done,” I tell him, setting down my coffee before I pull the hot potholders from the drawer. I open the oven and pull the warm muffins from the rack and slide them on top of the stove to cool for a minute.
“I want one while they’re warm,” he says, sliding off the island. He pulls some small plates out of the cupboard and offers me one. “Is there butter in the fridge?” he asks, yanking the huge stainless-steel door open.
“Middle shelf,” I answer, dumping the muffins carefully from the pan onto another kitchen towel. I arrange them carefully so they can cool.
Aaron grabs two of them and splits them open, slathering each side with a ton of butter. He pushes himself back up onto the kitchen island and takes a giant bite. “There’s nothing better than fresh muffins,” he says around a mouthful. He looks like a little kid, all messy and talking around a mouth full of food. I can’t help but laugh.
“Dude!” Drew’s booming voice pulls my attention away from Aaron. I turn to see him sauntering down the hallway in a pair of joggers and tight grey t-shirt. “Put a damn shirt on.”
Aaron smiles and winks at me. “Nah, I’m good, man.”
When Drew is close enough, he smacks Aaron upside the head. “And get off my kitchen island.”
I’m laughing again. These two. Watching their dynamic shift so quickly the last few days has been a rollercoaster, but it makes me happy.