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Zoë is awoken by the rustle of sheets next to her, sunlight filtering in and making her scrunch her eyes closed. Pulling the duvet higher, she rolls around onto her other side, burrowing deeper into the soft warmth of the bed.
She can hear Senne going through his clothes, hangers clinking against each other, and she grunts. There is too much noise, too many sounds taking her further away from the dreamless sleep she wants to return to.
There is a soft laugh. “Morning, sleepyhead. I’m gonna make breakfast, come down whenever you’re ready,” he says as the door clicks open. “Would you rather have oatmeal with chia seeds and raspberries, or avocado on toast?”
She feels around blindly for a pillow and chucks it in the general direction of the door. It lands with a soft thud and she can hear Senne laugh from somewhere on the stairs.
Now the silence has returned, she lets out a content sight, nuzzling into the pillow. It smells like laundry detergent, fresh with a hint of something flowery. It doesn’t match Senne’s personality, but then again, she doubts he’s the one doing laundry in this household.
She doses off for a while, content like a cat in the sun, listening to the subdued sounds coming from the kitchen and the monotone drilling from one of Antwerp’s many construction sites. When she finally opens her eyes, the room is bathing in sunlight. Through the window, she can see dark clouds coming in. It feels like a metaphor.
The smell of pancakes hits her as she walks down the stairs and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. Truly a walking, talking cliché, she thinks to herself.
Senne shoots her a smile when she steps into the kitchen. “I take it you liked the bed?”
“I was just trying to avoid you for as long as possible.”
She can tell he’s biting back a smile as he shakes his head and turns his attention back to the stove. “Didn’t sound like it in your dreams.” He points the spatula at her. “Oh, Senne, I like you so much, you’re so hot!” he says in a high-pitched voice.
This time, Zoë does roll her eyes. “Shut up, I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“How would you know? You were asleep. I was the one listening to your love declarations all night.”
“Shut up,” she repeats, a smile threatening to form on her lips. “In your dreams.”
He looks at her, lifting an eyebrow. “I mean, yeah,” he grins bashfully. “Go sit down and help yourself. I didn’t know what you liked so I just put everything.”
He’s not exaggerating. A quick glance over the table tells Zoë there is powdered sugar, brown sugar, Nutella and three different kinds of jam. A bowl with fruit stands in the middle of it, and she spots raspberries and strawberries freshly washed in the sink.
“Do you do this for every girl you take home? Seems like a lot of work.” She takes the bowl with raspberries and strawberries and puts them on the table before sitting down.
“What if I told you it’s just you?” Senne replies as he transfers the last pancake onto the stack.
Their eyes meet, his challenging her to react, hers gauging his intentions.
This boy seems to know exactly how to get under her skin and she’s not quite sure of the sincerity of anything he says. Nonetheless, she has to admit that something’s changed between them. She finds herself anticipating his bold moves, enjoys the easy teasing and the way they tiptoe around each other. Too bad he’s still a fuckboy.
They eat breakfast in silence, stealing glances and hiding their smiles in their coffee mugs. Zoë texts Lisa to check if she’s awake and gets an affirmative reply within seconds. Something settles in the pit of her stomach, but she doesn’t allow herself to wonder why it feels so much like disappointment.
“Right. I should go now.” She slides her phone in her – Jana’s – bag.
“I can drop you off,” Senne offers, already standing up.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll take the tram.”
“Sure?”
She nods, looking at the dark clouds that shadow over the city. “Sure.”
He looks like he wants to argue her, but he walks over to the coat rack and hands her her coat. Their fingers brush and she ducks her head.
“Um. Thanks.” She gestures around her. “For the bed. And the breakfast.”
“Anytime.” He opens the door and leans against the frame. “We should do this again.”
She hums non-committedly. “Don’t count on it. Bye, Seppe.”
She catches his smile before she steps out into the hallway and walks to the lift.
“Bye, Zoë. Can’t wait to see you Monday,” he calls after her and she flips him off right as the lift door closes behind her.