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Ingrid was an early riser and weekends were no exception. At the crack of dawn, she got up and threw on her tracksuit. Sylvain, on the other hand, rolled over onto her side of the bed, face-planted on her pillow and started snoring again. Ingrid laughed and kissed his temple before grabbing her phone and ear buds.
The air was as brisk as she’d expected. Her breath fogged the air as set out on her usual route around the neighbourhood. The cold drove her back at the apartment within an hour, feeling refreshed, awake and starving. While riding the lift she inventoried the contents of the fridge to the beat of the music in her ears, wondering if she could surprise Sylvain with breakfast in bed.
But when she opened the door of the apartment, Ingrid discovered the scent of pancakes wafting in the air. Smiling, she pulled the buds from her ears and went to the kitchen. Sylvain stood at the stove in his pyjama pants and glasses: a thing he did on purpose. He knew he was impossible to resist when wearing his glasses.
“Sweet or savoury?” he asked without looking up from the pancake he was flipping.
“Both,” Ingrid said.
Sylvain threw her a grin. “Lucky I know you so well.”
He abandoned the frying pan for the oven and opened the door to reveal a tray of maple bacon. Ingrid slung an arm around his waist and stood on her toes to kiss him. He tasted like coffee—an early start, even for him.
“Glad you remembered,” she said.
He peered at her over his glasses. “What do you mean?”
“A proper cleaning day breakfast.”
There was a rush of air as Sylvain closed the oven door. He pressed his lips together, an obvious and exaggerated show of thinking.
“But we…” he began.
“No.”
“I need …”
Ingrid rolled her eyes. “What is it about housework that you hate so much?”
“Ingrid,” Sylvain said as he returned to the frying pan. “Ingrid, darling. You are dating a very, very lazy person.”
“You’re not lazy. I’ve seen you work on your book until after midnight.”
“That’s writing. It’s different. It’s my job.”
Ingrid laughed as she filled up a glass with water from the tap. “It’s really not.”
“Ingrid.”
She raised her eyebrows at him as she leaned against the bench. He gestured up and down at her outfit.
“You,” he said. “Not lazy. Me.”
He pointed at his own outfit, or rather lack thereof. Ingrid took her time admiring it.
“Lazy,” he said. “Very lazy. Doesn’t housework.”
“You spend more time in the apartment,” Ingrid said, lifting her eyes back to his face and her cup to her lips. “You’ll help me clean it.”
Sylvain heaved a sigh, then turned off the stovetop and the oven. After adjusting his glasses on his nose, he crossed the kitchen and planted both hands on the bench, trapping Ingrid between his arms.
“I don’t get to see you all week and then you tell me we have to spend our precious time together cleaning?” he said, turning on the puppy dog eyes.
“Yes,” Ingrid replied.
In the blink of an eye, Sylvain changed tactics. He pulled the cup from her hand and put it down before kissing Ingrid, slowly, thoroughly.
“If you can clean today, I didn’t do my job properly last night,” he whispered.
“Sylvain!” Ingrid laughed as she pushed him away. He grinned.
“I demand a second chance,” he said.
“Denied.”
“I made you pancakes and bacon.”
“So what? I made you noodles last night.”
“Maple bacon, Ingrid.”
Ingrid crossed her arms and regarded him for a long moment.
“Okay,” she said. “Compromise. Pancakes and bacon while we watch a movie. Then we clean.”
Sylvain crossed his arms and tried to look serious.
“Snuggling in between?” he said.
“While we watch the movie.”
“Which will be two hours long at least.”
Ingrid snorted as she tried to hold in her laugh. “Sure. But you do the laundry.”
Sylvain sighed and shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms Galatea.”
“Is that a yes or no?”
“Of course it’s a yes. Two hours is plenty of time to distract you.”
“I dare you to try.”
Sylvain’s eyes lit up and Ingrid knew immediately that she was in trouble.
“Oh don’t you fear,” he said. “I will. I most definitely will.”