KITCHEN

My body feels heavy as I wake up the next day. Like very morning since my parents died, I'm awake before the sun, padding into my bathroom as the world is still.

I cut directly to the shower, picking the crust from my eyes with each step. The knob is cold under my hand, but I twist it on anyway, waiting as it sputters to life. 

The water is overly warm but I sigh in relief as it washes over my face. I collect some in my mouth, swashing it around and let it spill down my chin. I tilt my head back and let the hot water warm my chest. Maybe the heat of it could help the heaviness I still felt there.

I don't know how much time has past when I turn the water off. The bathroom has turned into a fog, even the windows are misted over. Unbothered, I shuffle out, keeping my towel close to my chest. The air was freezing outside my bathroom walls, and goosebumps appear on my skin within seconds. 

I hastily change, pulling on a thick sweater and my comfiest pair of blue jeans. My books from school are scattered and I take my time packing them into my bag. The house is still silent, my bodyguards surely still asleep.

I brave exiting my room, walking down the corridor and into the kitchen. I had plenty of time until I'd have to leave for school. I open the fridge, gathering what I needed.

Before anything else occurred today, I needed coffee.

I packed a few things whilst the kettle boiled. I told myself I'd remember to do the basics. Through my pain, would remember to eat. Wash. Sleep. No matter how bad it got.

I was stirring my coffee when I heard a door open. Chris appeared just as I jumped to sit on the counter.

"Morning," he mutters, scratching the back of his head. I eye the shirtless midriff, and look down at my coffee. "Morning." I hear him approach, feel his presence next to me.

He doesn't day anything as he leans over me, and grabs the kettle. And I don't look at him as I sip my coffee. He pours the hot water into his mug, right in-front of me.

"How are you feeling today?" He asks. I feeling look at him, and ignore the sheer size. I ignore the long, tones torso. I ignore the sharp V-line poking out of his grey sweatpants. And I most certainly ignore the veins in his arms.

"Fine." God this coffee tasted immaculate. 

He stands back from me, and sips his coffee. "You look better today. More alive." 

"I think the fact that I'm a walking, talking human being indicates that I'm alive." 

"You'd think that," he huffs a laugh, "Your more like a walking human corpse these days."

I give him the most blanket expression I can muster, "Aren't you full of compliments this morning." 

He shrugs, "I said you looked better today?"

"How sweet."

He grins and takes two steps towards me. I try not to flinch as he braces his hands each side of my thighs, "I think you'll find I'm very, very sweet Andrea." 

I take a long, purposeful sip of my coffee, but don't miss his glance at my neck line, which is mere inches from him mouth. 

When I'm done I settle it next to me, and  tap his cheek with my other hand, "Good for you Chris," I say, sliding off the counter. He pushes back to give me space, but still stands over me. I look at him, my face blank, "Keys?" I ask, extending my hand.

"I can drive you," he says. But I shake my head, "Trying to be normal, remember? I need to do things on my own." 

He stares at me, and I stare back. 

Eventually he turns away, and grabs the keys of the hanging rack near the kitchen light. I'm so enthralled I almost yank them out of his hand, but he holds it just out of reach.

"If anything happens today Andrea, anything. You call with your burner phone. Okay?" I nod my head and reach for the keys.

He pulls them out of reach again, "Andrea," he practically whines. I gaze at his face, the harsh, structured lines and full lips. A true supermodel if life had been different for him. 

"I promise," I whisper, holding out my hand. His jaw clenches as he drops them in my hand.

He takes a step away, eyes roaming all over my body, hovering at my lips. He cuts to my eyes, clenching his fists, "Have a good day." 

-----

The truck roars to life. Excited, I run my hand over the steering wheel. The leather is smooth against my frozen hands, but a feeling calm washes over me. 

I push down the handbrake, pull the stick into reverse, and step on the pedal. The truck jolts back as I put too much pressure. I ease up, and whip the car around, out of our small driveway.

The way to the High school is one long road, with a dense, green forest on both sides. The trees constantly look wet. But that was probably because the snow and ice had finally melted. Or so John told me the first day we landed.

I still couldn't understand how it was still so cold. I look down frim the road, scanning the buttons for the heater. I turn the knob, blasting the heater as high as it can go. 

I sigh in relief as the car automatically heats up, and look back to the road - 

and slam on the breaks as a figure ploughs onto the main lane from the forest. The trucks skids, sliding against the frozen tar. It lurches towards the figure, stopping just short of his body.

"Holy fuck." I breathe, my chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm. Will, smiles, standing inches from the front of the truck, and jogs to the passenger side of the car.

He looks at me through the glass, indicating. I wind the window down slowly.

"Mind giving me a ride?" He asks, leaning on the open frame. I gape at him, nodding my head. He reaches into the car, unlocking the door manually and pops it open.

The truck jolts as he hops inside.

He nestles into the seat, putting his seatbelt on. He looks at me when the car doesn't move.

"Uh Andrea. We're kind of in the middle of the main road." 

I blink. 

"Where the fuck did you come from?" I ask. Not taking my foot off the break. Will looks over his shoulder, "There's a car coming Andrea." I look into the rear view and take my foot off the break. One car on deserted road.

We drive for about one full minute before I explode again. "Are you going to tell my why you just appeared in the middle of the road?" I can feel his eyes on me but I keep my gaze forward.

"Morning jog." 

I grip the steering wheel harder, "Morning. Jog?" 

"Yep. I do it every morning." I cut a look at him. "Do you usually run in jeans and a sweater." The same damn navy seater I'd seen him wear everyday. 

Not to mention, not one once of sweat was on his face.

He shrugs yet again, "I run to school." He says as if it explains anything. I go to argue just that, but we had pulled into the school car park, and Will had jumped out of the truck before it had even stopped moving.

He winks at me, those grey eyes sparkling in mischief, "Thanks for the ride gorgeous." Leaving me completely, and utterly, dumbfounded.