Hope for the Hopeless

That’s one day crossed out from my debt, and 27 days to go. I can’t believe I’m still going to go through with this. It was summer, yet I was getting up at 5 in the morning to work for this arrogant prick named Niall.

I could barely keep my eyes open while I was on my way to his house, and I was almost about to sleep on his doorstep. After about 30 knocks on his damn door, he finally came out and let me in. But of course, first thing’s first for him, he had to give me the lecture about having a door bell and actually using it. “I like to keep it classic.” I simply stated.

“Whatever.” He waved his hand to dismiss the subject. “Make me pancakes for breakfast.”
If there was one thing that I was actually really bad at, it was being in the kitchen and cooking. “I-I can’t c-cook.” I stuttered.

Niall looked at me amusedly. “Then now’s probably a good time to learn.”

I could’ve sworn I imagined myself smacking his face with a skillet. But that wouldn’t really help me with my current problem. The chances of me burning down his house were a ninety-eight percent out of a hundred. But instead of wasting time thinking about whether I was going to cause a fire in his kitchen or not, I decided to get started regardless of my lack of knowledge in firing up a stove and mixing edible stuff.

Niall came down just in time. I’d already finished making his pancakes, although it looked sort of depressing. He just stared at me as I set the plateful of in front of him. “What are these?”
“Uh, it’s the pancakes that you asked for.”

He grabbed a fork and stabbed one before lifting it up near his face. “You call these pancakes?”
“Look, I’m sorry okay? I already told you, I don’t know how to cook.” I apologized. My energy was almost drained out from trying to keep his house from getting burned and making his food edible enough.

He must have noticed that I looked too tired to even argue with him, since he got up from his seat and started working with the pancake mix, or what was left of it and the eggs. “Come here.” He commanded. And I quickly moved next to him. I figured that he actually had skills in the kitchen, since he effortlessly cracked the eggs and it went straight into the bowl. If that was me, it would’ve gone straight to the floor. “Stand here.” He said, pulling me into the small space in front of him. I felt my face burn bright red as Niall moved behind me. He was standing pretty close that I could actually feel him breathing against my hair.

“Tilt the bowl like this, so you can stir it properly.” His voice snapped me back, and with a swift move, he took my hand that now held the whisk and started moving it in circles.

Awkwardness started to fill the atmosphere and it almost got spontaneously combusting. I just wanted to dig a hole on the ground and crawl inside it.

Niall cleared his throat. “You can pour it in now.”

I looked at him hesitantly. “Uh, I might spill it.”

He grunted. “C’mere.” He guided my hand while I poured the pancake mix into the warmed up pan. I felt my hands starting to shake involuntarily. “Stop shaking or it’ll spill.” He whispered. I had no idea why he did that, but I shrugged it off as I tried to calm myself down. Maybe I was just getting an anxiety attack since the little devil was standing too close to me.

After a while, we finished and he finally got to eat his pancakes. I, on the other hand, was totally drained. Who would have thought cooking would be that hard? It was only a matter of time before my eyes automatically shut and I drifted off to a shallow slumber at the living room couch; although I was shortly awaken by a tap on my shoulder.

“Go sleep upstairs.” He said. This time, he didn’t even sound rude. But I ignored him and droned back to my nap. I was just too tired to pay attention to anything else.

I woke up about an hour and half after, but I wasn’t in the living room anymore. I was tucked under the covers of a bed, a really familiar one. This got me jumping out of the mattress. Shit. I fell asleep, Niall’s probably going to eat me out alive again.

I looked around for any signs of him but there was none. When I actually thought I was safe, the blonde devil suddenly came out of nowhere and poked my sides, making me jump and shriek in shock. Niall actually started laughing so hard, his cheeks went red like tomatoes. “Okay, I think you’ve had enough fun for today.” I sighed, dropping down the bed.

“Sorry,” he snorted. “I…just…couldn’t help…it” he managed to say in between his laughter. To be honest, his laugh was quite contagious. I couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

When he’d already calmed himself down, Niall sat on the empty space in mattress next to me. “You fell asleep.” He said.

“I know, I’m sorry, I was really—”

“It’s fine.” He cut me off; a small genuine smile appeared on his lips. “You felt like a stick when I carried you here.” He chuckled.

Oh wow, was that supposed to be an offensive remark? He must have noticed the annoyance in my face since quickly said that it was actually a compliment.

“I actually meant that you weren’t heavy! You’re fit…or something!” he defended.

“Gee, thanks.” I breathed in deep, then out. “You’re acting pretty weird today.” My eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” he asked, looked befuddled.

“Nothing, it’s just—you seem different today.”

He just stared at me with his piercing blue eyes for a while and said, “I’ve always been like this.”

“No, you’re not. You seem a lot…nicer.”