Resentment(51)

I toss my phone onto my bed and grab a bottle of orange juice off my nightstand. I toss back a few aspirin and go into the living room.

I turn on the TV, looking for something good to watch, but I get through over 100 channels and don’t find anything.

I can’t believe there aren’t any mindless chick flicks on. That should be a crime...

Frustrated, I switch to the high definition channels, and before I can give up, I find my favorite movie’s opening scene.

I unfold the blanket at the edge of the couch and lay it over me, swooning over the movie, as if it’s my first time watching it.

Right at the part when the two leads meet for the first time, I hear someone unlocking the front door.

“Hey,” Dean says as he walks inside, but I don’t look over.

“Hey...” I turn up the volume, making it clear that we will not be talking today.

He must get the hint, because he laughs softly and I hear him walking into the kitchen. I hear him making all types of noise—getting out pots and pans, starting the blender, and opening and re-opening the fridge.

I consider muting the TV until he’s finished, but I’m fifteen minutes away from my favorite part of the movie and regardless of the fact that he helped me last night or not, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

The noises in the kitchen come to an end, and I smell the sweet smell of bread and soup. I still don’t turn around, though.

The next thing I hear is Dean walking behind me, down the hallway, and shutting his bathroom door. Then I hear the sound of water in the shower.

The aroma of the soup and bread infiltrates my senses with each second that passes, but I keep my attention glued to the TV.

Why is he home so early today?

Halfway through the movie, Dean comes out of the bathroom and returns to the kitchen. He makes a few more noises with pots, and the next thing I know, he’s placing two bowls of soup on the coffee table and sitting next to me.

“Temporary truce?” He asks, shirtless and letting water fall from his damp hair onto his chest.

“Temporary?”

“I’m sure within two hours we’ll hate each other again, but as a fellow human being, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten today, correct?”

I nod.

“So, a temporary truce, with soup. Just for now.”

“Fine.” I lean forward and grab one of the bowls, taking a spoon from his hand. I try my best not to look over at him again, but every so often, I find myself stealing glances. I find myself wondering if it’s really possible for him to have gotten that much sexier in ten years.

As the lead characters in the movie laugh and lean in for a kiss, I hear him letting out a deep sigh. Then he rolls his eyes.

“Since when do vampires sparkle?” he asks.

“They always have.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes again. “I can’t take much more of this.”

“Well, good thing you don’t have to. You have your own room, and from what I recall, you have an even bigger TV.”

“How would you know?”

“I wouldn’t,” I say, blushing. “I’m just speculating.”

“I’m sure.” He sets down his bowl. “What made you dye your hair?”

“What?”

“Your hair.” He looks as if he’s going to run his fingers through my new auburn and blonde streak locks, but he holds back. “I liked it better dark brown.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep it this way then, especially since I’ve always lived my life for you.”

His lips curve into a smirk. “I see a lot hasn’t changed.”

“The fact that you still annoy me? No, that hasn’t changed at all.”

“You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“So, do you normally make it a habit to make-out with guys that annoy you?”

“I did not ‘make out’ with you.”

“You kissed the shit out of me,” he says. “Were you feeling horny? Sexually deprived?”

“Neither. I was drunk.”

“You weren’t that drunk.”

“I clearly was, if I kissed you at all.”

“I think you need to quit lying to yourself.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

“I definitely would,” I say, my heart racing. “Don’t try it.”

“’Trying’ isn’t really my style,” he says, moving closer. “Surely you remember that.”

“I don’t remember anything about you.”

“You sure about that?” The way he’s looking at me, has my stomach in knots and I can feel a slight warmth in my cheeks.