Filed to story: Kissed by Claw and Fang
“Yes.” I smile at her. “Thank you so much. I’m starving.”
“Anytime.” She grins back. “Where do you want me to put it?”
“I can take it.” I reach for the tray, but she shoots me a look that says to give her a break. “Um, the bed is fine, I guess.” I gesture toward my side of the room.
She crosses to my bed and puts the tray down toward the foot of it. Then asks, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I have no idea, considering the food is under two of those silver dome things to keep it warm. But since I’m hungry enough to eat almost anything-and I’m not in the habit of having anyone wait on me-I answer, “No, this is perfect. Thank you.”
Trust Macy to think of me even when she’s in class. My cousin is a goddess.
Except, as I settle back onto the bed, I realize there’s a small black envelope on the tray. One that has my name written on the front in a masculine scrawl that definitely isn’t Macy’s.
Uncle Finn, I tell myself, even as my heart beats triple time.
Because it can’t be Zane, I figure as I reach for the envelope with trembling fingers.
Can’t be Zane, I think again as I slide out the simple black card.
Definitely can’t be Zane, I tell myself one more time as I open up the card and search for a signature.
Except…except it is from Zane, and my heart is actually threatening to burst out of my chest.
I don’t know what you like yet, but I figured you were hungry. Stay off that ankle.
Zane
Oh my God.
OmigodOmigodOmigod.
Oh. My. God.
I mean, it’s not the most romantic note in the world, but that doesn’t even matter. Because Zane sent me breakfast.
That’s why he didn’t text me back. He was busy doing this.
I grab my phone and fire off a quick text to him.
Me: Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!! You really are a lifesaver
He doesn’t answer right away, so I start poking around the tray, seeing what he had the cafeteria bring me. The answer is everything.
There’s a cup of coffee and another one of tea. A bottle of sparkling water and a glass of orange juice. There’s even an ice pack for my ankle.
I lift up the domes to find one plate loaded with eggs and sausage and a giant cinnamon roll that smells amazing. The other has a Belgian waffle on it, topped with strawberry compote and what looks to be freshly whipped cream…in the middle of Alaska. In
November.
I’m so touched, I think I might cry. Or I would if I wasn’t so hungry.
Still, there’s no way I can eat all this, and I should feel bad about wasting the food. But right now, I’m too busy smiling to worry about anything else.
My stomach growls again, louder this time, and I dig in, starting with the waffle. Because whipped cream plus syrup plus strawberries equals nirvana.
I’m halfway through the whipped cream covered deliciousness when my phone finally dings again-and I nearly upend the whole tray trying to get to it.
Zane: Sorry, taking a test
Zane: Waffles or eggs?
Me: Waffles all the way
Zane: I figured
Zane: Use the ice pack
Me: Wow. Bossy much?
Me: I am using it. I can take care of myself, you know
Zane: Now who’s being bossy?
I’m not sure if I should be offended or not by that latest crack. I probably should be, but a waffle this good gives the guy a little extra leeway. Plus, I maybe, possibly deserved it.
Me: How about you? Waffles or eggs?
Zane: Neither
Me: So what do you like to eat?
As soon as I hit Send, I realize what a bad idea that last text was and start freaking out. Because oh my God, that sounded way more suggestive than I meant it to be. Damn it. He’s either going to think I’m a freak or he’s going to respond with something really gross, and I don’t want either of those things to happen.
