ready for it? • t. zegras

two

Three knocks pound on my door over the music blasting in Til's room. I sigh and continue my struggle at buttoning my shirt fast. Trevor will be here any moment and I took longer than I intended to on my makeup. Not that I don't fucking love going slow and relaxed but today was not one of those days. This is a "We went out on a Sunday night like dumbasses and didn't go to bed until four" morning with a morning plan.

Three more pounds on the door and my sigh this time is more of a huff. "What, Tilly?!"

"You have a guest," she shouts back.

Fuck.

I check myself in the mirror. Shirt's tucked into the skirt. No tears in my tights. Makeup's all good. Hair's good. We're good. I grab my bag and walk out of my bedroom where Tilly is holding up a fist, ready to once again pound on the door. Instead, I bump the side of her fist (she knocks no other way than with the side of her first) with mine.

"Good morning, dearest," I say.

She beams. "Good morning, love bird."

"Funny." I walk past her down the hall toward the kitchen.

Did I put my keys in my bag last night? Those things never end up where I need them. Seeing as they definitely aren't in my bag, they could be anywhere. I had them last night. I unlocked the door. I drove us home. They have to be in the house.

All thoughts of keys stop when I enter the kitchen-dining room. All thoughts gone except for the man leaning against our kitchen counter as if he grew up in this house. Lord, have mercy on me he looks good in and out of bar lighting. Keys. Keys! Damn it.

"Hi, sorry," I shoot out while I begin to search every surface for my keys. "I can't find my keys."

"I feel a bit underdressed," he jokes. The search stops for an excuse to look at him again. He's in sweats, a hoodie, and a beanie.

"No such thing as underdressed or overdressed in this house."

"Are these your keys?" Trevor grabs what are absolutely my keys off the counter. "Mira left a note saying she found them in the pantry."

For the first time this morning, I go within six feet of him. Despite what my brain theorized, he was really there. I'm leaning against the counter with my hip next to him and I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. I don't. I take my keys while trying to ignore how good his probably expensive cologne smells.

"You're a godsend." I smile. "Never would have read an actual note."

A faint "Tenner!" comes from the hall and Til's music gets louder and then back to muffled. Oh god. Trevor was left with Matilde for who knows how long. If it was Mira, it'd be fine. But it was Matilde fucking Torres. Once she walks in, any anger leaving her face seeing us in the kitchen makes me realize in this case it's fine. Tilly would love for me to bring someone to talk about hockey in.

She shakes her head to force focus on herself. The frustration returns as she holds her phone up. "I need you to please answer Sunshine so he stops texting me to tell you to answer."

My phone isn't in my pocket. Damn it. Oh, never mind. I grab it off the counter where it was two inches from my hand.

"I am so close to blocking him," Til states. "Like, genuinely so close."

"You love the kid more than I do." I have to remind her of that every time she threatens to be close to blocking him. Which, with how annoying my brother is, is often.

"Don't tell him that." Her retort fades away and I wait for the music to unmuffle and muffle again before going back to Z.

He's already smiling down at me. "Sunshine?"