The Love We Choose

Chapter 4

Several hours later, Lynne woke from her slumber to something warm trailing down her neck. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and her fuzzy, sleep-addled brain focused on the familiar, light blue walls. I know these walls. Hmm? Huan has blue walls. Right.  Reaching up a hand to figure out what was on her neck, she froze when she pulled back her fingers covered in saliva.  She shuddered in disgust before her rage took over.

"Dammit Huan!  Wake up!  You're drooling on me!"

"Shh.....speak lower, too loud!"  He replied softly, removing his arms from her waist, covering his ears, and burrowing further down under the covers.

"Whatever; control your saliva man!"  She snapped, annoyed at him, hopping off the bed, heading into his bathroom to wipe off her shoulder.  When she looked at herself in the mirror she saw that the saliva wasn't only on the skin of her cinnamon-brown shoulder, but trailed down the front of her dress from her shoulder as well.  "What the fuck?! Is there any liquid left in your mouth this morning?"  She screamed at him from the bathroom.  A muffled response of unintelligible nonsense was all she got in return.  Grabbing a washcloth from the rack, she cleaned off her shoulder and neck, then took her dress off, taking care to spot the areas with the drool stains on them, and walked back into his bedroom, aiming for his dresser.

Grabbing one of his smallest t-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts, she put them on, tightening the strings on the shorts around her trim waist to fit her, and walked into the living room to check her phone.  She had missed the texts from Ava signifying that she and Keith had made it safely home.  Shooting off a reply that she had only made it as far as Huan's place due to his inebriation she noticed the time, 12:15pm.  "Hmm. Guess I was more exhausted than I thought I was."  Undoing the elastic band that was holding her braids back from her face, she let them fall to her shoulders, and massaged her scalp.

After turning her morning energizing playlist on her phone and raising the volume, she slipped the device into the pocket of the shorts and headed to the kitchen.  "Valery" by Mark Ronson, featuring Amy Winehouse was the first song up and she swung her hips to it and started singing along as she walked.  She was hungry and needed a recovery breakfast.

Filling the teapot with water, Lynne set it to boil on the stove, then filled Huan's French Press with the necessary amount of grounds for the cup of coffee he would need when he finally left his room. Retrieving the box of lychee-flavored green tea she had hidden in his cabinets, she dropped a tea bag into a mug for herself.   Rifling through his refrigerator she found a half-full carton of eggs, some mushrooms, leftover cooked bok choy, a packet of sausage, a bruised avocado, and some bread.  "Perfect."  Taking these items out and putting them on the counter, she grabbed the necessary cookware and spices then got to work on veggie-omelets with a side of sausage with toast.

The sound of shuffling feet in the bedroom was quickly followed by the closing of a door.  After a flush from the toilet, the unmistakable sound of running water could be heard.  Estimating his average shower time and adding time for the time he would probably fall asleep under the water due to his probable hangover, Lynne set a mental clock for thirty-five, maybe forty minutes to get food ready before he came out. More ample time than she needed.

Soon the apartment was filled with the enticing aromas of fresh coffee and breakfast foods. About thirty minutes into her cooking there was a knock on the door. Turning the pan with the first omelet in it down low, Lynne answered the door, singing along to "Queen of the Night" by Whitney Houston. Taking a look through the peep-hole she could not believe who was standing on the other side and cracked the door open with a groan.

So much for 48 hours Veronica-free. "Veronica, what are you doing here?"   Lynne only half-opened the door, keeping a strong grip on the knob.