Sprinkling Fling ✓

31.

I wake up to the sound of soft knocking on the door.

My eyes slowly flutter open but close again due to the brightly lit room. I feel Del shift behind me, his arm retreating from my waist as he sits up and climbs out of bed. I can hear him tiptoeing to the door. He probably assumes I'm still asleep.

I pretend to be sleeping, not ready to face whoever is behind that door. I know it's one of Del's parents, but I want to be a little anti-social, and being around new people, being on my best behavior—afraid to be judged—takes a lot of my social battery.

I hear the door open, followed by whispering. I can't figure out what they say, but I hear that it is Edith, his mom. The smell of freshly baked goods fills my nostrils and wakes me up. I can almost hear my stomach grumble.

Their conversation doesn't take long before I know it, the door is closed, and Del is walking back to the bed.

I slowly open my eyes to look at him. Shirtless and in his boxers, he walks over to the bed with a tray in his hands.

I shuffle back and sit against the headboard, looking at him with expecting eyes.

"Good morning, ice baby." He says and leans down to place a kiss on my lips, the tray still in his hands. I hum into the kiss as if saying good morning to him, "my mom brought some pastries from the shop here so we can have a good breakfast. And I have to say I've been dying to eat her baked goods again. I miss it so much when we're on campus."

"It smells so good," I agree with him, "is she working?"

"Yeah, she works a lot. When I still lived at home, she only worked mornings to see me more, but since I left, she didn't want to sit at home being a housewife, so she is back to running the business."

He has come to sit on the bed with me again. The tray is between us, so we both grab a plate to prevent crumbles from falling into his clean sheets. I take a simple butter croissant while he goes for a danish.

I moan as I take the first bite of the croissant. "God, this is so good. Why is this only the first time I'm tasting this."

"Oh, her croissants are the best. She spent so much time perfecting the recipe—she flew to France to learn it in a pâtisserie. It's all about the butter they use to make them."

"So, are you able to make something like this?"

"Um, I guess." he says and rubs the back of his neck, "I used to help my mom bake just about anything. Haven't baked anything in a while."

"That's a shame. I suppose you'd be able to sway me with these pastries," I say, smirking.

"Oh, is that so?" He laughs back as we continue to eat. We eat so much of what his mom gave us—too much.

It's a beautiful start to our first day here. No more fights or tension, just us enjoying each other.

❆

With an iced latte in my hand, we're walking the streets of New York. I blindly follow Del, he grew up here, so I trust his natural navigation.

I still can't believe I'm spending a week here. I would never be able to afford a hotel for a week in New York, but thankfully we're staying for free at his parents' place.

His dad had been out this morning, and his mom had gone back to the shop after bringing our breakfast, leaving Del and me to venture for ourselves. He promised to take me to all the tourist spots this week. Today he takes me to see the statue of liberty.

We walk down the stairs of the subway station. I'm excited. A bit scared—I've heard stories about the subway. But I want the New York experience, so here we are. The subway is also a lot cheaper than taking taxis everywhere.