38

S eeing Matilda and Leera together is just the cutest thing. Goddess, I've gone soft. I've never called anything cute in my existence. What is this creature doing to me?!

Leera refused to let Matilda cook breakfast on her own. I learned that she loves to cook but hasn't done much since she lost her parents. So I sat at the bar and watched them bustle around the kitchen to make enough breakfast for everyone.

The men slowly started to trickle into the kitchen, being able to smell everything they were cooking in here.

Benny is the first one to stumble in; the twins are a couple steps behind him, still half asleep. "What's the occasion?" he asks. He grabs a slice of bacon from a platter, and Matilda swats at him for his impatience.

"Miss Tilly, let me help cook breakfast! I hope you all enjoy it." Leera beams. Slate heads directly for his seat at the corner barstool, and Andrei walks in with a sleepy smile on his face when he sees the abnormally large breakfast spread.

There's a massive pile of blueberry waffles, biscuits with sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, sunny side up eggs, bacon, sausage, and fresh cut fruit.

By the time I get my mate back, she's so happy that it makes us all smile. Leera demanded Matilda eat breakfast with us, and we had a wonderful breakfast just talking to each other, and it all just felt right. We've lived here for so long, and it has never felt this much like a home before. All thanks to her.

As much as I would like to spend all my time with her today, she has homework, and I have practice.

She agrees to let me drive her home and take the opportunity to let her choose the music stations, so I can learn what she likes.

Turns out her taste in music is very eclectic. She likes a lot of different styles and artists. We started with 90's music, switched to some older stuff Taylor Swift did, a couple songs by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, before one Kane Brown song, and then Rob Zombie.

She apparently draws the line at jazz and doesn't care for a lot of newer music. She has her favorite music artists, and she doesn't need any more.

I may have driven around the city a few times to spend more time with her, and I'm fairly certain she noticed but didn't say anything. It's going to be too hard to watch her walk away. I'll need to remedy our living situations as soon as possible.

When I finally pull up to her dorm building, we've driven around long enough that I don't have time to walk her in. Because I'm a dumbass.

She begins gathering all her things, then leans across the center console. I greedily crash my lips into hers, wishing there was a way to tattoo the taste of her on my tongue.

She pulls away flushed, and breathless, with that faraway haze of lust, and I have to remind myself she's not ready.

"Have a great day, darlin'; text me."

She nods, climbs from the car, twirls around, and skips across the lawn to the door of her building.

I wave, watching her make it all the way inside before I leave for the arena.