Jane

"You have 10 mins to change your mind, I just have to pick a few things from my room. Gotta run some errands after the run."

He nudged my nose with his finger and turned around to leave. It was funny how he was the one walking away this time.

"Thought that was my thing to do," I shouted, hiding away the obvious smile on my lips. He silently turned around, ran his hands through his hair and mouthed a few words. "See you later, pretty one." He ended the sentence with a smile, showing off the dimples from a distance.

I closed the door behind me.

What the hell just happened?

My back was glued to the door, lips between my teeth; still trying to hide my smile. It seemed almost as if magic happened. Not only did I wake up fresh and happy but the blissful sight of him had such a seraphic effect on me, I felt like dancing to the random song playing inside my room on the radio; I was seriously not expecting him to show up at my door and now, neither can I control the burning heat running through my cheeks nor the ache in my lips. I slid down on the floor and hungrily took out the pancakes from the brown paper bag. They were wrapped in blue wet towels, warm and ready for consumption. Wet towels? That is odd and a bit old-fashioned for a contemporary restaurant. I searched for the name of the cafe but there was nothing on the bag or the plate. And that is when it clicked me.

Did Ashton make pancakes for me?

Maybe it was Emily but I liked the former thought better. Since I had no interest in cooking, I don't even know how to make pancakes. Plus, I had a few recepies in my diary, just in case I had  to cook. Ew, don't ever let that happen to me, God.

I shuffled the contents out of the bag and a small jam jar dropped onto the floor along with a fork and knife. It said 'strawberry jam' on the packing but when I twisted the lid open, it was yellow and smelled just like the maple syrup.

Homemade pancakes by Ashton Anderson? Yum.

When I unwrapped the towels, the familiar smell of butter reached my nostrils and assaulted my brain with mouthwatering images of fluffy, warm goodness. I imagined Ashton slathering the still steaming treat with liquid sugar, frying the pancakes and singing me a song in his husky voice while I sit in his kitchen, watching him flex his toned body. Lost in the euphoric thoughts, I carefully cut a piece of the soft, round, tan pancake.

Pure rapture. Mmm.

The main flavor to unfurl on my tongue was the sweetness of the syrup; the coolness of the maple and the warmth of the hotcake complimented one another as they outburst with flavors. I cautiously took another bite, not letting the flavor dissolve in my mouth, and afterward another. Before I knew, all that stayed on my plate was spills of syrup, leaving a sweet trail down my throat, making me crave for more.

As I licked my fingers, I debated whether I should go or not. Until he landed here, I had my day fully planned. I would sleep on this soft silky bed till 2 P.M and binge on the fourth season of Orange Is The New Black. A lazy part of me still wanted to do that but I didn't come this far to sleep. I came here for a new start, maybe a place to find my peace?

I should probably go, it feels good to be cared about and I really need to thank him for this delicious gift.

I nodded my head in confusion and rolled my eyes absently around the floor, tossing the empty contents into the paper bag. Distracted, my sight landed on the small note resting near my feet.

You can't say no after you eat these. That is just too much sugar. Ew. Get ready for a run. Bet I have changed your mind by now, Hope. -A

I read the handwritten words once again, slowly, imagining him saying it to me in his thick tone. An obvious smile falling all over my mouth, tracing his crooked handwriting. Dreamy fool. Convinced, I dragged myself into the shower.

Thank God, I packed something sporty for the trip.

Feeling energetic and geared up for a run, I wore my blue sports bra and matching leggings along with my Nike sneakers; not to forget, I even tied my hair with a blue ponytail. I liked being prim and proper, fully aware that nobody cared about the to be sweaty color scheme. It was all for my own satisfaction. I looked at myself in the mirror for a final glimpse, squeezed my eyes shut and shrugged my shoulders, taking a deep breath.

When I am with Ashton, I can't even put a lock on my impulse, like the past few days, the way I was so comfortable around him: teasing him, playing around. A part of me, still afraid of not being able to tell right from wrong.

No harm in connecting with someone, no harm in connecting with Ashton. Don't trip, don't fall. Be cautious, be careful. Walk away from vile things, walk away. Don't trust anyone, never trust anyone too much. No regrets, no feelings.

My eyes opened and the whispering in my head stopped ringing when a knock was heard on the door followed by a familiar voice.

"Hope?" He called out.

I slowly opened the door, half-smiling and peering at him.

"Thank...thank you for everything, Ashton," I stuttered, eyeing him the entire time. At first, I gazed into his green eyes and then my own eyes betrayed me; they rolled down smoothly over his body, muscles pounding under the thin gray shirt and the shorts hanging perfectly on his well-built legs, showing a bit too much of tan skin. But behind all the perfection, I knew he had his flaws. Nobody's perfect, right? I was curious as to where his insecurities were buried but at the same time, I was too scared to dig that deep.

"Never thought you were sporty but with those legs, I bet you are a runner," he smirked, catching me off guard, shifting his eyes from my stomach to my legs. Stop checking him out. Crap.

"Wow, you have got some balls to say that on my face. Stop checking me out, pervert," I rolled my eyes. By now the color of my face might have drained out, I was too embarrassed and to be honest, I wasn't even mad at his comment on my legs.

"Hey, I am not a pervert," he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. My harsh reaction to his comment reddened his face and slipped away his smile. He looked too cute while pouting. Help me, God.

"Ashton, you are hopeless," I laughed, hinting that I was not being serious. The urge to touch his athletic arms kept growing but I was conscious enough to stop myself from doing so.

"Maybe that is why I have Hope in my life." He said as if he was proud of having me in his little world. Am I even in his life?

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Even though it gets irritating sometimes, I know you love it when I call you that." He said, finally giving me a lopsided grin. I shook my head, still preoccupied with his sculptured abs.

"Yeah, yeah. You have me all figured out," I said in a sarcastic tone, throwing my hands in the air and locking my door from the outside. I might have sounded way too sardonic, but on the inside, my heart comes into my throat every time he calls me Hope. I flinch when those words beautifully slur on his tongue; he makes me curious because I see him as a ray of hope instead. What does he see in me?

"Oh, no. I bet there is a lot to learn." A vein popped out of his neck as his eyebrows snapped together, creases appearing on his forehead. I flushed when our eyes locked together. "Of course, there is but you will never learn anything about me. You know enough," I gave him a smug smile.

"And if I win the bet," he paused. His eyelashes fluttered and he leaned in closer. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I rocked back and forth. "You get to share a secret with me." He whispered in my ear, his hot breath quickened as it kissed my cheeks.

When those words left his mouth, I suddenly turned to the opposite direction in anger.

A secret, huh? Never.

I was pretty furious at him; if this was his way of getting past me, then screw him. Asshole. I won't let him charm me or in other words, stab a knife in my heart and wreck it open.

"Jane, it is just for fun. If you want, I will never ask you anything about your past. I promise to never judge you. I respect you enough and I will never force you into telling me something you aren't comfortable in sharing. No, I am not that guy who will do those hideous things to you. I will only think of you as the person you are now; the Hope I know is the girl I made pancakes for. She is the girl who makes my mother feel as if she is talking to her own daughter. The girl who acts like she is unbreakable but still sheds a tear when she hears out my stories as if they are her own. The girl who feeds herself with sugar because I ask her to. The girl who makes me feel like a hopeless stalker because all she does is walk away. I want you to be comfortable with me, Hope. Forget everything, live in your present. I will not let you down. I can try to make you feel like home and you can be anything you want." His voice cracked in the end.

Both of his hands were brushing my shoulders, assuring me that he was just pouring out the truth. He made me smile uncountable times through his little speech but I didn't move an inch. I exhaled a quick breath and turned around, facing him. Emotions running inside me. His hands were still gripping my shoulders, his eyes searching for mine. When he brushed his fingers on my chin, making me look into his eyes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced his warmth. Ashton's after shave cologne went straight up my nose. He took a sharp breath, my heart racing faster than ever. I pulled back within seconds, not letting him hug me back. When I glanced at him, his eyes were wide opened and it seemed as if he was craving for more just like me.

Even calling the situation shocking seemed like an understatement. Leave him, I was the one surprised by my own reaction.

Grasping for air, I managed to take a step back. Watching me flinch, he coughed and gathered himself by massaging his neck and running his fingers through his hair.

"Come on let's get that heart beat pumping, mine has already been running since the past five minutes," he passed an amused crooked smirk, aware his words worked on me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, innocently.

"Nothing, follow me,"

"No, that is your thing to do." I teased, tugging on his shirt. Licking his lips, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the lobby.

***

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