Fall From Grace(20)

Less than three hours later, we collapsed sweaty and exhausted on my couch.  Shane aimed the remote toward the television and flicked through the channels.  We settled on some unknown comedy show and laughed uncontrollably at the jokes we heard.  That’s exactly how Conner and Lea found us when they woke up and stumbled, groggy from sleep, into the room.  Shane and I slumped over the couch, both of us sweaty, panting and laughing.

“Oh my God!  Did you two just have sex out here?  Ewww.  Grace!  Come on, Shane really?” Lea yelled.

We laughed even harder.  “What?  You seriously think that we just had sex?  Here on the couch?” I asked.

Shane looked at Conner and gave him a thumb up.  “Dude, if you guys look like this after you guys get freaky, that’s awesome.  But, no we just came back from a run.  I wouldn’t touch Grace if you paid me.  She’s really a man.”

Shane stood up still chuckling.  “I’m starving.  Grace, you hungry, bro?  I’ll make you breakfast.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, immediately suspicious.  What could this man possibly make me for breakfast?  “Are you even capable of pouring cereal into a bowl?”

He arched one eyebrow at my joke; eyes sparkling.  “Are you insulting me?”

I shrugged.  “Um.  No, not really.  It was an honest question.”

He walked across the room and theatrically waved his arms toward the kitchen door.  “C’mon. You have to be just as hungry as I am after all that sex…I mean all that running.”

I threw a pillow at him.  He ducked.  “Oh, so now you’re saying you do have sex with guys?” I laughed, following him into the kitchen.

Most of Shane’s body was already deep in the refrigerator piling stuff into his arms.  When he was satisfied with what he found, he dropped it all on the counter and reached for a frying pan.   “So, honestly, why did you think I wouldn’t be able to cook?”  He was facing the stove pouring a cap full of vegetable oil into the pan, so I couldn’t see his expression.  He cracked three eggs at a time right into the pan.  I wonder how many shells just dropped in there?

He flipped the top of the garbage pail open, tossed the shells in, and repeated the process.  After chopping, dicing and adding all the ingredients, he turned the burner on.  He lifted his sweatshirt over his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead with it.

Oh dear God, he is perfect!  A large black tribal tattoo that began as a dragon at his elbow curled around his right shoulder and traveled onto his shoulder blade.  The thick black tribal strokes exquisitely turning into a dove, wrapping its wings around itself.  His skin was a soft bronze stretched over the ridged hardness of his muscles.  It was completely understandable how girls threw themselves at him.  I pitied him, wondering if he’d ever feel anything more than the sensations of his own skin.

He got out two plates from the cabinet as if he owned the kitchen.  Geez, how many times has he cooked in this kitchen in the last six months?

Placing one plate in front of me and another in front of him, he sat down and shoved a fork full of food into his mouth.  “Spinach, mushroom, green pepper and cheese omelet ala Shane,” he said between chews.  “You haven’t answered me.  What is it about me that made you think I can’t cook?”

I stabbed the omelet with my fork and took a bite.  Crap, it was delicious.  “You just strike me as a shallow person who gets everything they want from other people.  I would have bet that you’ve had a different blonde make you breakfast every morning of your life.”