Day Two 8:00am
Day Two 8:00am
“Mila!” Warner drones from behind the apartment door.
Rolling over onto the other side of the bed, I groan into my pillow. I’m hoping that if I don’t respond to him, he’ll take the hint and leave, meaning that I can stay in bed for a bit longer.
I meant it when I told him that I wanted to do something again today but I didn’t realise that it involved being woken up at this ridiculous time.
I understand that there’s no time to waste but I want to enjoy the luxury of sleeping in one more time before it isn’t even a possibility anymore.
“M” Warner knocks.
“I” He says after a pause, knocking again.
Warner continues to chant out every letter of my name, each knock getting louder before I throw my blanket off of me in frustration.
Throwing an old hoodie on so that I could cover myself up a bit more, I stomp my way over to the door.
“Morning sunshine!” He smiles, chuckling a bit as he notices my messy appearance.
“Mhmm.” I grunt back, rubbing my eyes.
“Not a morning person?” He laughs.
“No.” I bluntly replied.
“Wakey wakey, it’s a new day which means new adventures.” He says, his voice even louder than before, causing me to bury my head in my arms as I rest them on the kitchen table.
“What even is there to do at this time?” I yawn before looking up at him as a supply.
Warner drops the shopping bag on the table with a thud and begins to fumble around with it’s contests, looking at me excitedly.
“Well I wanted to get here early to make sure you wouldn’t escape in a bid to avoid me and I thought to make up for waking you this early, I’d make us breakfast.” He smiles proudly, his grey shirt fluttering from the gentle breeze that joined us from the hallway.
“Can you even cook?” I scrunch my face up.
He lets out a deep laugh before shaking his head. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m joking or if I’ve offended him. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if I found out that Warner has been living off of takeaways and microwavable meals for the past two years.
“I may be a messy person but yes Mila, I can cook.” He laughs, lightly licking his lower lip as he watches the surprise grow on my face.
“I’ll be the judge of that. What’s on the menu then?” I raise an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued.
Warner reaches into the plastic bag, pulling out a loaf of bread, cinnamon, milk and eggs.
“I was thinking french toast.” He says, still continuing to pull toppings from the bag like a magician.
“How do you know I like french toast? Perhaps I’m vegan or gluten intolerant?” I test him, holding back a smile as the panic creeps across his face and he begins to fluster.
His eyes look down at mine, narrowing as he tries to judge what mood I’m in. He bits his lips and begins to smirk.
“Very funny but from the fact that you ate a pizza with pepperoni and cheese last night, something tells me that you’re neither of those. Plus, everyone likes french toast, if you’re dont then I think we might have to do these ten days separately.” Warner pulls a face at the end of his sentence, continuing to tease me back.
Picking up his ingredients, he heads over to the stove, beginning to search my cupboards for cooking equipment. Classic Warner, always invasive. He can search every aspect of your world yet he does it in a charming and testing way that is always too alluring to resist.
“Wow, if I’d have known that this whole spending our last days together meant having a personal chef, I wouldn’t have even hesitated.” I joke, resting my feet on the table as I stretch out my body.
“You’re not going to help me?” He asks, looking over his shoulder.
“I thought this was to make up for waking me up at this ridiculous time?” I question back.
“Mila, it’s 8am not 5.” He laughs and I pout at him.
He opens the bag of cinnamon, measuring out how much he’ll need for the mixture.
“Hey Mila?” He says, not bothering to face me as he concentrates.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Have you ever thought about experimenting with food in your artwork?” He says, looking at the information on the cinnamon packet.
“What do you mean?” I laugh at the idea of Warner trying to show interest in art with me.
“Like this-” He begins to say.
In the space of a second, Warner reaches his hand into the cinnamon, taking a large handful before throwing it at me. A cloud of sweet spice engulfs me, causing me to cough and staining my pink pajamas.
“WARNER!” I scream, standing up to shake it off of me.
He stands, holding the packet of cinnamon closely as a weapon, laughing hysterically at my confused and furious face.
“You’re so dead.” I shout, chasing him with an egg.
“Mila, no!” He shouts whilst laughing, running around my apartment.
Never in my life did I imagine that I’d be having a food fight in my kitchen with Warner Taylor at 8 in the morning. Things change when the world is going to end.
After giving up on chasing him, I wait until the mixture is ready before flicking it in his face, creating freckles with batter. His grumpy face soon subsides as he enjoys scooping the mixture off of his face with his finger and eating it. We both agree to surrender and Warner continues to cook us breakfast.
The smell of cinnamon and sugar drifts through my apartment, the sizzling of frying filling the silence between us. I still felt sleepy but my growing hunger is beginning to overtake it. Also, the cup of freshly made coffee is working it’s magic.
Warner places the plate in front of me, drizzling maple syrup over the three slices of bread. It shimmered golden brown under the glossy syrup and it’s enough to put me on the verge of drooling.
“Bon appetit.” He says, sitting opposite me before tucking in to his own breakfast.
“This is so good.” I gush, continuing to show my enjoyment as I eat more.
“I’m glad you like it and I told you I could cook.” He reiterates with a smirk.
“What’s on today’s agenda?” I ask after swallowing a mouthful of the heavenly made goodness.
“So I got a message from my friend Tyler last night, he said there’s some wild party going on tonight and I thought we could go?” He suggests as the colour begins to drain from my face.
“A party?” I stutter.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
“Warner, I don’t know about that.” I dart my eyes to the plate, shuffling my cutlery.
“Mila,” He groans.
“Do I really need to remind you of the whole end of the world thing again?” He asks.
“No.” I mumble, feeling guilty for frustrating him.
“Hey look at me.” His voice is calm as he tries to gain my eye contact.
I slowly lift my head to face him, expecting him to frown or look agitated but instead I’m met with his soft features and comforting expression.
“I know this is known to you but remember what I said about living a little? Surely you want to experience at least one party?” He asks.
I somewhat know Warner well enough to know that this is his nice approach yet I also know that at times, he can be more stubborn than me and if I don’t agree to going with him now, he’ll end up dragging me there later. Or even worse, he’ll continuously knock on my door until I answer, like this morning.
There were the words again though. The words which eat away at me, at my conscience which has always tried to protect me and keep me safe which also meant locking me away. I’ve always dreamed of being invited to a party but something inside of me held me back and it wasn’t long before people stopped bothering to invite me anymore.
“You’re right.” I say, looking away from him to avoid the smug look on his face, I hated admitting this.
“Brilliant!” His voice returns to its cheerful nature and he grabs our plan from the fridge.
Warner scribbles down the plans for this evening, tapping the pen at the blank space left for plans during the day.
“Have you got an outfit for tonight?” He looks up to ask.
“Not anything special, maybe jeans and a nice top.” I shrug.
“That won’t do. It’s your first party and possibly the last, you need more than that.” He says and I frown at his disapproval at my outfit choice.
“Also, we need to get alcohol.”
“Oh, I won’t be drinking.” I say.
“Mila.” He laughs.
“What?” I reply, ready to fight with him over this.
“You are drinking.” Warner continues to get lost.
“I am not!” I refuse.
“Challenge accepted.” He smirks and I sit in anticipation for his ‘live a little’ speech which automatically conflicts my mind.
I’m not against drinking, I’ve just never had anything more than wine, the idea of strong liquor scares me yet something tells me that tonight might be the day I face that feat.
“Okay, go and get ready and we’ll leave soon after.” Warner declares, pinning the plan back under the magnet.
“What shops are we going to? I won’t have much money to spend on all of this.” I tense, already feeling stressed out.
“Trust me, with the way the world is right now, you won’t be needing any money.”