Chapter 9: Veggie Butty for Me, Bacon Butty for You

*Natalia's POV*

I woke up to the smell of various smells that one would only pinpoint to a hearty breakfast and the faint sound of chilled music, Joe's voice harmonizing with it. After rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I rummaged under the sheets, finding a matching set of light grey sweats.

Once Joe still somehow let me stay, even after first-hand experiencing a side of me I developed throughout the last five years, he offered to let me borrow some clothes of his to sleep in. At some point in the night, I threw them off my body. That was something I never did at someone else's place unless I was extremely close with them, like Noah and Jules. No matter how hot I became. But, even though Joe kept his apartment's temperature at night in the sixties, I felt comfortable enough to take it all off besides my underwear.

After retrieving the sweats, I stood with my feet flat on the cold floor to slip into them. My black tank top, high-rise skinny jeans, and bra laid right at my feet. I secretly hoped he'd let me borrow his sweats for just a little longer, but Noah really would've had a fit if I came home in some other guy's clothes.

"Good morning," Joe smiled with a spatula in hand as I stepped down the last stair, "I'm attempting to make my version of a bacon butty. It's all yours if you have no restrictions to lactose, gluten, meat, and eggs. I mean, I didn't include the cheese on it yet, but I already used butter. Oh, and I did think to add a slice of tomato, unless you're the kind of person who hates tomatoes but loves ketchup. Then I can just scratch that. The egg too."

"What the hell is a bacon butty?" I walked around the kitchen counter to stand next to Joe, peering over the stovetop. The bacon was at a perfect crisp in a pan off the burner. Two slices of bread were being lightly toasted in a different pan. A carton of eggs was off to the side, waiting to be cracked.

"It's like a breakfast sandwich. I made it a few times before, but that was years ago. I wanted to see if I still remembered how to make it," he replied, flipping the bread over to toast the other side. He picked up the bacon pieces one by one to lay them on top of the already-toasted side of one of the slices, "Do you like eggs?"

"I do, but," I pressed my lips together, leaning against the counter.

"It's the meat, isn't it?" he said before I nodded my head, "That's okay. That's why I didn't put any bacon on this one just in case. Are you okay with everything else? Oh! I have spinach I can put on it too."

"Yeah, that sounds really good actually," I softly said, watching him do his thing by taking out a tomato and a bag of fresh, organic spinach out of the fridge, "Joe, you don't need to be doing any of this for me. Not after..."

"After what?" he chose to remain clueless, probably to save myself the embarrassment.

My eyes stayed on him, but not his actions anymore. It was his face that my stare was glued onto, "After last night."

"What, were my sweats too big for you? Should I have offered you a different pair?" he flirtatiously took a brief glance at my body, "Because they seem like they fit you just right to me. Maybe a little baggy, but they definitely look better on you than on me."

A small smile crept up, my last night's actions not needing to be discussed. He confirmed it with a little wink, one that I would've missed if I blinked at the same time.

My focus was then drawn to his opened laptop, a personal Spotify playlist playing to fill in the spaces of silence. It consisted of songs I never heard before. Then again, I barely knew any songs.

When Joe handed me his aux cord, no time to Bluetooth my phone to his car, I scrambled finding music to play. In a panicked urgency, I clicked on one of Jules' Spotify playlists she shared to me not long ago. I never made one before in my life. I never needed to. Songs were only important to me if they were ones I had to memorize with my routines.

"I'm surprised you're a morning person," I commented, "You're either a night owl or a morning person. You're the odd one out by somehow being both."

"It depends if I've had my coffee or not," he chuckled, finishing up on stacking the sandwiches in the pan, "Which, I'm so sorry I didn't offer sooner, do you want a cup?"

"I'm good. Thanks though," I temporarily smiled, it barely reaching my eyes. Coffee was on my strict do-not-consume list for as long as I remembered. Even though that list wasn't of use anymore, I still couldn't bring myself to break them all.

He transported the breakfast sandwiches, or butties as what he called them, onto white ceramic plates before cutting them in a diagonal. Their square forms turned into fancy triangles, although even if he kept them in its squared form, it still would've impressed me. It wasn't often someone cooked for me, and if they did, it was my mom whenever I flew or drove to Boston. That all depended on the season and how much money I saved up. 

After motioning in the direction of the living room, I followed him to the green sectional couch. It wasn't leather like I figured all rich rockstars would have in their places. There were definitely pieces of furniture that weren't cheap in the slightest, but more than not, it felt homey and, dare I say, normal.

"So when exactly does 'one night' end?" he inquired, taking a bite out of his bacon butty once we relaxed on the couch in a way that two best friends leisurely would without giving a shit on scrunching the throw pillows too much or getting crumbs all over.

"Trying to get rid of me already, huh?" I grinned, biting an unladylike size in my vegetarian butty. The crunch of the fresh spinach and buttered toast, the juiciness of the tomato, the creaminess of cheese, and the runniness of the egg yolk caused my eyes to roll back in an orgasmic delight, "Oh my god, this is so fucking good."

"I'm glad you like it. Your princess treatment hasn't been terminated yet," his eyes slyly softened as he took another bite, "And I'm not trying to get rid of you. It's just, I have to meet my brothers at the studio in like an hour. I was going to head to the gym right after finishing my cup of coffee, but I didn't want you to wake up alone in an apartment that's pretty foreign to you and having no idea where I went."

I'm sorry—" I started to apologize for ruining his morning routine, but he immediately cut me short.

"Hey, don't," he set his plate full of speckled crumbs and smeared runny yolk down on the coffee table, "It's not a big deal. I can go to the gym later, or maybe I can thank you for indirectly giving me a day's break."

"No, I think now would be a good time for me to go," I replied, stacking my plate on top of his, "Thank you for letting me stay the night. I know it wasn't the sleepover either one of us expected, but you really, really saved me with this one."

He gave me a single nod with a hint of a partial smile. It was hard to read, but if I had to guess, there was a bit of sadness to it.

"Well," I stood up in a sigh, "Let me go change real quick so we both can go back to our crazy lives."

Crazy life for him. Surviving for me.

Once I changed back into my clothes, I carefully folded his sweats and neatly placed them on the bed I slept in after making the bed to be a perfect as it was before being used. Thankfully, my clothes had no reek of alcohol spilled on it or any cigar or weed smell that would enrage Noah with the dead giveaway of my lie on my whereabouts.

I took one more look in the mirror to make sure I looked decent. Even without a hairbrush, bedhead rarely existed for me. My hair was a huge blessing of mine. No matter how I styled it, it stayed exactly as so until I washed it. Even then, my natural hair formed the kind of curls women achieved only with a curling wand. Right now, however, it was pin straight with a shine to it with the help of a new product I had just bought a few days ago on a whim.

"Thank you again," I went in for a hug as we stood by the front door, the Uber he ordered for me already waiting outside.

Our hug lasted longer than what was an appropriate time, but neither one of us pulled away. It was evident we both needed that kind of warm human connection that was rare to come by.

Then I thought of Noah. He pulled me away from my hug with Joe, someone that I knew he could never know about. That friendship wouldn't be allowed, but that was something I didn't want Joe to know. I was living all these lives that could never cross. It was exhausting, really.

It already potentially costed my friendship with Jules when I tried to at least cross those two lives together. I couldn't risk losing another friend. If Joe was even a friend, But then again, Joe used the word 'friend' in terms of us last night. And I had to assume only a friend would have done what Joe did, helping me out in my dire need.

"I'm sure one of us will be stalking the other sometime soon," I teased to brighten us both up again, "It's bound to happen at this rate."

"Or," he paused, retrieving his phone from inside the front pocket of his shorts, "Can I ask for your number instead? It'd be a lot easier to thank you for that gym break instead of waiting for whenever the universe decides for us to run into each other again."

I hesitated for a second before unzipping my bag, taking my phone out and handing it out to him, "It'd be a lot easier if I get your number instead."

His eyebrows twitched in confusion, but accepted my phone nonetheless, typing in his contact information, "Okay, weirdo. Take this as your last princess treatment request for the day."

"Are you implying I'll be getting more of this princess treatment you speak of?" I smirked, slipping my phone back in my bag after it was handed back to me.

He mischievously smized, "We'll see about that."

Walking out of a door was an easy task. One foot in front of the other. That was it. Yet for some reason, it was much more difficult to do. I knew I needed to get back to my apartment. To get back to Noah.

But it was a nice change to finally feel like I had a real friend that truly saw me. A friend that was so easy-going, mysterious, nonjudgmental, and soft. Not the kind of softness that one expressed to be made weak, but the kind that made you feel at ease to divulge all your secrets to that you were so afraid of even speaking aloud because it made them true.