8 - lunch with the Creeds

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever."

― Alfred Tennyson

. . .

"It's a little undercooked," Zavier told me, showing me the edge of the Bruschetta as he laid it down on my plate. "The chef probably roasted it for too little." He kept glaring at it.

"Zavier, really, no one cares," Ashton muttered, eating his lasagna. "Did you not order cake, asshole?" He asked Xerxes.

"I ordered the fucking cake," Xerxes grumbled. "I'm not giving it to you."

Ashton looked at me. We were sitting around a square table in his office. I was settled in his large chair which he had rolled here for me as there were only three chairs in the office. I knew I looked ridiculous in the large black chair. "Do you like chocolate cake, little one?"

I nodded, looking at Xerxes. "Yes?" It came out as more of a question. Ashton just looked at Xerxes.

The oldest Creed stood up and walked out of the office, after a few moments he reentered with a black box in his hand. He kept it down on the table. "After lunch," he said to me and sat back down in his seat.

We are lunch in silence. Even when Ashton and Zavier were quarreling it was hard to forget just who they were. I was a little uneasy but I had to admit, the lunch wasn't bad. I didn't have any male friends, so I guess that also played a part in my uneasiness. They didn't seem like men who had many college girls as friends. I did not even get why they wanted to be my friend. If I was not cool enough for my classmates, how was I cool enough for them?

Maybe they were lonely.

They were rich men, maybe they didn't have many people to turn to.

But do you feel that weird flutter in your stomach when you see your friends or when they say your name?

But they were nice to me...and they gave me cake, which looked really expensive and tasted really nice.

That was pretty much all that mattered.

. . .

It was late at night when my phone buzzed. I groaned, snuggling deeper into my sheet. My phone buzzed again.

I dragged one hand out of the layers of my blankets, into the coldness of my room, and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. My heater had somehow broken down and now it was so cold in my room I could barely stay here.

I turned the screen on.

Zavier - are you up?

Zavier -I wanted to ask you something.

I frowned, suddenly wide awake. I rolled to lay on my stomach and texted him back. They had put their numbers in my phone earlier, texting themselves so that they had my number, too.

I'm up.

Zavier - I'm calling.

My heart jumped at that.

My phone rang, the familiar iPhone tune filling the quiet apartment. I stared at the name for a second and then attended, nervousness fluttering in my stomach. I curled into a ball and put the phone on my ear, wincing at how cold It was.

"Kitten," his husky voice greeted me. He sounded as if he, too, had been sleeping before he texted me. "Did I wake you?"

"It's okay," I whispered. "My apartment is really cold so I-I could barely sleep anyway." Only one stutter in the whole sentence. That was good.

"Why is it cold?"

"Heater broke down." I sighed.

"I'm coming to pick you up." I heard the rustling of the sheets. "Be ready." "Zavier-"

He hung up.

I huffed. He could have listened to me.

I closed my eyes and in a few minutes, I was asleep again.

I woke up with someone knocking on the door. I groaned, snuggling deeper into my sheets.

"Open up, Kitten."

I shot out of my bed, walking towards the door and opening it. When his eyes fell on me, I realized what I was wearing. Very short white shorts and a black tank top which probably showed my nipples which had hardened in the cold.

His eyes did a scan on my body, lingering at my breasts, the little hint of my waist because the tank top was small, and my legs which were all exposed.

I grabbed a coat from the coat hanger beside the door and which wore it, feeling myself blush, looking at his outfit. He was wearing black sweatpants and a white full-sleeved t-shirt, his hair looked like a mess.

His dark eyes finally came up to mine as I wrapped the coat around me. "Did you fall asleep after talking to me?"

I nodded.

He tilted his head. "Why aren't you talking?"

"You hung up on me," I muttered, crossing my arms on my chest.

His eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, kitten." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. He ran a hand through my hair as I completely froze against his chest. He was hugging me. "Forgive me?" He asked softly, now running his big palm up and down my spine, making me shiver.

I nodded into the hardness of their chest. "Okay." He hummed, pulling back. "Grab what you need."

I was a little hesitant about staying the night with him. He must have seen that on my face so he gently cupped it and pressed his lips on my forehead.

That....somehow, eased my worries.

I grabbed an outfit for tomorrow, which was Saturday, and my toothbrush and a few of her necessities.

I stepped into my bunny slippers, too sleepy to care if he saw me in them, and let him pull me out of the apartment and lock it. He took a hold of my hands, threading his fingers with mine, and let me down the stairs.

When I sat down in his car, I fell asleep.

. . .

I woke up with the sun messing with my eyes. I was laying on something way too comfortable with way too soft blankets surrounding me which smelled way too good.

And familiar. I shot up.

I was in a dark room.

On the left were transparent sliding doors which led out to a balcony, they were guarded by translucent black curtains. I was on a giant black low bed with white blankets on me. It was a luxurious room which screamed that 'I am a dark dude and I have money'. On the right were two doors and on the

wall opposite to the one which the bed was pressed to had a door in the corner and the rest of the wall was filled with white and black pictures.

I got out of the bed, my bare feet touching the cold black floor, and shuffled towards the pictures. They were or mountains and desert and trees and animals and food and everything. They looked to be taken by a very expensive camera and a very talented photographer. I could tell the work was of one photographer as the style was the same. They were small pictures, about ten inches in width and length, and there were so many on the wall.

Did Zavier take these by himself?

I knew it was his room because or smelled like him. I was a creep.

I spotted my bunny slippers in the corner of the room and wore them, my small bag was beside it so I grabbed it and walked inside the bathroom.

It was a large bathroom with black walls and everything else white. I brushed my teeth and had a mini freak-out session when I realized that he had taken the coat off me while pitting me here. The coat would have probably woken me up soon but...he saw me!

He must have seen a million girls or guys or whoever be preferred. With a face like he and his brothers have, I doubted there was anyone who wouldn't mind jumping in a bed with them.

Unless they were scared of them, of course. Like I was. Just a little now.

I dressed in the clothes I had bought, simple blue jeans and a pale red t- shirt. In search of my coat, I walked inside the closet.

Which was...large.

It was really large.

It looked like a mini showroom of a very expensive brand you can't pronounce right.

Rows and rows of clothes and watches and shoes. It was obvious Zavier liked his outfits well.

I just grabbed my white coat from where it was out over a grey chair and wore it, running my hand through my hair a few times while looking into the giant mirror in the closet.

Finally, I walked out of the room.

. . .