Chapter 11

GRACE'S POV 

The smoke in the room wasn't coming from the room, it was coming from somewhere else in the house. 

With my brain still foggy, I hopped out of bed, coughing violently. I immediately rushed out of the room and went straight to the kitchen. 

Susan was in the middle of using a kitchen towel to blow the smoke out. Meanwhile, the source of the smoke, a charred something, sat still in the frying pan on a not turned off stove.

I would've slapped my face in desperation if I wasn't on the edge of choking. I went straight to the stove, turned it off, and then put the charred whatever in the bin. 

Susan turned to me, a guilty smile plastered across her face. “Hey, sleepyhead.” She coughed.

I wasn't smiling. I was annoyed with her. “What is this, Grace? Are you trying to kill me by suffocation?” I snapped, pushing past her to open the window wider. 

“Asphyxia. That's the medical term that covers the entire…concept of suffocation. Just so you know, you know. But it's not like I was trying to kill you, or me. We're too young, and I'm incapable of murder, you know that. I've only ever killed geckos since I was born…” She rambled, trailing off when she saw my death stare. 

I admit, I was more pissed at the fact that her charred whatever woke me up from my dream. I wished I heard everything my father had to say, but unfortunately, I got woken up abruptly. 

“I'm sorry, Grace. I just thought I could make us both breakfast. Apparently, watching the reruns of your favourite TV show while cooking shouldn't be recommended.” She said, playing with the towel in her hand. 

It wasn't her fault. Entirely not, at least. She just had the unheard talent of not being able to cook just well, which is why she either lived on takeouts, bistro meals, or my food. And I didn't judge her for it, absolutely not. 

I sighed, my shoulders dropping, and my chest deflating. “Why? You know you're absolutely amazing at cooking charcoal.” 

She blinked at me. “Ha ha.” I chuckled. 

“Seriously though. I just wanted to do something small for you, and I know how much you love breakfast, so I thought I'd just do it before you woke up.” She added, shrugging.

“What time is it anyway?” I asked, looking around for a phone. 

“A little past 6.” She answered, phone in her hand. 

I shook my head at her. “How about you clean this up, and I make breakfast? That way, we can both get to work on time, and with an uncharred breakfast in our stomachs.” I clapped shortly, appreciating my precedented idea. 

She shrugged. “Works for me.”

“What were you even trying to make? I couldn't make out what was in the pan before dumping it.” 

She smiled sheepishly. “Waffles. Just waffles.” 

I snorted. “Sweetheart, the waffle maker is where it's always been, beside the microwave. Did you forget that?” 

“Well, I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure I'd remember how to use it, so I took an easy way out.” She threw her hands in the air. 

“And almost landed us in the ER with our lungs filled with burnt air.” I said, and we both laughed. 

I would think about the dream later, but for now, I just wanted to enjoy a moment with my best friend who hadn't betrayed me just yet.

___

After breakfast, Susan made a run for the door as she was 20 minutes away from being late. Despite the fact that she hated her boss, she didn't want to end up fired because of something that's her fault. She wanted to be fired because her boss was unfair to her, that way, she'd be able to rage about it. Yes, that's exactly what she said.

After I dressed up, I grabbed my bag and headed out. Before I could walk away from the apartment further, a familiar car stopped beside me and honked at me. 

I paused, confused, but curious. I was about to walk away when the driver wound down his passenger seat window. I bent low and cocked my eyebrow. 

“Ethan? What are you doing here?” I asked. 

He got down from the car, jogged over to the other side and then opened the door. “Well? Get in.” He gestured to the empty seat. 

“You haven't answered my question yet. You don't live around here, what are you doing here?” I asked again, my shoulders squaring up. 

It was bad enough that a dead man was alive in another timeline, but he was stalking me? I wondered. 

“I'm not stalking you if that's what you're thinking. I was driving past the neighbourhood and decided to see if I could catch up with you before you left for work. Nothing weird, just kindness. So, please, get in?” He smiled.

I cocked my head to the side, scanning him, making a decision. “I'm only getting in because I'd rather not be late.” Then, I climbed into the passenger seat, leaving him to shut the door for me. 

He jogged back to the driver's seat and climbed in, immediately putting the car in drive and leaving the spot. 

“Why didn't you call me if you were waiting for me?” I asked him.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I would, I absolutely would, but I don't have it. Which is why it might've looked like I camped outside your apartment through the night just so I could take you to work.”

I chuckled. “Oh. Makes sense.” 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Just in case I happen to pass by the neighborhood another time, you know. And for easier communication.” He winked. 

I shook my head and took the phone from him. I inputted my phone number and handed it back to him. “Just in case you happen to pass by the neighborhood another time.”