Chapter 22

A sliver of sunlight peeked through the blinds, slicing across my eyelids and pulling me from a restless sleep. Disoriented, I blinked, the events of the previous day flooding back in a dizzying rush. Sitting up in bed, I wrapped my arms around myself, the thin sheet offering little comfort against the chill that had settled in the apartment. The sterile white walls seemed to mock me.
A glance at the clock revealed the early morning hour. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Caleb must be at the gym again.
As the silence stretched on, a strange sense of remorse washed over me. Caleb's startled reaction, his abrupt exit – the image left a hollow ache in my pit.
I should apologize… that might make him more likely to fuck me if he was shy or at least not put me out since sex wasn’t the option. I threw off the covers and padded towards the kitchen. The sterile white counters and chrome appliances seemed even more clinical in the morning light.
Pulling out ingredients from the well-stocked cabinets, I began planning breakfast. Pancakes seemed like a good starting point. But there was no mix. I looked up a recipe and started mixing. The rhythmic sizzle of batter hitting the hot pan filled the air, a welcome sound that replaced the oppressive silence.
As the aroma of maple syrup wafted through the apartment, I couldn't help but smile. It was a small gesture, a simple offering of peace. 
The sound of the front door opening made me jump. I plated the last pancake, a small sense of accomplishment washing over me. Turning towards the doorway, I braced myself, unsure of Caleb's reaction.
There he stood, hair damp from his workout, a weary yet curious expression on his face. The tension of the previous night hung heavy in the air, a silent question mark waiting to be addressed. But for now, the aroma of breakfast and the tentative hope for connection offered a fragile truce in this bizarre situation. Taking a deep breath, I offered a hesitant smile. "Breakfast is ready." The words hung in the air, an invitation, a plea, and the first tentative step towards a future that remained shrouded in mystery.
“I hate pancakes.”  He turned away, heading down the hall. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe him. 
I was so mad I trashed everything, grabbed my bag and left. He was just being vindictive because of yesterday. I went looking for a way to get back at him and walked to the mall nearby. 
Soon, I had a bunch of brightly colored bags in my hands. I’d only bought a few things. I couldn’t really afford it, but if I was staying with Caleb, I wasn’t going to just do so quietly. I bought a small sound system to fill the silence, a soy milk maker, and fresh bedding for myself. I hope the apartment might have a bit of life with them. 
My stomach churned with nervous anticipation as I entered the apartment, the sterile silence greeting me like an unwelcome guest. Climbing the elevator, I envisioned Caleb's reaction, a flicker of warmth replacing the usual stoicism in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, a hint of a smile would grace his lips.
But as I pushed open the door, he looked at the bags and his anger slammed into me like a physical force. The carefully planned words evaporated under his icy stare. 
"I just thought…" I stammered, feeling foolish and out of place, like a child who'd rearranged the furniture without permission.
"You left the dishes unwashed," he cut in, his voice devoid of the warmth I'd dared to hope for. “The kitchen a mess, and threw away food. For what?”
I blinked. “You hate pancakes.”
“Are you stupid or just fucking childish?” He asked and gestured to my bags. “You owe me groceries. And whatever the hell that shit is, it better not be anywhere I can see it.”
I set my jaw. “One is soymilk maker.”
He scoffed. “I have a fucking blender and a hot water kettle already. If you can’t manage that, it’d be best if you just stay out of the kitchen.”
“It’s easier, and your apartment is sterile.” 
He looked at me flatly. “Go stay with someone who gives a fuck. I’m sure Quinton will let you throw your shit around wherever you’d like.”
I flinched. His words felt like a dismissal and a threat.
Plastering a smile on my face, I fought back the tears stinging my eyes. "Alright," I conceded, my voice tight. "Maybe I overstepped." The words tasted like ash in my mouth.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Caleb seemed on the verge of saying something more, but then he scoffed and rounded the island to take the bag with the soymilk maker from me. 
“Are you lactose intolerant?”
I blinked. “Uhm… A bit.”
“You either are or you aren’t.”
“I am.”
He scoffed and turned back, but he didn’t seem to be throwing it away. If anything he opened the box and threw the washable pieces into the sink. The scent of pancakes lingered in the air, and all the mess I’d left in the kitchen had been cleaned up. Above the scent of pancakes was something meaty like steak. Had he made breakfast for himself while I was gone? 
He said nothing to me, but he left and came back with bags of groceries. There was cereal and all kinds of stuff. My soymilk maker sat beside the coffee machine along with three containers of what looked like raw, unroasted nuts. 
He put the groceries away with so much efficiency it was a bit scary. Then, he started making lunch. I had no idea what he’d had for breakfast, but lunch was amazing. He’d made tacos with all the toppings then he left me alone in the apartment with lunch with a meaningful look toward the dishwasher.