When I write these, they average out to be about a page and a half in Word. I might make them longer eventually, but for now they are what they are. Enjoy!


- Chapter 2: Would You Like Some French Toast? -

The living room is horribly bright in the morning, quite unlike my velvet curtained bedroom, which is darker than the bottom of my closet. I rolled over and looked at the clock and then shuddered. Geez, it's only eight thirty. I'm never up this early! For a second there, I couldn't remember why I was waking up on my couch. Then the memories of last night came rushing back to me.

"Oh my gosh," I faintly whispered, "Criss Angel is sleeping in my bed."

Rather than get all fangirl crazy about it (Wait, I already am!), I decided to do something totally out of the norm for me—make breakfast. Normally, I sleep through breakfast and skip straight to lunch, but I figured I might as well make something to eat and if Criss wakes up, I'll make more.

Grabbing four eggs (two of them were extras, just incase he did wake up!), butter, bread, frying pan, and a bowl, I started the process of making my killer French toast. While the butter was sizzling in the frying pan, I was soaking the toast in eggs. Since everything was cooking itself at the moment, I started up a pot of chocolate-y coffee. It was some new flavor that I tried and fell in love with, so now I'm addicted to it. I went back to the frying pan and dropped the eggy bread into the pan, making a loud noise and a serious mess. I didn't even hear footsteps or the squeaky sound that the barstools make when someone sits down.

"Where am I, and who are you?" came a familiar male voice.

I turned my head to the counter to see Criss, half asleep, staring blankly at me. I don't blame him; I'd be pretty freaked out if some random stranger took me in, too.

"You're in my kitchen, and I'm Melanie. But everyone calls me Mel," I started, trying to sound trusting, as I pulled my breakfast off the stove. "I found you last night, passed out cold on the sidewalk, and I didn't want to leave you there. You know, you're a pretty deep sleeper.'

"On the rare occasion that I do get a chance to sleep, I take full advantage of it." Criss said, still slowed by the morning effects of just waking up.

I smiled and turned my back to him, grabbing two mugs and filling them with coffee. Sliding one across the counter in his direction, I stood directly across from him, the counter separating us. My neglected toast was sitting on a hotplate next to the stove, and I had no desire to touch it at the moment. I watched Criss intently as he took a sip of the coffee.

"Wow, what is this stuff?" He asked, the coffee obviously passing his approval test.

"It's some mixture of coffee and chocolate. I think it tastes rad," I said, taking a long drink.

Criss snorted and tried to suppress a laugh. "Who says 'rad' anymore?"

"I do, thank you very much!" I threw back, my eyes narrowing, "Now before I retire to my bathroom to do my girlish ritual to get ready that requires a ridiculously long amount of time, would you like some French toast?"

"Sure."

Still neglecting the toast I made earlier, I whipped him up a fresh plate and watched him devour it. I didn't know my killer toast was actually that killer, I just gave it that name because it sounded cool.

"Wow, this is pretty good!" Criss commented, in between mouthfuls.

"Thanks. When you're done, you can just put your dish in the sink and I'll tackle it sometime today," I said, walking to my room and stopping at the door, "Just make yourself at home or whatever, and I'll be out soon."

"Try not to get lost." Criss warned me with a wink.

I scowled at him and shut the door.