Bacon and Maple Syrup.

We stand in the basement. The lights are off, and laughter bounces off the stairwell walls down towards us. The party continues upstairs, we can't hear the music but the bass reverberates and shakes our bones.

A single window, high to the ceiling, lets the sky in just a bit. The moon is full and high and bright in the sky, peeking in on us. A large square of milky white light lies on the green carpeting. It's enough light to make out her face.

Her hair is jet black, as are her eyes. I stare intently into them, hoping the darkness of the room masks what my intentions are. I see glimmers of red, embers of a fire burning deep within. She stumbles a bit. The alcohol is taking more effect. She laughs loudly and makes an embarrassing comment, about a dozen decibels too loud for the quietness of the basement's darkness. I can feel the alcohol in my own veins, sluggishly restraining my movements. I can feel it slowly filling my brain, making a fog of my thoughts.

She makes a soft comment. I'm not sure what it is. I lean forward to hear what she says, and she wraps her arms around my neck. I place mine at the small of her back, suddenly painfully aware of who she is, of where we are. The alcohol seems to evaporate from me.

She whispers into my ear. "Please..."

It takes me a few seconds to process what she has said. But she doesn't give me more time to think about it. She turns to face me, her face hovering in front of mine, eyes closed. At this point my brain begins to sound alarm bells. She's drunk and doesn't know what she's doing!


She opens her eyes again. She peers into mine. Her hand runs through the hair on the back of my head. The embers that glimmered in her eyes a moment before are now a roaring fire. Her eyelids slant downwards from her nose: she is beginning to have second thoughts. Embarrassment begins to creep in. It has an extinguisher at the ready, ready to douse her.

I feel a pang in my heart, and then in my stomach. A feeling of pity. Then of desire. I imagine a click in my mind, something has come loose. I am free.

I close my eyes and plunge. Even without seeing it, I can feel the surprise on her lips. Hard and tense, but slowly begins to soften. I can feel the heat emanating from her. The urgency builds, her hand pulling me towards her just a bit harder. I can feel her coming loose in her own mind as well.

Suddenly my eyelids are awash in harsh yellow light. We spring away from each other, squinting at the lights turned on. She falls back into an armchair, and I half lean on the wall behind me. We can hear feet and voices descending the stairs. They approach, and begin to talk to me. I glance at her, her eyes are closed. Either feigning sleep, or fallen into a drunken stupor. I continue to chat, but make for a blanket folded in a pile on a nearby table, draping it over her as she sleeps. I go back to the voices, hushed now in the presence of a sleeping body. We laugh softly and return upstairs to the party, in my drunken state forgetting what transpired moments ago.

~~~

I wake with a start. In an unfamiliar room, asleep on firm yet carpeted ground, my mind races to recall how I got here. I am suddenly aware of a hand grasped in my own. I let it go with another jolt, the second surprise in as many seconds. I half sit up, peering around. Memories come flooding back to me as I realize I am back in the basement. Instead of moonlight, the sunlight shines through the window. A curtain has been pulled on the window, and the sun pulses behind another curtain of clouds. The exact right brightness for a Sunday morning. The room is empty save for the armchair, a TV, and the table piled with blankets. One blanket is strewn from the pile, leading to my own body. Another leads from the armchair to the sleeping body beside me. She also begins to stir, her hand opening and closing, probably looking for warmth again. I take her hand again and lie back down on the pillow, staring at her face. A smile is spread wide across her face, angelic. I shudder once in silent laughter at the sight. This is enough to wake her up.

She opens her eyes, the confusion I felt moments ago now passed onto her. She sits up and looks around, slowly understanding, and then lying back down. She doesn't release my hand.

I whisper "Morning"
She closes her eyes again "Hey. It's too early"
"I know, but I'm wide awake"
She opens her eyes again "Yeah, so am I."

Her hand flexes around mine, and she releases it quickly. She must've just noticed now where it had been. She continues, "We shouldn't be though. I can smell breakfast being made, someone must be awake. That must be why we're awake"

I sniff, and smell maple syrup and bacon in the air. My stomach growls in response.

She laughs "I guess we didn't really get much of a dinner last night, did we?"
I laugh as well "No, not really."

She sits up again, running her fingers through her hair. I get up as well, stretching and yawning, the last ebbs of sleep retreating away.

I look to her, "Shall we?"
"Sure."

I offer my hand, which she takes and rises up. She brushes off her clothes, sending dust and crumbs flying from her clothes. We start up the stairs in darkness when I stop her. She turns to face me, standing a step ahead of me, her eyes just a few inches above mine.

"About last night..."
"What about?"
"About what happened down here..."
"Oh... that... " I can see red flush her cheeks, shame coloring her voice.
"Oh no, it's okay. We were both a little drunk, these things happen. It's not like I didn't enjoy it"
"Oh?"
"I'm just glad we didn't do anything we both regret.,,"
"Oh..."

My mind screams at me. TAKE A CHANCE
"I'm glad we didn't do anything we both regret... because I like you a lot, and I would hate for us to start off on the wrong foot."
"I... I like you too. I'm guess that's where that came from last night." She smiles again, her voice sounding confident once more.
I placed my hand at the small of her back, and I can feel my heart leap from my chest up into my throat, wriggling to escape out my body before I make a fool of myself.
I smile and swallow it back down, and pull her in again, closing my eyes. Our lips meet again. But not with urgency or lack of restraint. Shy and chaste, like unsure footing of an inexperienced mountaineer on the side of a craggy cliff. I pull away again. We both smile widely. She takes hold of my hand, and turns up the stairs, drawing me behind her.

We ascend over the threshold of the basement, our noses barraged with the smell of eggs and bacon, of syrup and pancakes.

To this day, the smells of breakfast brings me back to that moment in that dark basement.