A/N I'm really sorry about the first two chapters being really short but they should be getting longer and longer! Fingers crossed!
Chapter 4
Victor
I sit there, holding her. The feeling was electric, like nothing I have ever felt before. I feel like this is what I was meant to do, why I was born.
"We'd better get you home then." I don't wanna take her to my mom's house straight away because she would be attacked by loads of heat-seeking-missile-like people and she'd probably never recover.
"Not to your parents house?" she says quickly, looking like she'd hide in a hole until all the welcoming and all that crap was over.
I laugh and say "No, not there. I have a flat on the far side of Denver as my work keeps me here a lot and I don't really have time to drive to Wrickenwridge and back every day. Shall we go then?" I stood up and held my hand out to Lilia, noticing for the first time that she's shivering. I take off my black coat and put it around her shoulders. She pulls it tighter round her.
"Wait…" She turns around and fishes under her mattress for something. When she pulls it out she slips it into her pocket (my pocket) before I see it.
She takes my hand and I put our hands in her pocket. She smiles at me. We step out of the abandoned parking lot and I say, "Well, I bet you'll be sorry to see this go!" She laughs and I laugh with her. Her eyes are full of love as we look at each other. It's amazing. It's like I've been injected with some kind of happiness shot and my heart lurches.
As we walk through the streets, people look at us weirdly, like they can't work out why we're together. A respectable looking man in a suit and tie. A no-longer homeless girl, looking like she hasn't washed for decades. I couldn't give a damn. I am so happy right now; I wouldn't care if she was dancing down the street naked.
When we get to my apartment, the first thing she does is shower. I make us dinner, or try to. As, I cook, I can hear her singing and her voice, wow it's amazing. She's singing Clown by Emeli Sande and it couldn't sound better if Emeli Sande herself was singing it. She emerges from the shower, dressed just in a towel, a smile on her face.
"Oh my god. I hadn't realized how good it felt to be clean!" We both laughed. "Also, I have no clothes so unless you want me wandering around in my birthday suit, might I suggest that I borrow some?"
"Well, as amazing you wandering around naked would be, I think the neighbors would freak if they saw so let's find you something to put on. Nice singing by the way."
"You heard it?" She looked embarrassed and now I wish I hadn't said anything.
"Yeah. It was amazing." If you're going to mention it, make it nice. That's my philosophy.
"Thanks." she said shyly.
I wander into the bedroom, thinking that I'd like to see what's under that towel.
Dirty boy!
You weren't meant to hear about that!
Too late! You're rumbled!
I go over to my closet and pulled out a blue striped shirt and a pair of boxers. She looks at them skeptically, smiling, eyebrows raised, and I say "Its either them or suit trousers! We'll need to go get you some clothes tomorrow!"
"Yep and I'm good, thanks. I'll take the underpants!" She smiles and then starts laughing as the smoke alarm sounds. "Go on, James Kent. Go save the dinner!"
"Who's he?" She is beautiful when she laughs. Her blonder hair shimmers as she shakes her head. Her blue eyes laugh when she does. I am so lucky.
"He's a famous chef, duh-brain! Now, get outta here while I get changed!" She makes shooing movements with her hands and then tries to push me, but fails.
"I'm going, I'm going!" I walk out of the bedroom and then try and save the burning dinner.
A few hours later we had eaten (I had managed to save the lasagna), watched a film (Bride Wars, which was crap), And now she had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I rest my head on hers and breathe in her fresh smell. Then I realize how much I'd been missing.
Minutes later, I lift her up in my arms and carry her into the bedroom. I lay her down on the bed and pull the covers over her.
I remember her thing in my coat pocket. Telling myself that it is mere interest, I walk through to the bathroom where the coat rack is and fish in the pocket. I pull out a torn photograph but it is unmistakably her and her father. Then I notice something. Something that freezes the blood in my veins. The criminal I have to track is her father.