I CAN'T GET IT RIGHT (3/3) Run from the one who comes to find you
When all our plates were empty, when I leaned back in my chair feeling sated and slightly drowsy, I was surprised to see Matthew stand up and collect the dishes. My mother turned to my brother and me with a meaningful look in her eyes and for once Alex was quicker to understand than me. He scraped his chair back and rose to his feet. When I got it as well I uncrossed my legs and hastily mimicked him.
"Oh no, you don't have to..."
"It's okay, I've got it..."
I smiled at Rose and her grandson, who had just spoken in unison when Alex and I had started collecting our own plates.
"We don't mind," I told them. "It'll be quicker this way."
Matthew appeared unconvinced still he didn't object any more, and my mother quickly got Rose's attention again so that she let it go as well.
I carefully picked up the piled up plates and followed the boys out of the room. On my way to the kitchen I noticed the wooden stairs leading to the first floor and I slowed down in my tracks. The corridor up there hadn't been lit and the steps were leading straight into the dark. I stood there for a moment, staring into the eerie blackness.
Their bedrooms were probably upstairs. I caught myself idly wondering what Matthew's room could look like. I imagined it to be dark and intriguing. I pictured a bed in my mind; a bed surrounded by shelves where sat many strange objects. I wondered what sort of books he read, if he did like to read. What could his hobbies possibly be? Apart from music of course… What could pique his interest?
Gooseflesh rose on my skin and I was suddenly eaten up with curiosity. But the sound of dishes clanging in the kitchen reached my ears and it snapped my wandering mind back to the present. I inwardly sniggered at myself for having such Hitchcocky thoughts. Strange objects… Hah! As if.
I dragged my gaze away from the stairs and joined my brother and Matthew in the kitchen.
"Don't worry, we have a dishwasher," the latter informed me as I laid the plates I'd been holding on the worktop. "Just leave them here, I'll take care of it," he added.
Alex seemed more than satisfied with that and he went back into the dining room without needing to be asked twice. I, on the other hand, insisted on staying.
"It's only normal, your grandmother was kind enough to invite us tonight," I pointed out as I picked up a sponge next to the sink.
"You have a strange definition of normality," Matthew commented, bending over to open the dishwasher's door as he did. "Usually guests don't do the dishes."
"Well... They do at our place. So be prepared if we ever invite you," I quipped.
Due to his apparent reluctance to my helping him, I'd been wondering if- and why- he felt that uncomfortable around me. But he quietly chuckled at my little joke and I relaxed a bit. I was most likely just imagining things.
We were being quite efficient, surprisingly. We'd found a productive pattern: I was quickly running some water on the dishes- rubbing a bit with the sponge when needed- and I passed them to him. He then crammed them somewhere in the dishwasher.
I kept casting quick looks at him all the while, it was easier to be discreet about it now that we weren't sitting facing each other. Still our eyes eventually met, and this time I was the one to catch him staring at me. Indeed, at some point I glanced at him and saw that his eyes were fixed on my face. I expected him to shyly look away like I had done all evening…except that he didn't. On the contrary, he firmly held my gaze.
I'd have thought that artificial light wasn't the most flattering there was, and yet it made his eyes look bright and striking. My lips parted, as my lungs suddenly felt smaller than usual, and I had to look away, feeling my cheeks heat up. His blue stare was just impossible to hold.
He had such a strange, incomprehensible demeanor. The way he moved and talked, and his attitude in general, was making him appear so aloof and indifferent. But if he cared so little, then why the insistent eye contact? Not to mention the inquiring stream of questions about my skills as a pianist…
I did my best to look unmoved but the plate I'd been handing him nearly slipped from my fingers and my heart leaped in my chest in fear of dropping it. Thankfully he quickly caught it, avoiding the worst, and he had the courtesy not to make any remark. At this point it weren't just my cheeks that felt hot, but my whole face and chest. I tried to focus on my task and didn't allow myself any look in his direction after that. And finally, after five long minutes, we were all done.
It was with a certain relief that I left him behind while he started the dishwasher's program. When I entered the dining room again all lights had been turned off except for one lamp, and the room was empty but for the music. Nina Simone's voice had replaced Bill doggett's, and she sang about her lost love and how she wanted him to know she'd been a fool and she wanted him back. The others had gone outside to sit and chat around an outdoor table. I leaned against the doorframe that opened onto the garden without joining them right away.
Feeling that my chignon had lowered in my nape, I reached up and pulled on the band that was holding it together. I slid my fingers in my hair and gently shook it loose. The evening air was fresh and letting my hair down would help to keep my neck and shoulders warm.
My blonde locks were partly blocking my sight as I brushed my fingers through them, but even if couldn't see anything to my left, my sixth sense told me I was being watched. I peered through my mass of hair and discerned Matthew's silhouette.
Heat crept up to my face once again. A bit self-conscious about the fact that I'd just behaved like I was in some kind of fancy shampoo commercial, I pushed my hair behind my ear and tucked my hand in my jean's left front pocket. And I was unable to keep myself from glancing at him.
He was slouched against the opposite side of the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes lingering on…either my hair, my neck or my shoulder, it was hard to say. His gaze slid up to mine and I immediately looked away.
But I'd had the time to notice the look in his eyes.
I say 'the' look, yet I have absolutely no idea how to describe it. It was undescribable. All I know is that my stomach dropped at the sight of it. As if I was in a roller coaster, only way better. It lasted just a second but it was enough to leave me dry-mouthed.
"To which school you and your brother will go when the holidays end?" he suddenly asked.
I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for the casual feel of the question.
We were going back to class in two weeks, unfortunately. Or fortunately, if it could prevent me from wandering around all day with him just next door.
"We'll both go to... I think it's called Belmont Hall," I replied, unsure of myself.
"That's where I'm going too."
Ah. So much for trying to avoid him. But I couldn't deny that deep inside, the news actually pleased me. Moreover, I'd fancied I'd heard a bit of approval in his voice when he'd answered.
I didn't like the fact that my heart was pounding fast against my ribcage just by being near him, and I wished he'd gone on asking questions. It would have help keeping me distracted. But he was staying silent, and I hesitated. Either I joined my family and Rose, or I took upon myself to reignite the conversation.
I chose the second option.
"Can I ask you something?" I said on an uneasy tone. Unseasy because I knew there was a chance my query wouldn't be well met. But I was curious.
"Sure," he assured me, sounding like he meant it.
I held back for an instant, but eventually decided it wasn't such a horrible question to ask. And yet I couldn't bring myself to look at him when I spoke. "Why do you live with your grandmother?"
And as soon as the words were out, I wanted to reclaim them. 'God, please don't tell me you're an orphan…'
He took a few seconds before answering but when he did he didn't sound angry. "My brother and I came to live with her after our parents got a divorce five years ago."
It sounded like a ready-made sentence he'd delivered quite a few times in the past, but at least his eyes didn't turn icy and it satisfied my curiosity, though only in part. Still he was being polite but I knew I had hit a sensitive nerve, and I wasn't about to push my luck.
I was searching for something else to say when some melody could suddenly be heard over the music playing in the background. It sounded like a bird chirping… And it was coming from Matthew.
Lovin' you, is easy 'cause you're beautiful…
My eyes widened a fraction and my brows drew together as I shot him a very dubious look. He looked just as perplexed as me, if not more. Once he was over his initial surprise he reached for his pocket, and it was clear then that the song was coming from his cell phone.
"Hum… Excuse-me…" he mumbled at me before withdrawing back into the dining room, frowning at his phone as he did.
"Damn it, Dom, stop changing my ringtones," was the first thing he said when answering.
I turned away and had to bite my lower lip to avoid bursting out laughing. Hell, I hadn't seen this one coming.
Despite my best intentions I realised I was trying to eavesdrop on him, but he walked further inside the room and the music playing covered most of his conversation. But I managed to catch some of it.
"…Do you want me to bring the record?... I can be here in half an hour or so…"
I felt a pang of disappointment when I heard that. That meant he wouldn't spend the rest of the evening with us.
"And don't open the bottle until I'm here," he was saying, his voice getting clearer now that he was coming back to my side. "Mmmh. Yes, well, I know you," he chuckled. "'Kay, see you later."
He turned to me once he'd hung up. "Sorry, I have to go," he told me with a smile. The phone call seemed to have lightened his mood. Substantially so.
"Okay," I simply answered, torn between the pleasure of seeing him smile and the picking- and disconcerting- upset of knowing he was about to leave.
"I'll try not to wake you when I come home this time," he added, eyes teasing, before disappearing into the hallway leading to the stairs.
I caught myself smiling after him and I quickly forced myself to sober up. What was I doing? I was supposed to be mad at him for what had happened the night before.
I stood from the doorframe and joined the others outside. My mother's eyes met mine briefly and she smiled. I smiled back and sat on the closest chair, trying to ease into whatever they were talking about. But before I could grasp the topic Matthew came in sight again, a black backpack hanging off his shoulder.
He placed one hand on Rose's shoulder and leaned down to peck her forehead. "I'm off to Chris' place," he told her.
She patted his hand. "Alright, try not to come home too late."
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Sure."
By the look on Rose's face, I could tell she wasn't duped. But still she smiled. She'd probably known what his answer would be beforehand, but she'd had to say it just the same.
He politely- almost shyly- bid my family goodnight and just before he turned around, when I was the only one still looking at him, when I was starting to think he was going to leave without another glance at me, his eyes flicked to mine.
"'Night, Jade," he said quietly.
My name skimmed from his lips like a caress and heat instantly rolled over my skin, hitting a nerve I didn't even know was there before. I stared at him, unable to answer, my brain jellified. The tiny smirk plastered on his face was the last thing I saw of him before he turned around.
I blinked dumbly into the cool, summer evening air. Okay, something was very wrong with me. I had no idea where this weird, ridiculous chemistry was coming from, but it had to cease. Since when did I start losing my ability to speak when a guy said my name? Since when did I start blushing like a schoolgirl every five seconds?
Gaze lost in the flame of the little candle standing in the centre of the small wooden table, I was too moonstruck to participate to the conversations around me. The others could have been speaking in Greek, truly it wouldn't have made such a difference.
When my own phone vibrated in my pocket, it scared the crap out of me, and I jolted in my chair. Fuck, twice in two days.
Alex chuckled at my reaction and I couldn't help smiling. "Sorry," I muttered, chuckling as well.
I stood up and took a couple of steps away from the table before answering.
"Hello?"
"Hey, love, it's me."
I froze for a second.
Jack! My hand flew to my forehead. Dammit, I had completely forgotten to call him. Guilt swelled in me, it'd been only two days since I'd last seen him and I was already mooning over another guy…
"Hey, sweetheart," I said softly, too softly. "How are you?"
In my back I heard Rose call her grandson angrily for some reason, and I walked further away from the table, covering the ear that wasn't against the phone with my hand. I went deeper in the garden, out of sight.
And while I chatted with my boyfriend, I tried really hard to get Matthew's smirk out of my mind... With mitigated success.
title: Map of the problematic + 'Feral Love' - Chelsea Wolfe
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