Chapter 8: Sure Can't Help Her None
Slamming the door behind her, Neela trampled into the living room, muttering to herself and immediately bumped into something; or possibly someone.
"Hey, Doctor Neela"
She shot a quick glare at the intruder, "Hello, Bret."
"Rough day?" He asked casually with a smirk firmly in place.
"Why do you say that?" She asked and carelessly moved past him into the kitchen.
Sensing the sarcasm in her voice his smirk grew even wider, "You don't seem very happy to see me?"
"Now what would give you that idea." She stated and let out an annoyed sounding sigh.
"Do you always answer questions with a rhetorical question?" A satisfied pleasure rose within him as she became even more frantic in search for something to eat.
"Do you always ask this many questions?" She shot back, immediately standing upright and glaring at him with every once of anger inside her.
"So… is this one you actually want me to answer?" He chucked lightly and continued to gaze at her.
"I give up." With a defeated sigh, she moves to leave the kitchen. Not quick enough though.
Bret quickly moves between her and the doorway with a smug expression planted on his face.
Suddenly stopping and even more annoyed, "Why are you looking at me like that."
He silently pretends to contemplate for a second before giving in, "How am I looking at you?"
Neela's glare intensified, "Like you're very amused by this situation."
He kept eyes firmly on her and took a leisurely sip of his beer, "It's sort of hard not to be."
Deciding not to waste any more energy arguing, she carelessly grabbed his beer and took a quick sip. "What are you doing here anyway? Ray isn't even home."
"Maybe I'm not here to see Ray." He took the bottle back after seeing the disgusted look on her face after swallowing.
Her evil glare quickly returned.
"Hey, relax. It was a joke." He chanted, attempting to play it nonchalance.
"Yes. Thanks for that." She silently shook her head at his antics and positioned herself comfortably on the couch.
"What's bothering you?" He asked, hoping she'd sense his genuine concern.
"You mean besides you?" she retorted but smiled in spite of herself.
Setting the bottle down on the table, he placed himself at the other end of the couch. "You were angry at the world before you even knew I was in the apartment."
She reluctantly sat up and looked him directly in the eyes, "I'm not angry at the bloody world, just…" but quickly stops herself as he raises his eyebrows.
He watches her head towards her bedroom but quickly catches up, "Come on, your secret is safe with me."
Grudgingly she turns around, immediately yelling in his face, "Ray! Okay? I'm mad at Ray! I said it. Can you get out of my way now?"
"Ahh." Casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded, understanding dawns on him.
"Don't." She's no longer yelling, but the coldness in her voice is apparent.
"Excuse me?" He asked, genuinely confused.
"Don't be a smart ass." She clarifies and continues to move toward her bedroom.
"Really? Because it suits me so well." He plasters a fake smile on his face, hoping to get a kinder reaction from her.
"Can we just stop this, please?" she begs, defeated.
"Okay, I'm sorry." With his hands in the air, he backs away. "Where are you going?"
"To my bedroom." She states dramatically and silently adds, "Where does it look like."
"Wait. Wait. Slow down." He gracefully wraps an arm around her waist and carefully sets his drink on the table.
"Bret, what are you--" she starts to ask, genuinely shocked.
"I have a better idea." He says slowly.
"I beg your pardon?" Not for a second buying into his innocence smile.
"Get your mind out of the gutter." He pauses.
"Relax. Sit down. Kick off your shoes." He said while pointing to the couch.
"Why should I?"
"Because I know you don't dislike me nearly as much as you pretend. And I know you don't want to hurt my feelings."
She grudgingly sits down and eyes him curiously as glides around the apartment.
He quickly inserts a CD, grabs a bottle of whiskey, 2 shot glasses and sits down next to her.
"Have you ever listened to Rob Johnson before?" he asks innocently, "a blues artist…"
"Are you serious?"
"I didn't think so." He said easily and comfortably situated himself next to her.
"I always play this CD when I'm pissed at Ray."
"Yeah? Does it help?"
"Why else would I be playing it for you?" he grins easily.
"Oh, I don't know…" she smirks and looks skeptically at him, "Some half-assed attempt to get in my pants?"
"Well, you sure think highly of yourself, don't you?" he asks wide-eyed in fake mockery.
Neela laughs lightly and lazily kicks off her shoes.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, neither quite knowing what to say.
Finally, Bret turns to her and says defiantly, "We're going to play a game."
Neela lets out a short laugh, "You are completely off your bird."
"Did you just say off your bird?" he asks, with obvious surprise in his voice.
"It's all greek to me."
Author's Note: I can't believe a year has gone by since I've updated. Thank you procrastination! I think I'm back… I really want to finish this. This chapter sucks though… I'm trying to get past this writers block I guess. Bret will only be around for 1 chapter after this and then he's pretty much gone. So you can expect things to get better from here on out. Hopefully I'll stay motivated.