Everyone was so convinced that she hated him, and she had no desire to contradict them. It was so much easier this way. They could explore their feelings for each other without any additional outside pressures. The funniest part was they didn't even really need to change anything on the outside. They still went places together, ate together, trained together, fought together, just as they always had. What was missed by the nosy family and crazy acquaintances was that they were crazy in love. They were together because they liked being together. They fought so they might make up later. Her sisters saw them yelling, but never kissing, running to school, but never holding hands. Saw them arguing, but missed them helping each other. Saw their strife, but not their love. It wasn't unusual for them to start out studying in her room and finish by making out on her bed. It was the nature of their relationship. At sixteen, she didn't did want more than that. At sixteen she'd take her jerk with a heart of gold and their clandestine love.
Their dislike for one another only went so far. Apparently, loving and hating are the flip sides of the same coin. No one knew that all her errands took her here, were because they couldn't get enough of each other. No one could know, well, maybe his sister, but no one believed her anyway. They asked no questions of the other and expected no answers. Sometimes she wondered how this was all going to shake out. No matter. Right now, all she wanted was more of him.
She made excuses and read more books than she had time for, so she'd have another reason to go there. Such a kind man, he always took care of her sisters. Somehow, he took some of the burden of motherhood from her young shoulders. He was reliable, someone who could be trusted. He had that one problem, though. She wasn't sure how he was so good at his job when he seemed so…distracted sometimes. Her little sister assured her that this reaction was reserved for her presence. She certainly noticed that when she visited him and he had no patients, he could focus on something else, like cleaning, and he could talk. They talked about the book she'd borrowed, or how her sisters were doing. Sometimes she would catch his eyes on her and she'd feel the heat in her cheeks. She wasn't sure what had pushed her to be so forward, that time. He had been so close, the fog taking over his face. She was rather frustrated with him, really, and hoped to shock him with her kiss. She was not expecting it to literally knock him out. When he came to, he seemed a little more focused than before, and so she had kissed him again, right there on the floor. She teased him that perhaps she should become his doctor for this particular ailment. Her treatments seemed to be effective. No one in the house saw her small smile. No one in the house knew that she was doctoring the doctor. They all thought her so naïve, clueless, dense. It was fun to have a secret from them.
She knew their secrets. She knew but tucked them away for future analysis and possible exploitation. She knew enough to keep her father in the dark about her younger sister's non-hate of the boy she was formally engaged to and not tell him about her older sister's frequent doctor's appointments. She also knew that none of them knew about her secret, and that's the way it would stay. She knew that her father still mourned her mother, but that he didn't pull away quite fast enough when her English teacher grabbed his arm. She knew many things about many people. Knowledge is power, they say. Information is currency. Tidbits had value and she knew what they were worth. Their exploitation was a matter of timing.