Twenty.
He comes in, and Mum waves bye, slamming the door behind her. Hovering by the front door, with his hands shoved deep in his jeans, I consider letting him wait. But I'm running on the last of my reserves, so I gesture for him to come and sit at the table.
He's sheepish and doesn't look any better than he did at school, slumped and strained, as if he's holding up the sky with his shoulders.
He pulls out a chair at the table, leaving the space next to me on the settee. The peeling, floral wallpaper and paisley carpet (that's older than me), come into sharp relief, Cullen a magnifying class to everything that's wrong with it. I could do with more space between us. He takes up too much with his brooding silence, but all we have is the lounge that's the kitchen, that's the dining room—this is as spacious as it gets.
I turn the volume down on the TV, news headlines showing screaming rioters and buildings turned to fireballs dominate the screen. The whole world is going to shit.
"You've got about fifteen minutes before she comes back," I say.
He nods and sits forward, elbows balanced on the formica table, fingers raked through his hair. I don't offer him a drink because I'm worried it'll turn out all I can give him is water, sour milk, or gin.
"I'm so fucking sorry, Bella."
It's a start, but not enough.
I stay quiet. Let him see how he uses the rope Mum's afforded him.
"I didn't want them to think I was with you … that we were together or anything."
"We're not." He rubs his hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the table top. "Together or anything," I add.
He swallows, and I should really get him a drink. I don't move.
"I know, but you don't understand. I had to do it."
"Why?" I pull my knees closer, sinking deeper into the lumpy couch.
"Look, Jay isn't the kind of person you want knowing your name."
"And humiliating me in front of everyone was the way to go?"
His knee is vibrating the floorboard with nerves. I want to reach out and put my hand on it. "No, probably not, but I panicked … He shouldn't be around here."
"No? How come?"
He sighs, tipping his head up to the ceiling swirled with artex and stained yellow with smoke. "Because last time we crossed paths he was in juvie for dealing."
I slide one foot onto the floor, grounding myself for the shitstorm. "And you know that because he's a friend? You visited him?"
"Yeah and no."
I wrinkle my nose at his bullshit explanation.
"He's bad news. I don't want him to know about you."
"To know what about me?" I yell, frustration shooting my words like arrows.
"That you're my friend," he deflects.
"Why would he care?"
"Because that's who he is. He takes what he wants, and doesn't give a shit who he takes it from."
"I'm going to pretend you're not talking about me like I'm some sort of fucking object."
"Shit. Fuck." He drops his head onto his hands. "That's not what I mean."
"Then what?"
"Bella, I like you … and I don't want him to fucking know that, okay? He'll use it against me. Use you."
His admission bounces around the silence, sped up by the way he's looking at me.
"Who is he?" I say, dodging any rebounds until I'm ready for them.
"He's someone from my past. Someone who thinks I owe him things."
"And do you?"
His silence tells me enough.
"I'm sorry, Bella. I shouldn't have said those things. I fucked up, but it was from a good place."
I hear my mum's key rattle in the door. Cullen's attention swings to it, then back to me, crumpled and worn. "Okay," I say. "For now."
His looks at his hands for a second, then jumps up, somehow full of the charm I've missed, and offers to take the food from my mum.
She's beaming. "Thank you. I've brought an extra portion of chips, thought you might like to stay for tea?" Mum bustles about getting plates and cutlery without mentioning she'd already asked me to do it.
Cullen flashes a silent question at me. I should ask him to go so I can have a second to sort through his explanation—and holes burning through it—but the thing is, I like him, too. Despite everything.
I want to know what's going on in his head, what's brought him here to my door, who he really is. I'm determined to find out, so I let him know it's okay to stay with a nod.
Being around people who dance with danger isn't daring or unusual for me, it's part of life. And I'm starting to wonder whether I've found a kindred spirit, someone who can survive in the flames without getting burnt. I just hope he didn't start the fire.
AN: You guys are making me smile. Thanks for reading and for all the reviews and recs, esp the flailing on FB. Girls you know who you are! Thank you. xx