~A Few Days Later~
The doorbell rang and I stood up quickly from the couch.
"Who's there?" my mother yelled from upstairs.
"Nobody, mom. Don't worry about it." I pulled on a jacket and opened the door.
"Don't let them in!" she yelled as said hello to the boy at the door, "I don't need any more bastards in my house."
I smiled brightly at Tim, trying to block out my mother's yelling, "I'm going out" I called up the stairs.
"What? To hell you are!"
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, smiling even brighter.
Tim looked at me, "Um…" he looked at the closed door, "Are you sure that—"
"She's just upset because she'll have to make her own dinner" I smiled and laced my arm in between his turning him so we could walk down the stairs. I stopped, "Where's Alfred?"
"I thought it would be nicer if we walked. Is that alright?" He said, trudging through the wet grass that led from my house to the sidewalk.
"Of course" I said, "Where are we going?"
"To tell you the truth" he said, "I don't know."
I looked at him, "You don't know?"
"I know it's not normal but I figured we could just walk around and talk. Maybe sit down at a café or something…" His eyes closed in an embarrassed smile.
I laughed, "Ok"
We walked for awhile, not really knowing where we were going. He was good company and I like talking to him. Sometimes we would both go quiet, but we enjoyed the silence. It was a nice reprieve from my noisy household. We passed by a deli and he asked if I'd been there before.
I told him 'no' so we went in and sat at a window seat. I removed my jacket and he did the same, returning his hands to his pockets. Where they'd been all afternoon.
"Are your hands cold?" I asked.
"Hmm?" he said, looking up from the menu, "Yeah."
"Here are your drinks" the waitress said.
"Thank you"
She walked off.
I reached for my glass when Tim started speaking. I looked up, but didn't realize my hand knocked over the glass. It crashed to the floor, spilling everywhere, the glass breaking. He reached down and started to pick up the glass.
"I'm so sorry!" I said, turning red with embarrassment.
The waitress hobbled over with a dustpan and washcloth. "It's alright, no harm done" she said with a smile as Tim handed her the rest of the glass. She mopped up the spilled drink and walked off into the kitchen. I tried to hide behind my hands when Tim started laughing.
"Don't be mean" I said, my cheeks burning.
He chuckled, "That was actually really funny. Your face was adorable."
He wasn't making it any better, my face just grew hotter, "Oh my gosh. Your hand" I said.
"It's just a scratch" he said, smiling. Thanking god the two cuts on his fingers were on his right hand instead of the burned one.
We walked back that night in the cold spring air. The crickets were loud, but peaceful. He wouldn't stop teasing me. He laughed and I blushed for the fiftieth time that night, smiling slightly. The street-side grew quiet again and I reached for his hand. But my smile fell when he pulled away.
"Sorry" he said, "My hand hurts."
I was too airheaded to realize that it was the wrong hand because he'd wrapped his arm lightly around my waist instead, keeping me warm in the cold night's air.