Sins of our Fathers
Chapter Two
Peter was sick.
And Davian felt useless.
His illness was an abrupt onslaught, striking him down with unexpected ferocity. His skin turned as pale as fresh snow. Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking his collar, and his brown eyes were glazed over with fever. He was shaking, occasional spasms wracking his body as if he was struggling against an unseen force
Just like his mother.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
Crossing his hands behind his head, Davian let out a soft sigh as he watched Peter struggling with the fever.
"You look terrible," Davian noted, handing him a glass of water, his eyebrows knitted together.
Peter took the offering with shaking hands. "Thanks, Doctor Obvious," he replied weakly, trying to force a smile, but his pale complexion swallowed the gesture.
"I've been called worse." Davian shrugged with a smirk.
"I bet," Peter's shaky voice tried to match Davian's humor. He managed a chuckle before falling into a fit of harsh coughs.
"Take it easy, Pete." Davian advised, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You don't have to waste energy entertaining me."
"Someone has to...keep your ego...in check," Peter returned between coughs, punctuating his sentence with a precarious grin.
Shaking his head, Davian leaned back, the ghost of a smile curling his lips. "My ego's the least of your worries."
"Yeah...Sure," Peter murmured before drifting off into a fever-induced slumber, the room descending into a quietude broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the soft, labored breaths of the sleeping teen.
Peter's phone vibrated on the nightstand, the small sound echoing louder in the silent room. A name flashed across the screen - a name that sparked a wave of amusement in Davian: 'Mary Jane ❤️.'
Peter's hand shot out to clumsily bury the phone under his pillow, but the fever had slowed his reactions, and he couldn't escape Davian's hawk-eyed gaze.
"Gwen told me you managed to get MJ's number," Davian's voice filled the room, laced with a hint of laughter. "I didn't think it was possible."
In truth, he had known long before Gwen had found out, and the scorned woman's reaction was a thing of beauty.
Peter's face morphed into a sheepish expression, a flustered grin appearing on his lips. "Well, it's not like it fell into my lap."
"No, in reality, it took a spectacular nose fall and a trampled rose bush," Davian smirked back, nodding toward the window that faced the house next door. Behind the glass of his neighbor's house was where the radiant MJ had moved in just a month ago.
Peter followed his gaze, his expression reflecting fond amusement. "Oh, come on, you're not going to bring that up?"
"Peter, you spent a week limping after your 'floral misadventure,'" Davian countered, his eyes alight with laughter. "I'd say that warrants a mention."
Peter groaned, his head flopping back onto the pillow. He covered his blushing face with his hands after a second, groaning. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Absolutely not."
A chance to rib his best friend over his fumbling attempts at wooing the new girl next door was always needed.
The room fell silent for a few moments while Peter managed to construct a coherent reply to MJ's message. His fingers awkwardly handled the phone, his concentration completely consumed by the tiny screen.
Out of the blue, Peter spoke, his voice echoing in the silence, "What about you and Felicia?"
"What about her?" Davian instantly responded, masking his surprise with a nonchalant shrug.
"Oh, come on," Peter retorted, his voice sounding distinctly stronger. "Don't play dumb with me."
"What's there to tell?" Davian shrugged again, leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes. "Felicia is... Felicia."
Peter made a skeptical noise. "She practically threw herself at you during our field trip. And don't tell me you haven't noticed it in school, too."
Davian let out a scoff, waving Peter's comment away. "Hardy's attention span is as consistent as New York weather."
Peter's grin only widened at Davian's deflection, amusement radiating from his eyes. "Oh, come on, Davian. She was all over you. It's like she found a shiny new toy."
"Peter, Felicia being 'all over' someone is as ordinary as sunrise," Davian argued, trying to wave off his friend's teasing. Felicia's flirting was infamous throughout the school, and he was not an exception to her antics.
Persevering, Peter pushed further, "You mean to tell me there's nothing going on?"
"Absolutely nothing," Davian confirmed. But Peter was not easily convinced.
"I hope you're telling the truth..." Peter sighed, glancing at Davian, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
"Why's that?" Davian asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend.
"Because," Peter grumbled, "If Felicia were interested in you, maybe she'd leave me alone."
Davian choked out a laugh at his remark, the last of the tension ebbing away, "Believe me, Peter, that is never going to happen."
Any hope for a continued conversation was short-lived as a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Peter called out, his voice weak yet cheerful.
Davian eyes glanced to the door, expecting to find Gwen stepping through the door and finally checking on Peter.
The girl had been quiet in more than ways than one.
The door creaked open, and a familiar old face peeked in instead.
Uncle Ben.
Davian's expression instantly tightened.
Where the hell was Gwen?
Uncle Ben cleared his throat, his kindly eyes hardening. "I'm sorry to interrupt, boys, but it's still a weekday," he said gently, addressing Davian with a stern look, "And Davian, you need to get going to school."
Davian's mouth opened to protest, but Uncle Ben held up a hand, "No yapping, young man. Peter won't rest until you're out of this room."
Although he was reluctant to leave, Davian knew better and nodded towards Peter.
"Take care, Parker," he said, his voice low.
Ben held the door for him, a sympathetic smile on his face, and closed the door with a gentle click after he left.
As the door closed, Davian turned to Ben with worry painted on his face. "Did Gwen stop by?"
Ben shook his head. "Haven't seen her today. A bit unlike her, isn't it?"
The answer had Davian puzzled. It was odd for Gwen not to visit Peter when he was sick. He suspected it had something to do with Peter's recent interactions with MJ, but he decided not to share this with Uncle Ben.
That was a problem for the three of them to figure out.
"I'll see her at school," Davian finally said, trying to brush his concern under the carpet, "I'll talk to her."
Uncle Ben nodded at that and walked him to the door of the house. Davian slipped on his coat and turned back to the older man. "Keep me updated about Peter's condition, okay?"
Uncle Ben gave him an understanding smile. "Will do, lad. Now off you go."
With a final nod, Davian stepped out into the chilly autumn morning, worried thoughts about his friends marring his usually peaceful walk to school.
I==I
As soon as Davian set foot outside, a sudden crack of thunder was followed by a cascade of rain pouring down from the overcast sky.
With a resigned sigh, he pulled up the hood of his jacket, a shield against the relentless rainfall. He slid a water-resistant gaiter over his face, adding an extra layer of protection.
A quick glance was cast down the street towards Gwen's house. His eyes searched for her usual mode of transportation, a quaint little blue Prius; the only car that usually sat in her driveway was missing.
This was getting out of hand.
And he was starting to get pissed off.
Gwen's tantrum was probably the cause of her ghosting their calls and messages. But her missing car and the fact that she hadn't shown up to their agreed-upon carpool told him that she was in the depths of her mood.
It was incredibly frustrating.
With no other option, Davian walked, covering a good bit of a mile before reaching a stop light. A shiny red Ford Mustang pulled up next to him, the music from the stereo barely piercing the sound of the falling rain.
The window slowly rolled down to reveal MJ, looking warm and cozy within the cocoon of her heated vehicle. She greeted him with a twinkle in her eye, completely contrasting the gloomy weather. "Fancy seeing you here, Davian."
Taking note of his soaked state, she offered, "You're heading to school. Want a ride, or do you actually prefer drowning out here in the rain?"
Davian shot a glance towards the ominous dark clouds looming above them. The prospect of walking in this weather felt miserable. His gaze shifted back to MJ, and a faint shrug rolled off his shoulders.
Without waiting for a verbal confirmation, MJ unlocked the passenger door. "Come on in before you catch a cold."
Climbing into the warm, dry interior of the Mustang was heavenly. The rain became a distant echo as they drove away, the storm outside contrasting the warm cocoon inside MJ's car.
"So I heard about Peter. How's he doing?" MJ asked, the simplicity of her words painting the depth of her concern.
"He's seen better days. Fever and shaky as a leaf." Davian sighed, his gaze focused on the windshield where the rain was a mere patter against the glass. "He'll be fine."
As they continued their journey, MJ glanced at Davian. "And Gwen?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. "Has she checked on him?"
Davian regarded MJ with a careful eye, his intuition tingling.
Was it just idle curiosity, or was there more beneath that nonchalant question?
"Why do you ask?" he queried, cautiously situating himself in this new dynamic.
MJ shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. "Gwen always hangs around Peter. I just assumed she'd be nursing him back to health by now."
Davian's silence stretched out another moment before he answered, "Well, sometimes assumptions can be wrong."
She shot him a sidelong glance, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, "That sounds mysterious."
Davian shrugged, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, "We all need a dash of mystery in our lives."
"So, no comment about Gwen?"
"Correct," Davian affirmed, ending the conversation with an air of finality.
But MJ was relentless.
"Come on," MJ pleaded, a gleam in her eye, "Maybe there's something I can give you in return for some secrets."
She shot him a glance, her lips twisting into an alluring smirk that spoke of mischief and challenge. Davian, however, wasn't taken by her friendly demeanor, his eyes meeting hers for a brief second before drifting away to watch the rain-soaked streets pass by.
"MJ," he began, his voice steady and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in MJ's mind. "Do yourself a favor. Worry less about Gwen and more about Peter."
She went silent, taken aback by Davian's frankness.
"Davian..." she started, her tone a mix of surprise and irritation.
"I get it, MJ," he said, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket, "curiosity gets the better of us. But right now... Peter needs all the support he can get. Let Gwen be Gwen. She'll come around."
MJ sighed in response, her shoulders slumping back against the driver's seat. "Yeah," she mumbled finally, "Right."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of rain hitting the windshield the only noise in the car. Their journey was almost done, the looming edifice of Midtown High School drawing closer through the rain-soaked windshield.
MJ finally broke the silence, her voice soft as they pulled up to the school. "Thanks for the advice, Davian."
"Speaking of advice."
Davian turned to face her, leaning in just enough so that the distance between them shrunk, his vibrant eyes locked onto hers. There was an intensity in his gaze that caught MJ off-guard, making her heart flutter in her chest.
"There's something I want you to understand," he began, his voice steady yet filled with a gravitas that immediately seized her attention.
MJ swallowed hard, her turquoise eyes widening as the atmosphere in the car tightened. Davian hadn't moved except for leaning slightly towards her. But with his focused gaze and serious demeanor, he had managed to evoke a tingling sense of fear and anticipation within her.
His gaze searched hers, an intensity radiating from him that she had not expected. He matched her eye contact, never blinking or looking away.
"There are only three things I care about in this life. My mom," he lifted a finger, "Gwen," another finger came up, "and Peter." A third finger joined the other two, like silent sentinels reinforcing his solemn declaration. "If you do anything... anything at all, to disrupt the peace in their lives... you will not appreciate the consequences."
The air in the car seemed to stiffen, her heart hammering loudly in the silence.
"Are you threatening me?" she mustered up the courage to ask, even as uncertainty gnawed at the edges of her bravado.
Davian shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't make threats, MJ," he said matter-of-factly, "I make guarantees."
She believed him.
A shiver ran down MJ's spine, his confident assertion enough to stun her into silence. She crossed her arms defensively, "I thought we were cool."
A moment of silence passed between them before Davian finally broke it, "One day, we might be being 'cool.' Today... isn't that day."
With that, he reached for the door handle, pushing it open just as a loud clap of thunder echoed across the sky. The sudden sound made the car shake subtly, intensifying the dramatic moment. The rain outside seemed like an unending river of silver threads falling from the heavens.
Bracing himself, Davian stepped out, pulling his hood over his head and facing the storm head-on. Leaving MJ behind, he walked away, his silhouette gradually disappearing in the downpour.
For a moment, MJ remained still, watching Davian disappear into the school building. His words echoed in her mind, leaving her to wonder.
One thing was clear - Davian Alrek was not someone to cross lightly.
I==I
Davian spotted Gwen as soon as he walked into the cafeteria after lunch. She was at her usual spot, seated with Liz Allen and Ava Alaya. Two girls Gwen shared a friendly rapport with.
However, Davian's gaze flickered with annoyance when he saw the additional company they had. A few football players were squeezed into their table, the conspicuous Flash of a letterman jacket making one familiar face stand out - Flash Thompson.
Davian rolled his eyes. Just what he needed.
"Can I talk to you?" Davian's tone cut through the cafeteria noise, his words jabbing into the friendly banter at Gwen's table. His question wasn't really a request, more like an order veiled behind courtesy.
Gwen turned to look at him, her beautiful eyes narrowing, "Can't it wait, Davian?"
Then, displaying a clear disregard for his interruption, she returned her attention to the table. "Anyway, I was saying-" she resumed, her casual tone irking him further.
"Now, Gwen." This time, Davian's voice held an edge to it, a low growl that forced Gwen to halt mid-sentence.
Ava darted into the tense moment like a flashfire. "Hey, there's no need to be so pushy, Davian."
Liz readily backed Ava, smirking in a way that chafed at Davian's already-wearing patience. "Yeah. She has more company besides you and comic book boy, ya know."
Davian shot them both a look, his patience thinning to its tether. "I need to talk to Gwen. So, if you don't mind-"
But another interruption swiftly followed a grating voice that belonged to no other than Flash Thompson. "Well, we do mind."
Flash stood up straight, his bulk forming a wall between Davian and Gwen. "Who do you think you are, Alrek? You can't just walk in here and throw orders around."
Davian's eyes made a deliberate sweep of Flash, looking almost unimpressed by the aggressive display before him. "Oh, Flash," Davian drawled, his tone dripping with equal parts irritation and amusement, "When did you appoint yourself Gwen's personal protector?"
Flash's cheeks turned a shade of red. "I don't protect her. She doesn't need anyone for that. But she does need protection from freaks like you. "
Davian's gaze went back to Gwen, who was quietly observing the back and forth between the two men. Her silence only served to fuel Davian's irritation.
"Are you threatening me, Thompson?" Davian queried, an exaggerated gasp appended to his words.
Flash squinted at him, "Take it as you like."
Frustration creeping into his tone, Davian shot back at Flash, "And I'd hate for the football team to lose their star quarterback so early in the season because of a broken throwing arm."
A collective gasp echoed around the table, a few pairs of eyes widening at the audacity of Davian's statement.
One of Flash's friends, Rory, a bulky linebacker, piped up, "Hey, you can't talk to Flash like that, nerd."
"Can't I?"
Davian's question was unnerving in its calmness, his gaze firmly locked onto Flash, challenging him. A couple of the other football players exchanged glances, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
Normally, no one dared to challenge Flash, let alone threaten him.
But Davian was anything but normal.
Flash, however, didn't back down. His dark eyes glared at Davian, and his fists balled on the table. "You're all talk, Alrek. Go ahead and try it."
Davian gave a vague smile, tilting his head to the side as he studied Flash. The football player bristled under the gaze, his jaw clenching.
He was very tempted to make a believer out of Thompson.
Throughout the exchange, Gwen had remained silent, observing the brewing storm between the two young men. But enough was enough. With a graceful yet forceful motion, she abruptly stood resolute, placing herself between Davian and Flash.
"Alright, that's enough!" Gwen commanded, her voice ringing clear and loud enough to break the rising tension. Her stern gaze shifted from Davian to Flash. She had a knack for always being the voice of reason.
The onlookers held their breath, all eyes glued to the scene. Gwen's intervention was like the interlude in a gripping stage play, her figure standing with formidable courage.
Flash bristled at her interference, ready to challenge it. Davian, on the other hand, maintained his stoic facade, calmly studying Gwen for any sign of fluctuation.
"Gwen, he started this-" Flash began, but Gwen immediately cut him off.
"I don't care who started what." She shot a frosty glance at Flash, silencing his protest. "I won't allow a stupid argument to boil over into a fight, not in the middle of the school."
Turning to Davian, she softened her tone slightly, "And you," she began, her gaze softening from icy ice to a warmer hue, "Can we have a word now?"
Davian returned her gaze, a subtle nod being his only affirmation.
"Good." With that, she turned her back to the astounded group, her gaze meeting Davian's for a fleeting moment before she began walking away, clearly expecting him to follow.
Given a choice between Gwen's ire and Flash's ego, Davian decidedly prioritized Gwen. Without offering any response to the disgruntled teammates, he turned on his heel and followed Gwen's retreating figure.
They journeyed into a rarely visited corner of the school, its seclusion providing an appropriate setting for the brewing storm between them.
"I don't appreciate you stirring trouble at school," she began, her voice stern and disapproving.
Davian shot her a look, "And I don't appreciate you rubbing shoulders with Flash."
Gwen took a step back, surprised by his sharpness. "I was not rubbing shoulders with Flash. Liz and Ava are my friends."
"Well, Gwen, in case it has somehow slipped past your notice, Flash and his jock buddies torment Peter any chance they get." Davian retorted, "Whether you hang around them willingly or not, that paints you guilty by association."
Silence fell between them, broken only by their breathing and echoing footsteps in the distance.
"Guilty by association?" Gwen scoffed at his allegation. "Since when did you put people on trial?"
"I haven't put you on trial yet, Gwen." Davian countered, struggling to keep his tone composed, "I just want to know why you were with Flash."
Before she could come up with a retort, he added, "And why the hell have you not been answering my calls?"
His question hung in the balance. Neither of them seemed to know what the next move in their spur-of-the-moment dance was. It had become a game of mental chess.
And Gwen seemed utterly unsure how to handle it.
The silence stretched between them as Gwen composed herself, maintaining her defiant posture, though her eyes reflected a hint of vulnerability.
"I was going to ask Peter to the school dance," she admitted quietly, her gaze flickering to the ground. "But he'd already asked... he'd already asked MJ, and she... she agreed."
Davian was taken aback. He was aware of Peter's growing fondness for MJ, but he had not expected Peter to act on it so soon. A wave of guilt washed over Davian, dampening his anger at Gwen.
"So that's it?" Davian asked, his tone less accusing now, more sympathetic. "You were mad because Peter asked MJ to the fucking school dance?"
Gwen's response was a tiny nod, her silence confirming his suspicion.
"And the phone calls?" Davian couldn't resist pushing further.
Gwen matched his gaze, her emerald eyes shimmering almost painfully. "Someone else asked me to the dance...while you were...busy with Felicia."
Davian stared at Gwen, his mind flooded with a myriad of emotions.
Yes, it was common knowledge that Gwen had her admirers. Being a beautiful and smart girl was already a deadly combination.
But the expression on Gwen's face was far from triumphant or overjoyed, as anyone would expect from a girl just asked out for a dance. Instead, she looked guilt-ridden, like she bore the burden of a heavy secret.
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Her usual vibrant hazel eyes looked dull, and her usually bouncy hair lacked its typical shine.
In the back of his mind, something started worrying him. It was chewing at the edges of his consciousness, gnawing and gnashing until a question burst forth from him.
"Who asked you to the dance?" he found himself asking, dread sinking into his gut like a stone in deep water.
Gwen met his questioning look, her expression a strange mix of guilt, anger, and defiance. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before the name that Davian had dreaded slipped out.
"Flash... Flash asked me to the dance."
His world came to a stuttering halt at Gwen's revelation. He suddenly felt energized, almost livid. "And you said yes?" He all but growled at her, feeling betrayed.
Gwen didn't respond immediately, but when she did, her voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah. I said yes."
The words "I said yes" echoed in the silent hallway, ripping through Davian's calm facade. A tidal wave of anger boiled within him, distorting his features into a grimace of disbelief.
Gwen's eyes held a strange sort of sadness, regret seeping into her words but failing to lighten the weight they carried. "I... I didn't know what to do, Davian. I saw Peter with MJ, and I..."
Her voice trailed off, her gaze avoiding Davian's scathing one. She looked lost, her normal fierce personality doused by regret and helplessness.
Expecting some roaring rebuttal, Gwen winced when Davian spoke, his voice low and eerily calm in contrast to his outraged expression.
"You didn't know what to do?" His words were laced with sarcasm. "So, you decided to say 'yes' to a jerk who bullies Peter?"
Gwen tried to interject, her voice shaking slightly, "Davian, I..."
But Davian didn't let her finish, his anger washing away any sense of patience. "You know the kind of person he is, Gwen. You know what he does to Peter."
"And all of this," he gestured dramatically between them, "is because Peter found someone else he likes? All of this because of your... fucking pride!? When did you become that shallow, Gwen?"
The accusing bite in Davian's words sliced through Gwen, leaving her speechless.
After his scathing words, Davian stood, his chest heaving, his eyes boring into Gwen as if trying to make her see the gravity of her mistakes. A palpable silence hung between them, apart from the sound of heavy breathing.
Finally, after a long moment, Davian turned to go, tension radiating from his every movement. He only paused when Gwen muttered a weak "I'm sorry."
He stopped but didn't turn to look at her. His shoulders stiffened at Gwen's apology. A short, humorless laugh erupted from him before he responded. "It's not me you should be apologizing to."
"But, I-" Gwen tried to speak again, her voice shaky.
"I don't want to hear it." He snapped, cutting her off.
With that, he turned his back on her and marched down the hallway. His footsteps echoed in the abandoned corridor, a lone warrior marching off the battlefield. Gwen's stricken figure became smaller with every step he took until she was nothing more than a dot in his peripheral vision.
Fuck this day.
Exiting the school building, Davian stepped into the rain-soaked streets. His fury was a bitter taste on his tongue mixing with the tangy flavor of the air after rain.
This day was loaded with an exceptional load of crap, and Davian decided he had enough. He marched down the deserted school grounds, leaving behind the drama and heartache.
"Davian Alrek," he scoffed as he felt the raindrops pelt against his skin, "your life sure is turning into a crapfest."
"You know, talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, right?" a playful, familiar voice echoed behind him.
Davian mentally kicked himself when he heard footsteps approaching him until they came to an abrupt halt, leaving an ominous silence in their wake.
Even before turning, he knew who had joined him in these rainy streets.
"Felicia." He did not bother to hide the irritation in his voice.
The blonde-haired beauty, draped in a waterproof coat and carrying a fancy umbrella, stood beside him, her eyebrow cocked up in a teasing manner. "Oh, no 'how are you' or 'good to see you'? I'm heartbroken, Davian."
He rolled his eyes, "Cut the chit-chat, Felicia, and get to the point?"
Felicia ignored his attitude, persisting, "Did you have a fight with Gwen?"
"No," he responded curtly, trying to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, "Believe it or not, Hardy, not everything in my life revolves around Gwen."
She laughed at his denial, a genuine and pleased sound. "Just everything today."
Annoyed but secretly glad at the interruption from his self-deprecating thoughts, he shot her another sharp look, "Quit poking your nose where it doesn't belong."
"Alright, alright," Felicia chuckled again, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm backing off, Alrek. Just remember not to drown in your own misery, alright? My grace can only do so much for you."
He swiveled abruptly towards her, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, "And what would you know about grace, Felicia?"
She gave him a dramatic gasp, her gloved hand covering her heart as if stung. "You wound me."
"And yet you're still standing."
The outcome was a chorus of laughter from Felicia, her delight as irritating as chalk on a blackboard. "Oh, Davian," she said, making a show of wiping a tear from her eyes, "you always know how to make a girl feel special."
"Don't you have some rich, boring, and egotistical jocks to flirt with?"
"Aww, are you jealous?" Felicia teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Of you? Only in your dreams."
In your dreams, indeed.
I==I
Felicia watched him go. She was always one to press on nerves, but her little game hadn't improved her mood. Davian was fun to tease, but seeing him genuinely upset was less gratifying than she'd expected.
The rain continued to fall, the droplets dotting her umbrella. A contemplative sigh escaped from Felicia's lips as she watched Davian quickly become a distant silhouette.
She was a flirt, never breaking her persona with anyone. But with Davian, it felt different. His demeanor challenged her ways.
Maybe that's why she enjoyed irking him. It wasn't just to see him lose his temper but more to peek at the real Davian – the one hidden beneath the layers of patience and self-control.
"Maybe," she mumbled to herself, a wicked thought seizing her mind, "Maybe it's time for a change in tactics."
Drawing in a deep breath, Felicia raised her voice and called out, "Hey Davian!"
He came to a halt, his back still turned. "What, Hardy?" he asked his tone a mix of irritation and exasperation.
Felicia, undeterred by his tone, bobbed happily on her toes before she called out again. "I'm throwing a party this weekend. You should come."
Davian turned to face her, a skeptical eyebrow arched on his face. "A party?"
"Mmm-hmm," she confirmed, nodding as if expecting him to leap up at her offer, "A Hardy-Hill special. Saturday night."
"Saturday night?" He rolled the suggestion on his tongue, contemplation seeping into his words, "Let me guess... drinks, loud hyperactive music, stupid jocks, and flirty cheerleaders."
Felicia smirked, shifting her umbrella to her other hand. "And loads of gorgeous women. You know... the kind you like."
He tutted her, raising his eyebrow even further. "Which exactly is the kind I like, Felicia?"
She hesitated a moment, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she contemplated her next words.
"Strong, independent, brunette, single..."
Davian's eyes narrowed. It was a predictable outcome, and there was no denying that Felicia fit the description a little too well.
Dropping into silent contemplation, he rolled his shoulders, releasing a chunk of tension that had built up. "Alright. I'll make a note."
"But no promises," He added as a hasty afterthought, turning away, not waiting for her response.
Felicia looked at his retreating figure, her heart pounding a little faster than usual.
Davian Alrek was, after all, anything but boring.
I==I
As Davian sauntered down the quiet streets, his 'work' phone beeped, disturbing the steady pattern of his thoughts.
A glance at the screen heightened his curiosity, the first flutters of anticipation spreading through him. He received a new job offer after a week of inactivity.
His last assignment had left his pockets heavier by over $100,000, giving him a much-needed financial cushion. This sum was sufficient to cover his living expenses and also bear his mother's escalating medical bills for the next two months or so.
But he was well aware that his needs were constant. He was always in need of more - more money for his mother's treatments, more security for himself. And work, albeit risky at times, was the best way to garner it.
Clicking on the message, he skimmed through the details. The job type jumped out first - "Asset Retrieval".
This was something he could handle.
As he continued to read, he emerged more and more into the operative mindset - analyzing, planning, and preparing for the job at hand. This kind of work gave him something he couldn't find elsewhere - a sense of purpose and independence.
He had no idea what kind of asset they were talking about or who owned it. But for a handsome fee and a task within his ability range, he was more than willing to find out.