“Nice arse,” some immature kid decided to yell out and I sighed. I banged my forehead on the edge of the table. Did they really need to push people? It was like they wanted to fight.
Darius decided to come to my rescue, calmly and coolly saying to the kid, “The arse is spoken for, kid. Go back to your game.” He probably saw the same thing I saw: a bunch of immature teenagers. No need to cause a fight that they clearly wanted to have.
With a last tug, I managed to get the wedding ring off and turned back around, leaving Darius to finish setting up.
“There, happy?” I asked the kid as I placed the ring on my ring finger. It was big, really big, but as long as I held my hand upright, it should stay.
The kid judged the ring and then looked at me and nodded. “Well, if you’re married, you’re married. Sorry.”
It was a surprise when he turned around to walk back to his group. I looked at Adrian, telling him, “See? No need to cause a fight.”
Adrian rolled his eyes as he grabbed the chalk back from me while I placed the ring on my thumb. At least it wouldn’t fall off this finger.
I don’t know why I had decided to step in. I remember when I urged Darius to punch the guys at the café for making a remark. Maybe I was saving the kids from these two.
I could only imagine the damage they could do, and I didn’t want that. After all, the immature teens reminded me of many of my own friends back in school. It was at the age that they were immature, trying to act like men when they really had no idea how to be.
“Your turn,” Adrian called and I walked over. Right, the game.
It was after another solid ten minutes that the others returned, the noise level in the room increasing by eighty percent as those three came in.
“What took you so long?” Adrian asked, going straight for the bags they were holding. Whatever that was in the bags smelled amazing.
“Calm down, we were only gone for half an hour,” Matthew said as he checked his watch. He had gotten an actual ice bag for his bruise.
“Is it better?” I asked guiltily as I pulled his hand back to see the bruise. It looked much worse, but that was expected since the bruise was darkening, which meant all the good things, like platelets, under his skin were getting to work to heal it.
“The pain stopped, just looks nasty,” he said, voicing my opinion. I nodded. The ice should help.
“Who are they?” asked Lee ,nodding to the other table. He earned a grunt from Adrian who was busy shoving the kebab into his mouth.
“Mayor’s son,” I said when no one decided to reply. “Or something he said.” I thanked Kristoff when he handed me a kebab as well.
After we all ate and talked for a bit, it was back to another game, and Adrian cleaning up the mess he made on the floor.
“Seriously, Adrian, you don’t want to get kicked out for leaving meat everywhere,” Lee told him off as he stood up and I laughed. When Adrian stood up, crumbs, meat, vegetables, everything fell off his lap onto the floor.
He ate messily than a child.
“Are you blind? Because I am cleaning, duh.” Adrian rolled his eyes, picking up the mess he made.
“Come on, Ivory, do you want to break?” Lee chucked me the white ball.
“Probably won’t really break,” I told him. I wasn’t the best at breaking but he told me to have a shot anyway. And my shot was pretty pathetic. Three of the balls broke and Darius started laughing loudly, one of those laughs that started deep in your stomach and came out.
“Shut up,” I said, in embarrassment, nudging him as I stepped away so Kristoff could break it properly. “At least I tried.”
“We can go after this game finished.”
Darius’s voice made me jump and I realised how tired and out of focus I was. I yawned again and nodded.
I had lost count of how many games I had played. It was simply too enjoyable to stop playing. Lee was long done playing, already on the couch with one leg propped up. He was on his phone, laughing and reading out random tweets he found funny every now and then.
Made me wonder, did Darius have twitter? What would he tweet about if he did have one?
Another business deal.
I smiled as I imagined him tweeting that. No, Darius would have a boring twitter feed, but probably millions of followers.
“What are you smiling about?” Darius questioned as he gave me the cue stick.
I shook my head walking around the table. “My secret,” I replied, leaning down to take a shot.
The game was nearly done. There were less than four balls on the table. But at the same time I didn’t want to go back home. We had a great day. I had met his friends who turned out to be hilarious, telling me stories about all the mischief they got up to during business school.
Something rammed into my backside, making me crash onto the pool table. I looked behind to see it was one of the guys, who decided to hi-five my butt with his and I glared at him when he smiled.
“Shouldn’t have been standing so close.”
Darius narrowed his eyes, taking a step toward the guy. I shook my head at him. He raised an eyebrow, silently questioning me when my lips curved into a smile.
The guy wanted to play like that, didn’t he?
The teenager smiled, flicking his brown hair out of his hazel eyes and leaning back against their pool table smirking at me.
I turned around to take a shot. I exaggerated my movements, my back hand causing the end of the cue stick to rib him. I smiled when I heard his grunt. I turned around to see I had a pretty good shot. Hit him right in the ribs, hard.
“Shouldn’t have been standing to close,” I muttered, walking around to give the cue back to Darius who was smiling, and shaking his head.
“What?” I asked innocently, looking up at him as we swapped again.
“Your dad told me you have a temper.” He smiled. “I like it.”
And my stomach flipped, not only because of what he said, but what I saw when I placed my hand on the edge of the table. “Um, Dairy?” I asked, my cheek going red.
He looked up.
I smiled sheepishly. “I think I lost your ring.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I kicked my feet as I lay on the couch flipping through the magazine. It was still fairly early in the morning and somehow I just couldn’t sleep and was up and out of the bed. I was surprised. I loved my sleep.
I sighed as I flipped to the next page and turned my head to see the picture. Another famous star, another scandal. Didn’t the paparazzi have anything else to do?
Well, then again, it was their job.
I hummed a song as I heard sounds upstairs. What was that? I paused, half way through flipping a page. It was like something was knocking everything over.
Something sounding like hulk. I smiled.
I guess he was awake.
Thankfully, we did find the ring when we were leaving. Adrian had picked it up when he saw it on the flooir. So that made me get rid of the guilt I felt after I realised I could have lost it. Note taken. Never wear his rings again.
There was a louder thud.
Did he knock the lamp over or something? But my answer came fast enough when I saw him, or more like heard him, come down the stairs yelling my name.
The sound was like an elephant crashing into the walls, but it was only my husband crashing against the wall as he came down the stairs, sending what few photo frames there were on the wall to the ground. I winced.
“You know, I really don’t like this house either, but you don’t need to demolish it to the ground,” I joked as I flipped the page. I heard him grunt as he banged into the railing.
“Do you mind giving me a hand?”
My eyes flicked up and I held back a giggle seeing him currently stuck, or tangled, which ever describes the situation best, in a black shirt.
“I could,” I said, sighing and stretching my legs out. “But I’m so comfortable here.”
This couch was comfortable, and I di
dn’t really mind the view either, his shirt riding up and flashing me. It was a good view.
He grumbled something under his breath and I sighed. Fine, if I had to.
“Fine. Walk straight.”
He stopped moving around and froze. “What?”
“If you want me to help you, come over here. I’m too comfortable to get up.”
He made a noise, which was probably him getting frustrated at me and ended up grumbling. “Where?”
“Straight.”
He took a hesitant step forward. Really? Was it that hard to get out of a shirt? Just pull it off and then put it back on.
“No, no, no, no. Stop!” I yelled as he nearly ran into the coffee table. He froze, so close to the coffee table. We can’t have the glass antique break now, can we?
“Ivory,” he warned and I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Now turn. No, the other way. Okay, wait, you turned too much. Um,” I knotted my eyebrows in concentration. How was I supposed to do this? Maybe it would have been easier for me to just go up and do it myself, but too late now, and he was so close.
I really couldn’t be bothered getting up when he was within arm’s reach.
“Hurry up.” I winced and placed my magazine on my stomach. “Alright, turn three degrees to your left.”
“I thought you failed maths,. Are you sure it’s three degrees?”
I gasped, my cheeks warming up. “Excuse me, I did not fail maths,. Who told you that?”
“Your dad. Now, three degrees?”
I huffed. Trust my dad to tell him everything. I did not fail maths, I quit it. There was a good difference. And I was good at it too, well sort of. I was okay, not that bad, I just didn’t like it.
“Aluminium.”
“Huh? Oh right, yes I am positive it is three degrees. Okay, maybe ten. No, five,” I said nodding. “Yes, five.”
He turned around a bit. I wasn’t sure exactly how many degrees it was, but it was enough. “Now take a step forward. Yep. Whoa-!” My palms went up in a protective defense in case he fell on me. Thankfully he didn’t.
“I said step, not a lunge, T-Rex,” I told him as he steadied himself from running into the couch. What was he, a bulldozer?
“Just help,” he said with gritted teeth. Aw, was the big boy asking for help? Ew no, that sounded weird.
I raised my hands, but got disappointed they didn’t reach him. I then slowly sat up, tugging at his shirt.
Oh wow, he was actually stuck. “What did you do?” I asked, trying to give it a harder tug. He shrugged, which then made it worse.
“Ouch!”
I winced. “Sorry. This is why you don’t put clothes on,” I shook my head and froze when I realised what I said. “I mean, like when you come straight out of the shower, ya know? You have to completely dry yourself off-”
“Ivory, just pull on it.”
I rolled off to a sitting position. Fine, bossy boots.
I sat up even straighter and then decided to just be on my knees, giving me a bit of height as he was bent at an awkward angle. Now at least I can see what was happening. It was pretty clear how he got into the mess.
The tag on the shirt was still on it, making the plastic thread hook onto the other side. He was a complete prisoner of his own shirt. “Stay still,” I said, giving the plastic a good tug. It was strong. They usually were, though the cardboard attached to it came off easily and I chucked that to the floor.
I debated whether I should give it a harder pull or not. Last time I did that, I ripped a hole in my shirt, and happy because mother bought that bright yellow shirt, not me.
This time this wasn’t my shirt.
“You done?”
“Nearly,” I said. There was only one way to do this. The kitchen was too far for me to get the scissors.
“Stay still.” I leaned down while I pulled the plastic up to my mouth. He froze.
“What are you doing?”
“Shut up,” I said, placing the thin plastic between my canines and cutting at it. This usually worked.
“Are you eating my shirt?”
I scoffed. I loved my food, but not clothes. Finally, after the third bite the plastic snapped. I dropped back onto the couch as he pulled his hand through and his shirt down.
“I think I sprained my neck.” To prove his point, Darius massaged the back of his neck, looking irritated as his green eyes stared on the floor. His hair was another story, sticking up in various directions. It made me laugh, but I decided it looked funny and I wasn’t going to tell him.
“Did you bite it?”
I shrugged, stretching my legs out and picking up my magazine again. “You could have ruined a tooth, you know,” he said, which surprised me because I more or less expected an ‘ew, Ivory, you got your saliva on me.’
He looked at the couch and I moved my legs so he could sit. He sat down and grabbed the TV remote. It was weird seeing him home. Didn’t he have work or something? Not to mention he was dressed in casual clothes, another weird and rare sight.
He flipped the channels till he got to the news. Practical. I shook my head at him, going back to the comic section in the magazine while keeping my legs at a ninety-degree angle on the seat, like I was doing crunches or sit-ups.
I flipped the page, reading the comic section when I felt something on my feet, making me wince in surprise. Cold hands.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled on my legs and stretched them out on his lap. What the hell was he doing?
“Watching the news,” he said, nodding at the TV. Not what I meant but okay. I stared at him, confused, before shrugging it off and going back to my comics. They were currently mocking the political debate in Australia, and the drawings were always funny. They made the prime minister overly evil-looking, which was something weird.
I jumped when I felt his fingers draw circles on my foot, perhaps subconsciously. Did he forget I was ticklish? Before I could say anything, he spoke up.
“Is that your phone?”
I looked at where he was looking and nodded. Oh yea, it was.
“Are you going to pick it up?”
The phone was flashing, a called name rocking up and I shook my head. “Nah. Why else would I pay for voicemail? They should hear my cool ringtone.” I flicked the page over.
Darius raised an eyebrow at me, his handsome face staring at me. The sunlight was facing him, so his eyes sparkled and I tried to keep my eyes on my magazine.
Oh look, spiderman, isn’t he hot? Sort of, his face was all covered in his mask. Well, that was a help.
“Who is it?”
“My mother,” I simply said, smiling. Her picture was on there, drawn with horns. Darius leaned over my feet, looking at the table and wincing. Yeah, I was artistic like that. He turned back to me and I felt his gaze on me for a solid minute before I looked up, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Why do you dislike your mother?”
Oh why did I? This could be the product of a brilliant 5000-word essay. I was unsure why they didn’t let me write about this at school, definite A plus essay.
“I don’t dislike her,” I said, flipping the page. Only a few more left to go. I winced when I saw that I reached the fashion article and it was anything but fashion. My eyes widened, people actually wore that?
“I hate her,” I corrected.
“Why?” Darius asked again, his finger playing with the edge of my leggings. I don’t even think he knew what he was doing, and his eyes were busy scanning across the front of the magazine, probably the new headline, before they locked with mine.
“She never wanted children.” I shrugged, as if this topic was of no importance. That was the understatement of the year. She loathed children, and she loathed me.
Darius cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “She didn’t want kids?”
“Nup,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “My dad did, and I guess he won, saying something about someone to lead on the family busi
ness.” I added a dry laugh. Oh boy, did they get it wrong. I was the worst person to lead on the family business. Hell, if only I got a dollar for every time I did something wrong in my mum’s eyes.
“Since she had to have a child,” I continued. If I was going to tell him, I might as well tell him all of it, not leave him hanging on half fed information, “she wanted a boy.”
“But don’t mothers usually want a daughter?”