The Retribution Chronicles

A d e | n i n e t e e n

Never in a million years did Ade think he'd want to jump for joy. The expression had always felt cringe, ridiculous even, but there he was, feet curling against the granite flagstones in an effort not to spring up and pump a fist into the air like the protagonist from a bad 80s romcom. Instead, he had to settle for the kind of smile that made your cheeks ache, but it was worth it. She was worth it.

"You're here for me," he teased.

"Coincidently," she said.

"Obviously, it would be too intense otherwise."

"And we don't want that."

"Not at all."

Except, Ade had a sneaking suspicion he did. Passion and fire all wrapped up in the comforting squeeze of longevity. Not something brief and fleeting, a blink and you'll miss it experience, but one with a shelf life that exceeded all expectations. A love, he dared to think, that would last. Not that he was in love, exactly, but then maybe he was. Or, at the very least, in danger of it. Which, for the first time in his life, was a welcome prospect.

Daniel left the room, phone pressed to his ear, and Abi joined Miriam and Wes. In one hand she was holding her glass, in the other, a bottle of cheap tequila. She offered it to Miriam, who poured herself a generous helping and then offered it to Ade. He took the bottle and ventured to the sink to get a clean glass which he filled with a dash of tequila and topped up with a tonne of lemonade. He and Miriam may have been in separate rooms, but if earlier was anything to go by, it definitely didn't have to stay that way.

The food arrived an hour later, packed in plastic containers damp with condensation. Daniel began unpacking the dishes one by one and loading them up on the large marble island in the centre of the kitchen, leaving Ade, as the only one with enough knowledge of the house, to gather a mismatched collection of plates and a handful of forks. He placed the utensils beside the last dish and offered everyone a plate.

"Living room?" Daniel said to no one in particular.

"Games room," Ryan corrected.

"My brother lost the pool cues last time he was here," Daniel explained, "so there's no point."

"How do you lose pool cues?" Abi asked.

"If you'd met his friends, you'd know how."

Everyone helped themselves to food, loading up their plates with noodles, ribs and enough prawn crackers to feed a small nation. Ade snuck a glance at Miriam's plate. It was relatively empty, rice and dim sum complemented by mushrooms in black bean sauce and a single spring roll. She slid towards him and stole a prawn cracker from his plate, popping it into her mouth whole.

"Shall we?" Ade asked, jerking his head towards the others.

"Lead the way."

He stepped into the hallway and headed into the second room on the left, securing the sofa closest to the door and gesturing for Miriam to sit first. She plopped beside the arm rest, feet curling beneath her thighs, and balanced her plate on her raised kneecap, somehow managing to steal another prawn cracker as Ade settled beside her.

"You should've gotten your own." He swatted her hand.

"She never does," Wes called across the room, snorting between mouthfuls of food. "It's her fatal flaw."

"Fuck off," she laughed good-naturedly. "Fatal flaw my arse."

"It really is," Abi said.

"I'm feeling quite attacked." Miriam was still laughing.

"Well, I think it's cute." Ade collected four prawn crackers and placed them on her plate. She beamed at him and leaned across, pressing a chaste kiss onto the highpoint of his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered before settling back down.

"Anytime."

Against his better judgement, Ade glanced at Wes, watching, waiting for a flash of jealousy, brash and bold, or disappointment. But he saw nothing, detected nothing, felt nothing, leaving icy indifference to fill the gulf between them.

At some point, once the food was finished, and several more rounds of drinks had passed so that the room filled with an alcohol-induced warmth, Ryan suggested a game of never have I ever. Wes and Miriam groaned simultaneously; Ade realised it was too late to join in, bonding himself to her, so he sat in silence and swallowed the last of his rum and coke—more coke than rum, although he'd rather the opposite.

"Let's do it," Daniel said, slurring slightly.

Ryan turned down the volume of the music and grabbed the bottle of tequila beside his feet, filling empty glasses with tequila neat. "Who wants to start?"

"Don't you count to twenty-one first?" Miriam asked. "You know, to make it fair."

Ryan frowned, but Ade said one, resolving the brewing argument in a matter of seconds.

"Two, three," Miriam said, squeezing his thigh.

"Four," Wes piped up.

They continued until Abi said twenty-one. "Okay." She placed both hands on her lap. "Never have I ever...gotten a tattoo."

Miriam took a conservative sip which would've been more discreet if anyone joined in, but she was alone in her truth.

"Where?" Ade murmured.

"More importantly, when?" Wes asked.

"My eighteenth birthday," she said.

"With Josh?" Wes asked.

She nodded.

"Where?" he said.

"Notting Hill."

"No, where on your body?" he said.

She took another sip of tequila. "It doesn't matter."

Wes' lips parted, but before he could say anything, she was off, counting one, two, three and releasing responsibility.

The game whirred on without a kink, nothing half so tense as Miriam and Wes' conversation repeating in the rounds that circled them, filling the room with embarrassing truths from getting caught having sex in public place—Ade—to skipping out of a date early—Abi, Daniel and Wes. Miriam took the final drink of the game—never have I ever gone on multiple dates in one day—and declared she was going to bed.

Wes sprung up instantly and careened towards her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She rolled her eyes, but did nothing to push him off, instead wrapping her own around him as they ambled upstairs, their laughter replacing their presence.

Daniel and Abi were staring at the floor, Ryan at Ade. "What's going on between you," he blurted out, any sense of propriety flying out of the window.

"Between who?" Ade played dumb.

"You and Miriam."

"We're dating," he said, the word foreign in his mouth. But that's what it was. Dating. At least, they'd been on a few dates.

"So why is she with Wes?" Ryan asked.

"She's not with Wes," Abi said firmly. "They're friends, have been for a while, will always be."

"Exactly," Ade agreed. "Friends."

But, if that were true, why was he struggling to believe it himself after less than a day with them?

***

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