THALIA
When a woman dressed in a black suit approached me on a train track, whilst I was holding a bottle of blue spray paint in my left hand and a face covered with paint, I didn't hesitate to say no to her proposition:
BE HER BRIDESMAID AT HER WE...
Dad sits on the sofa opposite me. He intestines his fingers and rests them in between his thighs as he leans forward. "Tell me, son. What exactly did you see? And don't give me the same shit you've been feeding your brothers."
"Thalia was with our mother. They were having coffee together, Dad."
Dad scratches his beard briefly, "are you sure?"
"Yes, Dad, I'm pretty sure."
"Pretty sure? Cause that's not going to cut it."
"I'm one hundred percent certain!" I say slowly, letting him know how sure I am.
"You didn't have to go that hard in." He scolds me.
"Does nobody realise the gravity of this? She was with our mum. The one who abandoned us. But maybe she was lying about everything and was just here for mums sake. Maybe she's known her this whole time."
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, "let's not jump ahead of ourselves, hey?"
I sound batshit crazy right now. "I'm not a lunatic, Dad."
"I know you're not a lunatic, son."
"So why is everyone so chill?" I don't understand. She's done a real bitchy thing.
"Son, we don't know her side of the story. I love her and I know that she wouldn't do anything to deliberately hurt you boys." He tells me solemnly.
"Why wouldn't she tell us she saw her? It doesn't add up, Jesus Christ," I stress.
Dad sighs and runs a hand down the side of his face tiredly. "You have to be the one to bring her back home."
"No way," I cross my arms and slouch into the sofa.
"I'm not asking you to, I'm telling you to. Yuh go get your sister and your bring her back and there better not be a hair on her head out of place."
I roll my eyes, "sure, whatever."
"Drop the attitude." My dad tells me before patting me on the shoulder and walking off.
Guess I've got to go get my sister, who I don't even want here. At least not when she's associated to our failure of a mother.
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"I mean, I get where he's coming from. If I saw him with our mum I'd be confused as fuck." I tell Warren whilst his head is layed in my lap and I'm massaging his scalp.
"He just took it too far though, didn't he?"
I close my eyes and lean my head against the headboard of Warrens overly large bed. "I feel terrible. You both are best friends and I don't want to put you in the middle."
Warren stares up at me, "you're very kind, aren't you?"
I scoff, "hardly."
"Oh, c'mon. Don't be modest."
I flail my arms in the air and Warren grabs onto my wrists and brings them down to his head. "Don't stop, I've fallen in love with scalp therapy."
I laugh, "you're such an idiot."
"You love me for it."
The mood in the room instantly changes. Neither of us have dropped the l-bomb. I was thinking it, yeah. But we've hardly known each other long.
"We haven't known each other long..."
Warren sits upright, "when you know, you know. And I know."
I can't help the stupid smile that erupts on my face, I bring our faces closer together, "I know."
He presses his lips to mine and we take it slow and lovingly. Until he bites down on my lower lip before drawing his lips away. "I think I know from the moment I first saw you ogling me behind that counter."
I laugh breathlessly, "even in the sweetest moments you still can't help but be a dick."
