SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 31

I went to the library afterwards, thinking Yolande wanted to tell me something important only for her to tell me that I should use my spare time to catch up on work. I thought about going home as I didn't have any other lesson today but I pulled out a chair and crammed and procrastinated and made flashcards for two long hours and then we walked out of the library together and headed home.

She didn't have a car and mine was busted (and gone, Bryson's brother must've come to pick it up) so we headed into town, stopped at a bakery for a  bag of marked-down custard doughnuts and then took the bus to Victory St and walked down the road until we got to the flat.

"Do you want to continue studying?" Yolande asked.

I locked the front door and dropped my backpack on the floor and gave her a crazy look. I didn't know how she did it. She had the will and determination I could never find. I shook my head. "I'm going to watch a movie and pig out. You're more than welcome to join me."

After an internal debate, her face made, she followed after me to the living room. "Does anyone else live here? It's quite messy."

I folded up a blanket, straightened the cushions and picked up the little ornaments Daniel loved to keep and arrange them to sit above the fireplace. "There. Clean."

She didn't look convinced but chose not to comment further. Halfway through watching The Theory Of Everything, Yolande headed to the kitchen. Figuring she'd gone for snacks or a drink, I didn't pay no attention. But five minutes later I heard pots clanging and glasses clinking and then the tap running. "What are you doing?" I called, eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

"It's driving me mad. I need to clean–" She yelled in fright. "Who are you?"

I shot up from the sofa and bumped straight into Cole as I rushed out of the living room. He jabbed a finger towards the kitchen and demanded. "Who is that?"

"What are you doing here?" I ignored his question. Yolande stood in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping wet hands on a cloth and she exclaimed.

"You frightened me. Why did you sneak up on me?"

"He has a habit of being a creep." I apologised to her and then tugged Cole into the living room and shut the door. "What do you want?"

The doorbell rang. Someone had their finger pressed against the buzzer and they weren't letting up until Cole brushed me off and went to go answer. I followed after him and then yelled out in delight. "Daniel!" We hugged tightly and then I pulled back, hands on his shoulders, inspecting him. "You look great."

Daniel's eyes were normally droopy, heavy lids weighed down after a couple of drinks and although he looked tired and exhausted there was a perkiness to him that I hadn't seen before. He looked as if he had enough energy and strength to hold himself up. "I've only come to get some clothes," he said bitterly. "The old man finally trusts me enough to give me some space although he's parked out front. It's not like I'm going to run away and inject myself with any dirty needle I find. I'm not stupid."

"You're not that stupid," Cole offered his unneeded two cents. "It's a necessary arrangement. Just a couple more days–"

"OK. Fuck. You're just like him. Constantly nagging. Give me a break."

"Who's him?" I asked just as someone slammed a fist on their car horn. In the distance someone shouted hurry your ass up, boy! Realisation dawned on me. "Is that your father?"

Daniel took the stairs two at a time, angrily muttering under his breath about how he can't ever seem to 'escape the dickhead.' Cole stared at me, gaze hard. "Get your friend out."