Antidote

Chapter 9

I wake up and rub my eyes tiredly. I'm laying on the sofa, and I'm still in the clothes I was in yesterday. What the......

Slowly I begin to remember what happened. The night, me getting sick, Tristan taking care of me. Speak of the devil. Tristan walks in and sits down beside me. "How you feeling?" "Fine," I reply. He nods. "Good." He begins to climb on top of me, laying down so his back is pressed up against my stomach. He dances his fingers along my ribs and I feel a tremor run through me. I'm not ticklish, but his fingers touching my body gives me a good feeling. I smile smugly at him and say, "You're out of luck this time, Daniels. I'm not ticklish." He sighs and gets off of me. "Well, I tried." He disappears into the kitchen for a minute or two.

Then I hear my name being called. I get up slowly, and walk into the kitchen. Only to be ambushed by Tristan and his secret weapon: A bag of flour. He dumps it all on me, making sure it gets in my hair and on my shoes, clothes, and jacket. I stand there in shock, covered head-to-toe in white flour that's sticking to me. I must look like a walking snowman. Meanwhile, Tristan is laughing at me, pointing at my flour-covered face. "Brasshole," I mutter. He looks at me. Shit, did he hear that? He starts laughing again. "Did you just call me a brasshole," he asks while clutching his sides in an attempt to control the laughter. I feel my face turn fiery red as I mumble, "Yeah." He only laughs louder. Finally fed up, I return to the living room.

He follows me in and gives me an adorable smile, showing off his dimples. My heart immediately melts and I know I can't stay mad at him. So I smile back, weakly. He grins and disappears into the kitchen. "I'll make you breakfast, since I'm such a brasshole," he says, chuckling. I smile deviously. Time to get my revenge.

I rush upstairs to my room and grab a few dozen balloons that I have stored there. I run to the bathroom sink and fill them each with water. I then head downstairs silently, taking all of the balloons with me. I stash three fourths of them beside the living room couch. The others I set on top of the sofa, taking one in my hand. I sneak silently into the kitchen. Tristan's back is turned to me. He's humming as he flips the eggs. I snatch the ketchup from the table quickly and bring it to my stash beside the couch. Next I steal the carton of eggs that are carelessly left out. Smiling evilly, I back out of the kitchen soundlessly, returning to my post by the sofa.

"Alex!" Tristan calls. "Breakfast is ready!" I don't reply,  hoping he'll come to look for me. He does. As soon as his foot crosses the threshold, I spring up from my hiding place and throw the first balloon. It hits him right in the face. I burst out laughing at the sight of him standing there, dripping water from his face. Half of his hair is wet, giving him a comical appearance. "Oh, you're going to regret that," he says, stepping closer to me. I smile sweetly at him. "I highly doubt that, darling." I throw the second balloon, but he's too quick and dodges it. The balloon splatters on the wall next to him. He runs towards me, trying to grab some of my ammo. "Oh, no you don't!" I cry and crack an egg on top of his head. His hands finally find the extra balloons, and soon I'm sopping wet. 

Shrieking, I grab the ketchup and the eggs and run. I make it to the kitchen and grab wildly for the extra flour. When I find it, I wait by the door for Tristan. When he appears, I empty the flour sack on him. A white cloud rises up from the floor as I pour ketchup onto his head. Unable to see, he throws what remains of the balloons wildly in random directions. I manage to dodge most of them. I've emptied the ketchup bottle now and I'm hiding behind the counter. When Tristan's hand gropes for a rag, I toss eggs at him. He stumbles blindly, trying to get away from the eggy mess. His hands find the refrigerator door and he pulls it open. He manages to find the whipped cream and sprays it wildly, successfully blinding me. 

I stumble to the pantry. Unable to find any more flour, I take the next best thing: Powdered sugar. As soon as Tristan's footsteps register in my hearing, I grope for his face. When I find it, I release the powdered sugar. Then I stumble to the living room and wipe the whipped cream from my eyes. I lie on the sofa for a minute exhausted.

Suddenly the smoke alarm rings. Oh no....

Sprinklers come on all over the house. I can hear Tristan shrieking like a girl as the flour and powdered sugar begin to cling to his body. I run to the kitchen to flip the switch that turns the sprinklers off. I do this successfully and the sprinklers slow down, then completely stop. I'm turning to leave while I can, before Tristan kills me, when I trip over the empty ketchup bottle. I fall and land on top of Tristan. "Urgh," he groans and trys to shove me off. But the flour sticks. I look down, into Tristan's eyes, only to find him staring back into mine with intense, burning passion.

I gulp and I'm tempted to look away, but his gaze has transfixed me. I'm under a spell, hypnotized by this angelic boy with the sky-blue eyes. He leans upward and I know what he's going to do. I try to break my gaze from his but I can't. His hands reach up to cradle my cheeks, and he slowly lowers my head until our lips are mere inches apart.