Burned (Hate at First Flight #2) ✔️

40. Surrealism That Leaves One Silent

"Thanks Krys," she said a couple of minutes later as she pushed the empty bowl towards me. "That was good."

I nodded along skeptically. She must've really wanted something home-cooked.

"So..." I sat down on the couch next to her after cleaning up in the kitchen, "what are we watching?" I stared at the screen as a young Leonardo DiCaprio appeared on the screen. Instantly I realized it was Titanic.

I felt a wave of sadness tug at me as I stared at the screen.

Mom had made me watch every one of Leonardo DiCaprio's movies, save for one. We never did watch The Great Gatsby. It was the movie she had been looking forward to throughout the entire year. Dad had even said once that he was getting a little jealous over mom's crush on Leonardo DiCaprio.

We hadn't gone to watch it in the end because they had their accident the year before the movie came out. I still hadn't watched it. I couldn't bring myself to do so. I knew without a doubt that I couldn't sit through the thing without a flood of tears breaking out.

Nancy said something, and I couldn't really make sense of what she said but I guessed it was her replying to my question.

The famous scene where Leo had his arms around Kate's waist as she spread out her arms just moments before the tragic iceberg incident was playing out. I remember mom always giggling out loud like a teenage girl at that scene saying how she wished she was in Kate's shoes just for that moment.

Just as I was about to excuse myself from having to watch the movie anymore, the doorbell rang.

I was on my feet and halfway to the door before Nancy could even pull her gaze off the screen to question who if was at the door.

I shrugged in answer as I rushed to the door and pulled it open before any qualms of an axe murderer being at the door hit me.

"Douglas?" the shock laced within my voice resounded in the apartment and I wouldn't be surprised if the entire building heard me.

Douglas stood with his fingers inches from the doorbell as if he was just about to ring it again.

He wore a white Henley and black washed out jeans paired with combat boots. His hair was messy and wet. In fact, his shirt was wet as if he'd been spending some quality time in the rain. In his right hand were several plastic bags.

"Hey Krys," he replied as his eyes met mine. They lit up as if there was some repressed joy within them and held a tinge of worry as his eyes darted into the house.

"Why are you here?" I couldn't hide the confusion nor the bluntness of my tone.

Douglas looked a little taken aback at my curtness. "I brought some get well soon gifts," he replied after a moment as he held up the plastic bags in his hand.

I bit my lower lip, a little bit perplexed by his attitude. The way he was behaving was usually how you acted with your closest friends. We were friendly enough for the past couple of weeks, but nothing that could be considered that of best of friends.

Just as I was about to vocalise my thoughts, Nancy's voice cuts through the awkward atmosphere, "Let the boy in, Krys. It's not like he's hiding any explosives in those bags."

My face reddenned, ashamed at having been admonished by Nancy before I nodded and let Douglas in.

I took my time closing the door, composing myself before I walked into the living room.

What I saw there was completely surreal.

Douglas sat on the armchair across from Nancy and they were already laughing about something. If I didn't know better, I would've concluded that it was at my expense.