Sunshine and Dynamite | Wattys 2017

#04

"This is it," I say, peering up at the house as Dylan pulled into the driveway.

"Wow, that's a big house." Dylan pulls the handbrake. "Just you and your parents?"

"Just me and dad," I correct. "Mom died when I was 8."

"Oh, right. Professor Lee's a widower." Dylan said apologetically. "I'm really sorry."

"It's alright," I give a smile, unbuckling my seatbelt. I get out of the car hands holding on to my bouquet and the groceries. I hesitate. "Thank you for the ride. Saved me some time and bus fare. I'm really sorry about last night and your girlfriend."

"Ex," He grins cheekily and I laugh. "So, you're not going to invite me in?"

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You want me to?"

"Well, not to pressure you into anything, but I really have got to tinkle." I giggle at his choice of words and he smirks at me. "You're cute when you giggle."

I hope the sudden flush heat in my cheeks aren't obvious.

"Come in, then." I say when I recollect myself. "Don't want you tinkling your pants." He cuts off the ignition and gets out the car, releasing a yawn. He cracks his knuckles and stretches. I try hard not to look at the sliver of olive skin that shows when he reaches upwards.

I turn away, wide-eyed. He's muscular. And attractive.

I throw the inappropriate thought away hastily. He just broke up, and we're only friends. Are we even friends?

Doesn't matter. You think he's hot.

I tell my consciousness to shut up and fish the keys out of my pockets. I unlock the door and gesture to the toilet and he dashes towards it, hands on crotch. "I would help you with the bags but I need to go!" he hollers before he slams the bathroom door.

It's endearing.

I drop the keys in the bowl by the door and frown up at the mirror hung above it. I run a finger over my dry skin. Is Dylan disappointed at how I look? I did wear a full face of make up last night. Maybe I could put some powder on now if I hurry.

I realize my thoughts and scold myself. Why should I care if he is disappointed? It's not like I want him to think I'm attractive...

There's a flush and Dylan jogs out. He halts and then rushes back. There's a thud and then he's back out again, with a cute little smile. He has a beautiful smile. "Forgot to put down the toilet seat." He explains. "Gracie used to hate me for that..." His voice dies out. "My ex." He murmurs.

See. He's still hung over about his ex. This isn't a time for me to develop a crush for him. It'll only end up hurting me.

Good thing you're addicted to hurting.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask, brushing my thoughts aside hurriedly. My offer is definitely just an act of politeness from a good host and definitely, definitely not just me stalling so he can stay longer.

"Sure," He says cheerily as I lead the way to the kitchen. He's speculating the area. "I love your place. It's so... lively."

"Yeah. Mom was big on it." I pour lemonade for the both of us and sit down. I look around me. It's true. The old walls are spiced up by colourful pops of colour, different for each room. The kitchen is painted a gorgeous orange that peeks out behind the giant hand painted tapestry she's hung. All the glasses and mugs have marks of her, with tea cups splattered with paint and wine glasses decorated with acrylic-painted swirly designs.