Knockout (Sequel to Dark)

Chapter 3

A feeling of joy bubbles up, happy to hear that love exists outside of my perilous experiences. He taps away at his phone as I sit quietly and observe. There's a couple of framed pictures, a pin board littered with calendar dates and a small potted plant that could do with a water.

"Of course you do," he rolls his eyes.

I'm fully acquainted with sarcasm, living with the likes of Tiff. His putdown won't dampen my spirits.

"Where is she?"

"Studying up in Manchester."

His eyes drift over to the phone he's recently found and I know the constant buzzing is messages from her by the smile he wears.

"I could help you if you want."

Mack's torn away from the screen, latching instead onto our conversation, which apparently has taken an interesting turn.

"What do you mean?"

I shift forward to the edge of the seat, repositioning the pathetic cushion used to combat the heavy wood of the chair.

"With the composition. If you're struggling, I could give you a woman's perspective."

"You'd do that?" he asks, slightly amazed.

"Sure, if you let me sit in on the fights."

I hope it's casual enough to not raise suspicion, but I'm not sure if the silence we're currently swimming in is him contemplating the offer, or if he's trying to work out if I'm bit of a crazy groupie. I give him a soft smile which I hope doesn't come off as odd.

"Alright."

"Brilliant," I grin, leaning over the paper peppered desk to shake his hand. "Just please don't tell him."

"About what?"

"About me."

***

Apparently I'm not competent enough to take command of the trolley, so I'm stuck walking alongside like a child as Tiff points out items on the shelf. We'd brought Rob on our food shopping expedition after discovering he'd eaten pot noddle for breakfast and lunch. He'd scowled as we'd tried to explain that the "food" had about as much nutrition as water sodden cardboard.

"You're going home again?"

I place tins of sweetcorn amongst our swelling food supply.

"Yeah."

The trolley screeches to a halt, an old lady tutting behind before steering around us. Tiff's brown eyes are swarming me with disappointment, brows furrowing as she continues to push forward.

"Why? We were meant to go to the cinema. You remember? I have that voucher for Saturday night, I can't use it any other day."

"Shit. I'm really sorry," I shake my head with genuine regret.

"Ugh," Tiff grumbles, throwing a box of cereal into our shared trolley. "Oh God, I'll have to take Rob instead."

"Take me where?" Rob pops up, mouth full of grapes and arms full of rubbish microwave meals. "Are we going on a date, Tiff?"

He suggestively nudges her with his shoulder, eyebrows dancing around in a supposedly flirty way.

"You wish," she bites back, helping unload the items from his clutches.

"You're supposed to pay before you start eating the shopping," I point out, taking the nearly empty bag of fruit and placing it on top.

I'm not surprised that they ignore my scolding in favour of racing down the frozen aisle to see what's on offer. We'll divide it between us if the food goes towards a main meal. But if it's ice-cream, it's none negotiable, there will be no sharing, just stomach aches after eating a full tub to ourselves.