The Cutie is a Boxer

CHAPTER 16

I jumped on to the once-white couch, grimancing as it screeched under my weigh. Folding my legs close to my chest, I rested my chin onto my knees, staring as Dylan placed two cups of hot chocolate on the wooden table before me.

I waved to the pink cup "Who's that for? Because if you think... Don't you turn your back on me!" Stretching my legs, I hopped of the sofa, following after him. "Stop ignoring me you, idiot, I am supposed to be here, so that we talk, huh?"

Sighing, he stopped walking and turned around, his eyes instantly meeting mine. Brushing his tongue over his pale lips, he sighed once again, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Scarlett, you had been complaining since I shut this door close" he said, pointing to the oak door over his right shoulder "leaving me no time to talk, at all!"

I could literally feel my blood boiling under my skin and bit violently the inside of my cheek so as to not scream, I took a big step towards him. "You" I growled, thrusting my palms against his thorax "brought me here against my will, and expect me to just shut up and wait for you to explain sitting on your filthy couch, which, by the way, I hate to touch, thinking about the millions of girls you probably have fucked on!"

"Millions?" He chuckled, catching my wrists and pressing my palms closer to his chest. "You are fluttering me, tiger cub."

Roalling my eyes, I cursed under my breath, pulling my hands away. "Of course I am. I can almost imagine you dragging them to your little house in the woods, whispering that this will be your secret hideaway! What's with this house after all?"

Marching back to the couch, he slumped down on it, clutching his cup of chocolate and gulping one large sip. "First things first, I have never brought a girl here. Well, not before."

Furrowing my eyebrows I gently sat down on the rusty couch, next to him. I examined him closely as he placed his mug back on the table, pulling a bottle of whiskey under it and pouring some in the cup, then drinking some more.

"As for the house" he continued, his eyes reflecting now the dark-dark blue of the ocean "It was a secrete hideaway, but not for some cheap chick. I'm not that shallow." I could feel his gaze searching for my eyes, but I kept on staring into the empty space, afraid to look back at him.

"What about it?" I managed to spell, struggling to keep my voice stable, not letting my emotions out. His voice, which revealed so much pain, had increased the agony I felt for being alone in a place with him.

"Well" he said, pouring some more whiskey on his hot chocolate "I don't think you are one to listen to my story." Stretching my hand, I grabbed the pink cup, gesturing to him to serve some whiskey to me too.He lifted his head, a puzzled look plastered on his face, as I looked back at him mumbling a soft 'go on'.

"Are you serious?" He inquired, propping up an eyebrow, while filling my cup with some whiskey.

"I want to know." I said, placing my hand on his thigh and squeezing it slightly. "Really, I do."

"You do?"

Inhalling slowly, I glared at him. "Ask once again and I'll crash this mug on your face, okay?"

Smiling, he took another sip of his mixture of chocolate and alcohol, his eyes focusing on some invisible spot. "I've seen children growing up normally even after losing a parent, and I've decided, that this is because they don't lose the right one. I mean we love our parents, but everyone has a soft spot. My dad and I used to hang around in the woods when I was young -I think I still remember all the types of trees and birds he taught me. We built this house together..." His voice broke and he placed his head on his palms, nervously brushing his fingers through his hair.

"And you lost him..." I whispered, already feeling my heart sinking in my chest. He nodded, squeezing his eyes. Subconsciously, I shuffled closer to him on the couch, gulping greedily my chocolate-whiskey. "I-I..." I stammered, trying to swallow the tangle that was blocking my throat. "I think that I lost the right one too."

Dylan's head instantly snapped to my place, his eyes, slightly watery, examining mine. It seemed like he was searching for some pain, hurt. Attempts in vein. I had learnt to feel nothing. And even if I carried some emotions, they stayed well-hidden.

"Your mother..."

"My mother."

He suddenly let out a bitter laughter, throwing his head back. "Really?" He chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval. "And you just simply state it."

It was instant, and I couldn't fight my urge. Briskly, I wrapped my legs around his torso, sitting on him with my elbow merely pressing on his throat. "How dare you!" I literally screamed, some tears gathering on my eyes. "How dare you say I didn't care! For you to know I loved her and Charlotte more than anything, but I didn't have the time, or the option of grieving over them! Y-You don't know..." I stuttered, biting my down lip violently. "You don't have the slightest clue what I've been through!"

"No, tiger cub, I don't know what you've been through!" he mumbled gently, slipping his fingers down my cheek, caressing my neck, his soft touch burning my skin "But trust me, I am more that eager to allow you to inform me about your sob-story! Can't you see I fucking care?"