It was about an hour later when I heard the door open. I had the TV on quietly, and the heating on full blast as I drank my coffee and sat back in the chair. And finally, everything was quiet.
And then I realised who it was. Oh shit.
Good luck, Cal, I said to myself. Good luck.
I shut the living room door gently behind me, and came face to face with my sister. I had put the bowl back in the sink, along with the cutlery, but her shampoo was still opened on the kitchen table, her stool out in the hallway. “Hey... Mills, I said, quietly. “What’s up?”
She dumped her bag on the floor under the coat rack, and took of her jacket. “Hey. Why it’s so fucking warm in here?” She asked, coldly.
“Oh, um,” I looked down. “Just felt chilly when I came in. Also, can you, uh keep your voice down? Because of the dogs, see, and-“
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know he’s in there.”
“You... you do?” I said, in shock.
“Yeah, I saw you two earlier, when I was walking through town. And look, I know you want to protect him, but you can’t go over that house again-“
“I didn’t go to his house,” she raised her eyebrows. “No, seriously. He was out in the park, looking half dead. You saw the state of him, right? He must’ve tried to run away. I couldn’t just leave him there, Mills, it was freezing, and he hadn’t eaten in God knows how long and was shivering like it was the Arctic. You can’t convince me I’ve done the wrong thing here.”
She sighed. “Fine, but you’d better keep a close eye on him. Mam’s working night shift tonight, remember, so we’ve got the house to ourselves. You feel like pizza? I’ll put it on now.”
“Yeah, um,” I said. “Not the pepperoni one, though.” She looked back at me. “He’s a Muslim, see.”
She nodded, although I realised he had never actually answered that question. Still, not a risk-taking kind of guy right about now. “Fair enough. Can’t they not have cheese, neither?”
“You mean the whole meat and dairy thing? That Jews, Mills. Just put the Margherita one in with those chips, and we’ll be fine.”
“Fair enough, don’t really remember GCSE short course RE much, sorry,” she said, and I was unsure if she was trying to joke around or being genuinely snide to me.
“At least you turned up, huh?” I smiled. “Anyway, yeah, I’m going to go.”
“You do that. Go tend to your prince.”
YOU ARE READING
Leon, Leon (BoyxNB romance)
Teen Fiction"I'm Callum. Life's not the worst it could be, but I always feel like I'm on the edge - of my friendship groups (Both of them - that's what I call talent), my family, and pretty much any possible love interest. It feels like I'm always watching a fi...
