Between The Lines

Chapter 7

Sighing and thoroughly regretting my stubborn traits, I stepped into the premises and closed the door behind me loudly so as to not alarm them when I turned up in their flat.  At some point, the music which had been blasting earlier had stopped.  I guessed that the CD playlist had ran out of songs.  That, at least, would make it easier to have a decent conversation with them.  I treaded carefully down the corridor which was poorly lit due to the deceased lamp which was now sprawled out across the width of the corridor.

The corridor opened up into a rather simple living room, typical of a city flat and pretty plain which would be expected for such an old building.  It was equipped with the usual necessities; a small, brick-like TV was sat on the floor in the centre of the room, looking almost lonely without a stand, and two grey sofas, sagging with age, were arranged in front of the screen as though the television was the sole focus of the room.  A bare lightbulb lit the room effortlessly.

Only Isaac was in the room now.  He was sat on the scraggly carpet crosslegged, fiddling with a small black remote with an enviable amount of concentration.  He’d pulled up his hood of his onsie so that the  dragon’s tongue looked like it was licking his eyebrow.  He didn’t bother looking up as I crossed the room towards him, lowering myself onto the sofa behind him.  I perched there carefully, uncomfortable with the quietness, which was only broken by the sound of Isaac relentlessly punching the buttons on the remote.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, tapping my knees together.  “Where’s Simon?”  I hoped I’d heard their names right.

“Kitchen,” he grunted almost immediately.  He seemed unbothered by the fact a stranger was sitting in his living room without invitation.

As though he’d been listening for his cue, Simon leapt into the room, landing with his hands on his hips and a dashing grin on his face.  He held a beer in each hand.  “Simon… is in the building!” he exclaimed drunkenly.  He took two large strides to the sofa and plonked himself down, spreading his legs wide so that his left knee was pushing against my own.  He popped open the can of beer in his left hand, tipped his head backward so that his neck was long, and gulped down at least half the can in one go.

I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose as he finished, smacking his lips in a proud manner.  He then turned his head and smiled at me, showing off a set of straight pearly teeth.  He spent a good thirty seconds smiling, in which time I politely smiled back, nodded my head, turned my eyes to the left in the hope that when I looked back he’d be looking elsewhere, yet to no avail.  “Oh.”  He blinked and released his smile, seeming to realise he was acting a bit creepily.   He offered out his other hand.  “Have a beer, babe.”

When I didn’t take the can, he shoved it onto my lap without waiting for an answer and crossed one long leg over the other, leaning back.  “So, tell me.”

“Sorry?”  I questioned, caught off guard as I opened my beer and cradled it in my hands.  I realised that he must mean for me to tell him why I was so interested in Zacharias.  “Oh right, yeah.”  What was I supposed to be asking again?  “I was just wondering if you could tell me where he-”

“Did it hurt?”  Simon interjected, raising two thick eyebrows.

“What?”  Did he mean the fight?  Had Zach told him about what had happened?  “Well, a bit - when I punche-”

He interrupted again, a distracted sort of amusement twinkling in his eyes.  “Did it hurt when God crafted together the hottest angel in the clouds?”

I stared, dumbfounded, at him, my lips opening and closing as I tried to form a suitable reply.  Instead, a loud snort from Isaac  saved me.  “It’s in Heaven, man, not in the clouds.”  He threw the remote down, apparently failing to turn on the TV.  “Stupid remote won’t work.”

Simon ignored him, moving onto his next line.  “If you were a McDonalds burger, I bet you’d be a Mc- Mac… Mc-”

 “McGorgeous,” Isaac butted in, sounding thoroughly amused.

“Want a bet?” he continued, unperturbed.  “I bet I can kiss you without touching you.”  Immediately, he placed a large hand on my lower knee and began to lean towards my face.  “I lost the bet.”

I was too caught up in trying to understand his cheesy chat-up lines that I didn’t realise until his lips were two inches from mine that he was going to kiss me.  At the last second, I shielded my face with my hand, feeling his nose squash against my palm.  “Ew, no!”  I shook his hand off my leg.  “I don’t want to kiss.”

Surprisingly, he quickly pulled back and returned to drinking his beer.  “You don’t?  Okay.”

“I’m guessing that means you don’t want to kiss me either?”  Isaac's voice popped in from behind his dragon onsie.

“No thanks,” I quickly answered, feeling relieved but very exasperated.  “I just want to know where I can find Zach- Hunt.”

As Isaac started to reply, a loud, rapt knock prevented him from speaking.  Simon yawned widely, seeming to decide it was time for him to cuddle up in the corner of the sofa for a nap.  “Well, you don’t need to look far, babe.”