Hunter
I feel better now that Dex is around. He always makes me feel saner and more grounded somehow. Perhaps because he has this uncomplicated way of just putting things into perspective. He is the calmest person I know.
Or maybe it's because I often have no friggin' idea what he's on about and that snaps me out of my messed-up mental state right into confusion, which is much easier to deal with. He often says the strangest, most incomprehensible things, taking my attention away from whatever's bothering me. He never fails to make me laugh... even when he doesn't mean to.
Willow is not sitting on the edge of her seat anymore either. She clearly did not like it, though, when Dex insisted that she rides shotgun and he folded himself into the back. Ma should really get a bigger car.
If Dex were a woman, I would totally marry the bastard, even though he'd be a rough-looking wife. Some things that are great for enhancing a man's looks just would not quite do the same for a girl.
Dex's nose had been broken a couple of years ago - compliments of bloody Galen - and didn't set quite right. It is a bit bumpy now. Actually, I'm also to blame for that one... at least partially. I cannot look at that nose without feeling like shit. Sometimes I think Dex had his nose set a little crooked on purpose to keep me and Galen in line.
Neither of us is proud of what we've caused.
There's a tiny scar interrupting the smooth line of his left eyebrow. Another gift from his brother. I had nothing to do with that injury; it happened just before I met him. Dex has a small collection of other less noticeable scars on various parts of his body; most of them are results of altercations with his twin.
He swears that his brother has similar scars caused by him, Dex, but I'm not sure I believe him. I've definitely never seen any of them. Through the years, I've been trying my best to return these favours to Galen.
Those facial scars are the only attributes that would bag Dex the description of rugged. It really pisses me off, and not because it would stop him from being a pretty wife. Looks are really not all that important in life if you don't plan on making a career out of winning beauty pageants.
I'd marry him even if he were a tough-looking wife. What pisses me off is the fact that the scar and the broken nose are on the face of the least violent person I know. It pisses me off that Galen thinks it's okay to go at Dex full force when he loses his temper. It also pisses me off that Dex just lets him.
I am sure that if he wanted to, he could knock Galen on his arse, he is strong enough to do it. He doesn't want to, though. So, I do it for him. Well, I used to. Often. Not so much anymore after my last fight with Galen caused Dex to get injured. Definitely not an outcome either of us had been trying to achieve.
That's one thing the arsehole and I can agree on.
Declan has a thick unruly thatch of golden-brown hair that has a nice, warm coppery sheen when he stands in the sun. His hair tends to try to curl in random patterns and he usually just lets it have its way. He's never cared about looks much either.
His eyes and his smile counter the brother-inflicted ruggedness. His smile is warm enough to melt chocolate on a cold day and his eyes, a deep blue, have the gentlest spark in them I've ever seen, and I've seen my dad's eyes. There's no way that his smile and those eyes could belong to a brute.
Paisley once described Dex's lips as extremely kissable and the look on her face at the time made me worry that she was going to try to do just that. For some reason, she's always trying to kiss people.
I don't know if his lips are kissable or not. I've certainly never had any desire to kiss them but looking at them from an artist's point of view, I guess they're nicely shaped.
Kiss...
I glance at Willow sitting quietly next to me and feel my ears turn hot. Now her lips are what I call kissable...
Lived experience!
♫
Willow
I was rather surprised when Declan joined us in the car, I didn't know that we were picking him up with the groceries. They mentioned something about a broken motorcycle, Hunter telling Declan that he'd be over tomorrow after school to take a look at it.
I'm rather pleased that he's coming home with us. I'm not sure why. The atmosphere just seems lighter when he's around and he has a very interesting way with words. I don't always understand what he's saying, but I can listen to him speak for hours.
I love his accent and his made-up analogies. He has a fun sense of humour. I'm rather pleased that I like Hunter's best friend so much, it would've been terrible if, like Galen and Hunter, Dex and I didn't get along at all.
Hunter also seems happier with him around. Maybe I'm just glad to have a diversion from the elephant in the room that is constantly hovering ominously over Hunter and me. I realised something this morning when I heard him trying to soothe Frankie, begging him to let him sleep a bit longer.
I miss Hunter.
I miss him so much. I miss him teasing me, I miss him making stupid jokes. I miss him! I even miss his horrible coffee. He is sitting right next to me in the car, but I still miss him. With Declan in the area, he almost acts like himself around me. It helps to fill that void a little. The drive home isn't half as quiet and tense as the one to the store had been.
The Dragon Wagon is parked just outside the Drakes' garage and Hunter pulls his mother's car under the canopy next to the garage, where we found it earlier. My mother's car is taking up the Bug Mobile's normal spot in the garage to allow Uncle Ryan to take the engine apart. At least, that is what he appears to be doing.
I hop out of the vehicle, leave the 2 shopping bags to the boys, and run up the patio steps to the house. I cannot wait to show Paisley what I've done with her ballet skirt earlier this morning.
♫
Hunter
Dex stops me when we've each taken a shopping bag from the car and I'm about to follow Willow into the house.
"Hey," he says, grinning at me. "It's going to be alright. Willow is a kind lass; she's not gonna hold it against ye forever. Ye shouldn't either. And who's to say she didn't like that kiss as much as ye did?"
I sigh, pulling up my shoulders, and give Declan a miserable look. "You didn't see how upset she was afterwards. Didn't you see how uncomfortable she is around me now?"
"Aye, but that's just because ye're acting like a bleeding muppet around her."
"I'm not! What the hell does that even mean?!" Dex often calls people muppets, but I don't think he's referring to the multi-coloured collection of ugly puppets. I once asked him which one he meant, Gonzo or Elmo. He just looked at me as if I'd lost my marbles and then asked me if he was supposed to know those "blokes."
"Aye, but ye are! I'm half expecting ye to fall all over yerself again and break some bones this time. When ye smile, ye look like fecking Chucky." At some point in his life, the movie, Child's Play left some deep scars on Declan's gentle soul.
I try to glare at him, but it's really hard to glare at him with any conviction. Almost as hard as it is to glare at Asher.
"Hey, buddy, don't look like someone pissed in yer cornflakes. It's going to be alright; I tell ye." He puts a brotherly arm around my shoulders, and we start to walk up the patio steps. "Look, ye told me ye want to be friends with the girl, right? There's nothing wrong with being friends. Friendship is a good thing. If ye don't want to be anything else, that's up to ye."
"Yeah, I'd like to be friends with her," I really do. "Sitting on the floor next to my bed chatting with Willow had been one of the most relaxing things I've ever done. I'd like to be able to do it again. It was nice." I smile at the memory.
I actually miss Willow.
"Well go on with ye then! Look, ye said that ye're finding it hard to speak to her, right?"
"Right." Well, I did find it hard at first and then it somehow got better. We even had that awesome chat. Now it's worse than before. Now it's damn near impossible to even say one full sentence to her. It's torture.
"I think I've figured out the problem with the whole speaking-to-her thing," Dex informs me, giving me hope.
"Yeah?"
"Aye! Speaking to someone doesn't involve sticking yer tongue in their mouths. That's where things went wrong, Mate. It's kinda hard to speak when yer tongue is-"
I pump my fist into his ribs, and he chortles happily.
"Hey, I'm trying to be helpful, ye gobshite!"
I'm beginning to see why Galen sometimes feels the need to punch Dex. I've never been able to empathize with that arsehole until this moment.
"Fine, I'll refrain from sticking my tongue into her mouth next time I try to talk to her," I say and almost swallow that tongue when the front door opens in the middle of my sentence, and out steps Aunt B.
She blushes and smiles, blinking her eyes rapidly, clearly uncomfortable with the sentence she'd just walked into.
Please tell me we didn't use Willow's name in any part of our conversation she might've heard!
"Hey, Aunt B," I squeak because I've suddenly sprained my voice. "Meet my best buddy, Declan McKenna. Dex, this is Willow's mother, Rebecca Mayfair."
I glance at Dex and he is as red as I'm feeling. To my relief, he is being dependable Dex, the head boy of Briar High, pride and joy of the community. Not Dex, the bastard who sometimes sounds like one of the stone gargoyles in the Fable game.
♫
Willow
"Can I help with anything?" I ask, popping into the kitchen where Tanner and Aunt Beth are already causing the most amazing aromas to fill the air.
"Yeah, Prissy, keep Hunter and Paise out of the kitchen, will you?" Tanner is wearing one of Aunt Beth's frilly aprons. The look is a bit disconcerting; it doesn't blend well with his exposed arm muscles and his strong-looking legs.
He is dressed in jeans that have been cut off just above the knees and left to fray, and a short-sleeved t-shirt. He is somehow managing to look manly, sexy, and too femininely pretty all at the same time.
"I'll t-try," I mutter, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.
"Dinner might depend on it, dear," Aunt Beth laughs.
I stay at the door watching them a bit longer. I've never seen this side of Tanner before. He handles chopping knives deftly and manages to keep a variety of appliances going without missing a beat.
He and Aunt Beth are working together like a well-oiled machine. Well, a machine that laughs a lot. Tanner is very respectful and gently affectionate in his interactions with her. Another side of him I've never seen before. It is clear that they are fond of each other and genuinely love cooking together. I smile as I watch them. It is like watching a beautiful, smooth dance.
"Look! Look! Look!"
Speaking of dancing; one member of the banned horde has just pirouetted into the kitchen. She twirls and does a couple of pretty leaps and then she curtseys daintily. Paisley is dressed in the skirt I repaired this morning. I gave it to her the first chance I had, and she's been showing it off to everybody she dances into.
"Alice fixed it for me! It's so much easier to move in now, it doesn't get in my way at all and it looks really good!"
"Who's Alice?" Aunt Beth asks, the smile she wore while watching Paisley go through her moves, has changed into a frown.
Wouldn't we all like to know?
"Uhm, apparently, that would be... me," I confess, and Aunt Beth gives me a compassionate laugh. Tanner is also chuckling near the stove.
"You really have a talent for this kind of thing," Aunt Beth says, fidgeting with the organza streamers of Paisley's skirt.
"These pants are a bit hard to dance in, though," Paisley chuckles, popping one leg clad in baggy sweatpants out of the side of the skirt and giving the loose material a pluck.
"I cannot imagine those sneakers being any easier to dance with," I agree, watching her steal some of the grated cheese waiting in a bowl.
"Hey, Prissy! I gave you one task," Tanner says nodding towards the door. "Just one."
"Yes, Master!" I say giving him a bow. "Come on Paise, I want to measure my paper patterns on you," I say, pulling her towards the door leading into the dining room.
"Is that code for something weird, Alice?"
♫
Paisley
Willow pinned paper cut-outs to the mid-thigh length chemise she made me change into. According to her, baggy t-shirts and sweatpants are not conducive to establishing effective measurements... or something with some hoity-toity words like that in it.
To me, it looks like a mess, but she seems to be really pleased with what she's seeing. Well, I'm starting to believe that she actually knows what she's doing. She did a wonderful job with the dance skirt. I'm thrilled. She doesn't know it yet, but I plan to send a shitload of costumes her way.
The amateur dance company I belong to doesn't have much of a budget for costume care. We all chip in and fix what we can. I often feel that our productions would look more at home on a makeshift stage at the town's dump site. I am going to have the prettiest costumes from now on. If I decide to be nice, I'll let her fix some of the other dancers' costumes too.
Not Jennifer Bitchley's though. I'm never that nice. She can just tramp it.
Well, actually, Jennifer doesn't need Willow's help. Her mama is constantly forking out cash as if it comes from the tap in their backyard. Jennifer's costumes always glitter and shine against the rest of ours. No need for a spotlight on her.
She only wears clothing (ballet costumes included) made by professionals. She said so herself. No drooping hemlines and wilted frills for her, thank you very much. Pity, she cannot dance for shit.
Hate the bitch.
"Ow!" I jump when Willow pricks me with a pin.
"I'm so sorry!"
"How much more of this torture do I have to endure?" I ask, being dramatic. The pinprick didn't hurt as much it just surprised me. But I really do need to go pee and I'm afraid that Hunter is going to gobble up all the snacks Tan-Tan dumped in the living room to stop us from stealing food while he's cooking.
For some reason, he hates it when we do that. It could be because it often causes him to run out of ingredients before he's done.
"Almost finished."
"I think you've said that ten times already."
I glance at the dining table where the material is laid out, ready to receive the patterns when Willow is happy with them. I love it. I've never seen material like it before in my life. I cannot believe I'm actually going to be wearing that.
"This is going to be perfect for the matric dance." I have actually been stressing about where I was going to get a suitable dress that I could actually afford.
Willow gives me an amused look. "You're going to keep it for an entire year before you wear it? What if your figure changes?"
"Why would my figure change? I'm not planning on getting pregnant, you know?"
Willow giggles nervously at that statement. Really, she's such a prude. On second thought, getting pregnant might actually solve so many of my problems. I wonder if her brain would explode if I shared that piece of wisdom with her.
"Anyway, I didn't mean our matric dance. I meant the one coming up in September this year."
♫
Willow
"You have a date for this year's matric farewell?" I'm astonished and also very curious about the mystery boy Paisley might be involved with.
I do remember her sending those pouty selfies to someone and I definitely don't think it was to a Korean actor she's never met in real life. I wish she'd start to trust me enough to just tell me about him... if there really is someone.
Oh, my word, I'm such a hypocrite!
There are plenty of things I'm not telling her about either. One of those things is the boy I'm losing my heart to, also known as her unofficial twin brother, Hunter Drake.
"Well, obviously! You didn't think I'd let the guys go without me, did you? Why should they get to have all the fun?"
Lovely, now I'm confused again.
"You're going as their date? All of them?"
"Not all of them. If some of them get other dates, it will be fine."
"How generous of you," I laugh, shaking my head. "I think you're going to look amazing."
"I know," she grins, her confidence in my abilities is making me blush. I'd better not mess this up.
I've done all my measurements and made all the required marks on the patterns. I am so happy about how this is coming together. I'm actually starting to think that I might be able to do this. I really hope I succeed. I want Paisley to have the prettiest dress at the dance.
She starts to fidget and move her feet around while I'm painstakingly extracting all the pins from the chemise.
"Seriously, Alice! I'm going to piss on the carpet if you don't hurry it up!"
Just how crude can she be?
"Oh, my word!" I ramp up the speed at which I'm working and with the last pin removed, Paisley pulls up her sweatpants from around her ankles, plucks on her t-shirt and runs from the dining room. I watch her go with a smile on my face. Never a dull moment with her around.
♪
Having restored order to the dining room, I enter my bedroom to see if Paisley has completed her bathroom emergency. I find her sitting on my bed, staring at her phone, Little-Piddle curled up in her lap. From the little I can see; she seems to be browsing images. She's looking decidedly glum.
"Hey, are you alright? You didn't wet yourself, did you?"
Startled, she looks up at me, blinking rapidly. She smiles, slipping her phone back into the pocket of her sweatpants. "Just made it," she smiles. "Seriously, Alice, it was really hard to pee with this one constantly trying to jump into my lap. How do you stand it?"
I gape at her with huge eyes. "I... don't let him come in with me?"
Paisley considers this information for a few seconds and then she gives that throaty chortle that always makes me laugh with her. "That is such a good plan," she says.
I watch her smile fade, her eyes roaming my room, not really looking at anything. She picks up the zombie novel Hunter must've left on the bedside table for me when he brought in the shopping. After frowning at the cover for a few seconds, she sets it down again and sighs.
"Are you sure you're alright? You seem a bit... off..."
"I could interpret that statement in so many different ways," she smiles sadly, stroking her ballet skirt when I lay it out on the bed. She left it in the dining room in her hurry to reach the bathroom. "But I won't. Not today. I guess I'm a little blue."
"Would you like to talk about it?" I move the chemise she'd taken off at some point so that I can sit down next to her. Reaching out, I brush some stray strands of hair from her shoulder. I think she tried to do her hair in one of the styles I'd shown her then got bored or fed up along the way and just gave up. The result is a collapsed knot of escaping tendrils.
"I'm pretty good at listening, you know, and I won't blab."
Paisley looks at me for a while, a wistful shine in her eyes, and then she smiles a little woefully. "I don't think I can... some things are just too hard to say out loud, you know? But thanks..."
"Yes," I agree, being an expert on the subject of finding things too hard to say. "Some things are. Well, you know where I am if you change your mind, okay?"
She grabs my arm when I get up. "Can you fix it? My hair," she adds when I frown at her, not sure what she wants from me.
I smile nodding towards the vanity chair. "Now that will be easy to do."
Paisley's mood seems to improve along with her hairstyle. By the time we leave my room to go hunt for snacks in the living area (her description of our next activity), she is once again galloping and twirling rather than walking.
Hunter, Tanner, and Asher are seated on the couch. Rather normally, I might add. They seem captivated by the game Jake and Declan are playing on the television and have completely forgotten to lounge in a disorderly fashion.
"Who's cooking if you're in here hanging out with the rubble, Chef Tan-Tan?!" Paisley demands an answer to the question popping into my head as well. Well, not in those exact words, of course.
"Waiting for the ovennnowww!" Tanner's explanation ends in a yowl of pain when Paisley launches herself at the couch, landing on top of them. Ignoring the protests and complaints, she wrestles herself into a comfortable position across the three laps already there.
She is all elbows and knees. Her antics are definitely not designed to be gentle or comfortable. She means to torture and from their reactions, she's succeeding.
"Seriously, Paise, that hurts!" Hunter moans and then he laughs when she turns and digs her fingers into his ribs. "Stop it!"
"Wait, wait, Paise," Tanner gasps," if you're going to do this, at least make it fun for us too, huh? If you'll move your hand a little to the left, that will be great. No, no... here, give me your hand, I'll show you..."
"Yeah," Hunter agrees, groaning. "Can you squirm a little bit more towards this side... Ah, yeah," he sighs, "you're almost there..."
I can tell that they are just messing with her, but Paisley bolts from the couch as if she got stung by a bee.
"Ew!" she shouts. "Eeeeeewwww! Just eeeew! You guys are pigs! You're such pigs! Pigs!"
The three stooges on the couch are laughing now, clearly happy with the result their performance has achieved.
"Okay, Goldy Locks, we get it, we're pigs," Tanner says matter-of-factly. "You should know by now not to just sit in any chairs, lie on any beds and eat other people's porridge. Have you learned nothing at all?"
Paisley blinks at him. She punches a fist into her side and tilts her head, giving him a decidedly cheeky look.
"If I'm Goldy Locks, you three pig-asses are in the wrong story," she points out with authority, tapping the toe of one sneaker on the floor.
"Really?" Tanner looks from Hunter on his right to Asher on his left. They both nod their heads, confirming that "Goldy Locks and the Three Pigs" has indeed never been a thing. "Hah..." Tanner finally concedes, enlightened by this news.
"Pigs," Paisley spits, reiterating her stance on the matter. "Even you, Ashy," she says dejectedly.
Asher sits up straighter, colour rising in his face as all eyes turn on him. Even Jake and Declan have abandoned their game to look speculatively up at him from the comfort of the floor. Why are they always doing this to him?
He shakes his head, looking from one face to another, and mutters: "I didn't do anything."
He really didn't. I was a rather perplexed witness to this entire disturbing scene, after all.
"Hmmmm," is the general consensus, before he is allowed to escape their scrutiny. He brushes a hand through his unruly hair and turns his attention to the windows, suddenly very interested in the backyard.
Paisley grabs a bowl of crisps from the coffee table and curls up in a bean bag near the glass doors. If I am ever asked to describe angry eating, I'll simply picture this scene in my mind for inspiration. Hunter watches her, his eyes narrowing more and more with each handful of chips aggressively disappearing into her mouth.
"Seriously! Are you going to snort all the chips now?"
She presses her lips together and flashes her eyes at him, before opening her mouth wide to accommodate another load of chips. "If you want some, come and get it," she splutters with her mouth full, spraying chip fragments as she speaks. She is really poking the bear now, even I can see that.
"You think I won't?" Hunter asks in a low, dangerous voice. Paisley just thumbs her nose at him, before grabbing another handful of chips.
That is it. The final bite to destroy his self-control. I watch in amused horror as Hunter storms the bean bag and sits down on Paisley, wrestling the bowl from her grasp. I think the floor is receiving more chips than either of them will be having. Fortunately, we have a big cat named Rover and she is already fulfilling her vacuuming duties.
I gingerly sit down on one of the beanbags on the other side of the room from them. I'm very pleased with my wise decision to wear pants in preparation for the visit from the wild people today.
I'm not sure whether Paisley needs saving or not. Nobody seems to be too concerned about her, even though she's shrieking rather loudly. She is also intermittently laughing, begging Hunter to get off her. All I see are amused faces, desensitized to the mild violence taking place in their midst.
Jake and Declan have resumed their game, unfazed by the imminent murder in their vicinity. A shrill ring from the kitchen spurs Tanner into action, but the only possible victim he is going to rescue is whatever dish he has in the oven. He rushes by me and disappears into the kitchen.
I surreptitiously glance at Asher and am surprised to see him looking more lost and lonelier than being abandoned on the sofa should have him look. He is also watching the crispy wrestling match, but his eyes seem to be focused on something much further away.
Hunter has apparently forgotten that he was trying to get the chips. The bowl has somehow ended up safely out of the way of the scuffle on the beanbag. Its contents are now safe from further spillage.
Tickling Paisley has become his sole mission and she, in turn, is apparently trying to free him of his hair. Looking closely I can see that he is not really resting his weight on the fragile-looking girl, he is supporting most of it himself. At first glance, the brawl looks so much worse than it actually is.
Satisfied with the measure of punishment he'd delivered as a reward for taunting him, Hunter stops tickling Paisley. Instead, he makes himself comfortable, trapping her between his body and the bean bag.
"Get off me, you big oaf!" Paisley complains.
"Why? Isn't this really comfortable? Want me to poke my elbow into your thigh a bit? You seemed to enjoy that kind of thing a lot. Wanna be on the receiving end of it for a bit?"
"Noooooooo!" Paisley screams and then she's giggling again. "Get off! Hunnyyyyyyyy! Go sit on Alice, she looks lonely."
Hunter turns his head to look at me and I jump to my feet. Once I'm standing, I feel a little silly. Declan is giving me a knowing grin and Hunter looks like he's lost his teddy bear. Unsure of what to do with myself now that I'm standing, I start to clear the coffee table of candy wrappers and empty mugs.
"Apparently, she doesn't want me to," Hunter mumbles.
He rises from the bean bag, making sure to inflict as much discomfort on Paisley as possible in the process. Giving me a lopsided grin, he starts to help me clean up the living area, getting it ready for the next round of destruction.
♪♫♪