"Do you want dinner?" Juliette asks. We moved to the kitchen while Ophelia was busy watching her show. Juliette still had that cream on her shins, all the way up to her knees. She was suddenly stiff the second I walked in—and I don't blame her.
This afternoon, right after I came home from work, Ophelia was playing in the front yard with some girl that was much older than her—assuming it was her babysitter. She ran over to me, barely giving me any time to react before hugging me and asking me a million and one questions.
The babysitter was immediately confused, questioning who I was. Ophelia was the type to explain something to someone before anyone else could—which she most definitely did to the babysitter.
She invited me over, telling me to come to movie night. I immediately refused, but she began to pout and give me these puppy dog eyes that made me hate myself for caving.
"I already ate," I say, standing awkwardly in the corner. I wasn't sure what to do, maybe I could just slither my way out of here without Ophelia noticing.
She nodded her head, walking out of the kitchen. "Why you got that all over your leg?" I ask, realizing I probably interrupted whatever she was doing. But seeing her, with the cream on her shin brought the dirtiest thoughts to my mind that I wanted to internally die.
"Shin splints, which is why I used the icey hot. I have a massage gun to roll out of calf's and thighs. I'm also icing the shin splints. Then before I go to sleep I put a little icey hot on my shoulder and back," she explained—grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
I nod, already knowing most of this. When you have excessive training, you get injured like crazy. I've had so many shin splits I stopped counting. I've twisted, broken, fractured as many things as possible.
When I was younger, I was in sports, along with also doing basic military and martial arts training. My father expected to drill all that stuff into my impressionable brain—hoping by the time I turned eighteen I'd be a cadet like he was.
"Sounds painful," I simply reply, seemingly unamused. After last week, I don't want to talk to her, or be in the same room as her for that matter. But I can't stop myself when Ophelia comes over and begs me to hang out with them. I can't stop thinking about the beautiful brunette next door.
She doesn't acknowledge my words, just walking back to the couch where the movie was playing. Ophelia was pillowed around snacks and stuffed animals. Anything you could think of was next to her. Popcorn, chips, chocolate milk, gummy bears, twizzlers.
"Want some," Ophelia asked with a mouthful of popcorn. I shook my head no, which caused a small shrug from her small frame. I sat uncomfortable between the two, but to any pair of outside eyes; we looked like a happy family.
Family.
The word even made me cringe. I never had a close amount of people to call family. My father was either deployed or drunk off his mind at some bar in the middle of who knows where, to remember his wife and kid at home. My mom tried making up for this, but when she came home from work—some days—the last thing she wanted to do was be with me.
I'm not saying I resent them. I just wish they were there more often. "I need to get something," Ophelia abruptly states, smirking at me in a not so sly way, before getting up. I looked between her and Juliette, confused.
Juliette just shrugged to me, turning her attention back to the kids movie. I did the same, trying not to make it as awkward as it already is. "I'm sorry," I finally speak, trying to thin the tension between us.
"About?" She says, barely lifting her gaze from the tv to look at me. She knew exactly what it was about, but she just wanted to test me. It was making my blood boil slightly, but when she turned and the beauty that was her eyes and stern face made me forget why I was even mad.
"The fight. I didn't mean to do that, it wasn't mature what so ever," I explain, sighing at the fact that I was actually apologizing when I had nothing to be sorry for. That prick deserved every punch thrown at him.
She nodded her head slowly. "He kind of deserves it," she speaks barely above a whisper, a silent chuckle heaving in her chest—catching me by surprise.
I laugh too, feeling the tension cut as her laugh bubbled louder in sync with mine. "He really did." Never thought I'd be laughing with the same person who called me a monster a week ago. But this felt right.
I'm just happy that now I don't have a crying little girl at my doorstep asking why I won't accepter her dinosaur shaped broccoli, or why I haven't came over all week. I think Ophelia is more attached with me than anyone else.
"Are we good now?" I asks, raising my brows at her.
"Yeah, we are," she replies, wiping a couple of loose tears that came from her laughing. Before I could follow up her reply with a subject change, her phone buzzed with a message. I gave her the privacy to check it—turning my head back to the childish show.
But my attention was abruptly brought back when an excited yelp came from her. I nearly jumped at the reaction to whatever was on her phone. "Either you got some great news, or you just love getting notifications," I joke, pointing out how she barely saw the message before reacting.
She began to laugh, trying to contain her joy and silliness. "No, no I just was really expecting a reply back from these people," she explains, covering her mouth that is beaming in joy. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She is still smiling so wide but also trying to read the message.
I could hear how heavy she was breathing, anticipation building in her. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!" She screeched, jumping up from where she was sitting. Then she immediately sat back as she cursed in pain from whatever random injury she had.
But still, as she sat, she was freaking out over this mysterious text. I couldn't contain my curiosity, wondering what could set off such a reaction. "So you just seriously love getting notifications then," I joke.
"I got accepted! Ophelia come here!" She yells over to the hallway where Ophelia ran off to. When she comes running back, Juliette doesn't wait a second before embracing her in the biggest hug I've ever seen exchanged. "Mommy did it," she whispered while resting her forehead onto the small child in her arms.
"Did what?" I finally ask, overcome in curiosity.
Both the girls turn to me. "I got a spot to try out for the Olympics. But the message was sent by my old coach so that means I'm almost guaranteed a position on the National team!" She can't hold back her excitement as she runs into the kitchen grabbing 'celebratory wine' for both of us.
"Oh my gosh, I need to call my mom. And dad. And friends. They all want to hear about this. And Steph! She has to hear about this. She didn't believe me when I told her I was going to try out again." She is babbling on as she walks back to the small living room area, holding two wine glasses and a large bottle of red wine.
I cover my smile with my hands because she it feels so natural for her to be so extroverted towards anyone. Just a few minutes ago she still didn't like me, and now we are celebrating together like we are old friends.
She handed me a glass, pouring the deep crimson drink into it. "Cheers," she adds as we clink our glasses together. Ophelia scoots closer to me, holding markers in her hand—grinning like she knows I won't say no. And I didn't. She begins to fill in the dark lines with her glitter markers.
Juliette flips through the channel while sipping the wine—looking absolutely gorgeous might I add. And everything felt good. I'd like to believe this was meant to be, that I might actually enjoy the new living situation.
"Mommy," Ophelia pipes up, glancing at her mom who has a ice pack on her shoulder, while she is cuddled up into a pillow.
"Yes sweetheart?" Juliette responds. Have I mentioned how cute I find her little nicknames for Ophelia—my favorite being 'Philly'.
Ophelia continues drawing while she talks. "Can Theo watch me when you go on trips? I don't want Elsa anymore."
"Sweetie, I don't think he'd like that. He also has a full time job," Juliette is interjecting, but before she could continue I object—not realizing how my mouth and brain works apparently because they seem to not be connected anymore.
"I don't mind," I say, not being able to stop myself as the words speak for me. "Ophelia stays occupied for hours just drawing, and I live nearby so it's perfect. And if she needs protecting. . . well we already have an answer for that." I'm smiling like an idiot at the easy arrangements.
"You seriously don't need to," Juliette waves her hand, sitting up a little straighter.
"I don't mind," I repeat. "My work schedule is extremely flexible anyways, I'd love to be her nanny. And since you are going to be some big shot Olympian, you might need one." So maybe I do want to be a little closer to this small family that has captured my heart so quickly.
Juliette can't speak another word before Ophelia is jumping up and down. "Yay!" She keeps saying, overjoyed with the arrangements.
Juliette smiles to Ophelia, and once she leaves to grab more markers or whatever she needs, Juliette's eyes narrow on me. "She is attached to you. If you ever think that at any moment you will give up on her, then don't make any promises to my daughter."
"I won't hurt a fly, might as well a three year old kid," I simply reply, proud with my answer; I take a sip of my wine. Juliette has been the only person I have wanted to get close with like this since my last girlfriend.