"I understand, but your behaviour is unacceptable, Dean." Iris' accent was unmistakable and she didn't sound happy.
"Last time I checked, you worked for me, so what gives you the right to tell me what's best for my business?" he snapped, equally as pissed.
I was actually looking forward to training that morning because I had woken up to find my two best snuggling—a word I promised never to use but there was no other way to describe it. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn't want to find out. So, I left the house in a hurry and found myself overhearing an argument between Iris and Dean.
"You're a stubborn ass," Iris shouted, clearly irritated.
Dean didn't say anything but I didn't have to see him to know he had that famous death glare on his face. I could have poked my head through the gap in the door of his office and interrupt before it got any further, but I didn't because [1] I didn't feel like going into work for training anymore and [2] Dean sounded more pissed than usual, which I didn't think was possible.
So, like the polite-and-extremely-lazy-human-being I am, I went to the changing rooms and locked myself up in a cubical with numerous delightful images of the male and female anatomy. Then I got engrossed in an intense game of Temple Run.
Now, I get pretty into a game, whether it be on my phone or the Xbox and I unconsciously make a lot of grunting noises, like tennis players on the sports channel. So, because of this, I didn't hear the evident sound of footsteps approaching my stall.
"Holden," Dean growled.
I instantly quit out of the app.
"I know you're in here, kid. And I also happen to know that you've been eavesdropping on my personal conversations, so you better get your ass out of that damn cubical."
That was enough to convince me. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I unlocked the door and let it swing open until I saw a pretty angry Dean. His arms were crossed against his chest, muscles flexed. And with his Grumpy Cat expression, it never failed to intimidate me. I leaned against the frame of the cubical and jerked my chin at him.
"What's up?"
He looked at me, clearly irritated. "You're dismissed."
I faltered, slowly straightening. "You mean, I'm fired?"
I had never been fired before.
"No," he answered angrily, scrubbing a hand down his face. "You're dismissed for the day. I don't know how much longer I can tolerate looking at your face."
Consciously, I was having an internal battle between holy-freaking-crap-this-is-awesome and great-now-I-have-do-go-back-to-my-two-best-friends-having-a-sleepover-snuggle. Unfortunately, I couldn't stick around and debate over it because Dean's super glare pierced into me.
I refused to squirm or cower, so I grabbed my stuff, swung it over my shoulder and started walking. Wordlessly, of course, for a dramatic effect—but mostly because it looked like his temper timer was about to blow up. As much as I really wanted to be his personal punching bag, I had other priorities.
As I walked out of the locker rooms and towards the exit, Iris poked her head out from Dean's office, a wad of papers in her tattooed hand and an icy expression. But when she realised it was me, her anger slowly dissolved to sympathy. Her iron grip on the files in her hands released and she smoothed out the wrinkles against her leg.
"Holden, honey," she said, bringing the documents into her arms. "I'm sorry you overheard our conversation earlier."
"Sorry for eavesdropping."
She smiled meekly. "How much did you hear?"
"Not much, but enough to understand that he's pretty pissed," I answered. "Well, more pissed than usual."
Iris seemed somewhat relived for a moment before she smiled. "He's an ass. But he has his reasons. You should get going before he throws another one of his childish tantrums."
"I was just thinking the same thing," I answered.
"Great minds think alike." She winked, then disappeared back inside.
Closing the front door to the house caused my friends to wake up. At first, they just shifted positions, curling back into each other, but when Tess opened her eyes slightly, she realised their situation and sprang away. This evident loss of body heat made Quinton to regain consciousness and he looked at her, kind of disappointed and embarrassed.
Although two of us actually lived in the house and had two separate bedrooms to accommodate, we all slept on the floor of the lounge room. It was for two pretty legit reasons. [1] We were way too tired to climb a whole flight of stairs and [2] It was close to the downstairs bathroom when the throwing up commenced.
To conceal his mixed emotions about Tess repelling from him, Quinton flipped onto his side and grinned at her mischievously. "Sleep well, beautiful?"
"The sight of your face is making my hangover worse," she answered, but her tone was playful.
"Did I just hear the word 'hangover'?" Beth said as she descended the stairs. She looked like one pretty angry mama bear.
"No," Tess said sheepishly, looking away to avoid her mother's intense glare.
"Are you all hung over?" she questioned, now sharing her scowl between all three of us.
"No," Quinton mimicked Tess' tone; sheepish and sing-song like.
"Holden?" Beth addressed me with her motherly, authoritative voice.
I shook my head. "I played chaperone and chauffeur."
"Suck up," Tess coughed.
"Then I hope you're hungry because you'll be eating Tess and Quinton's pancakes for breakfast," she announced before heading into the kitchen.
"Mum, that's favouritism!" Tess cried, pouting like a child. Then she turned to me and hissed, "Goody two shoes."
"I haven't had a real breakfast in over a week and I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to get triple my share. A guy has got to eat, you know," I answered, enjoying watching Tess roll around like a dying whale as she complained.
"Dude, too far. That's breaking section seven of the Bro Code: Never steal another bro's food. Sharing is caring," Quinton said, shaking his head at me.
"Thought it was section nine," I replied teasingly, their reactions fuelling my hunger.
"Beyond the point."
"Look, you guys would have thrown it up anyways," I answered, further drawing out their torment. "Think of it as a favour; I'm not letting you waste perfectly good food."
Tess clutched her stomach and curled up in a ball, rolling around on the carpet like a human sized egg. "Quinton, make it stop talking."
Quinton obeyed. He picked up a pillow from the lounge and threw it at me. I caught it before taking the almost-blow to the face and grinned at them. They scowled right back. Tossing the pillow back where it belonged, I sighed dramatically.
"I guess I could share..."
"Yes!" Tess shot up and threw her arms up in triumph.
"I said 'could' not 'would'," I pointed out, which earned me the coldest bloody stare I had ever seen. Even Dean couldn't compare with his evil eyes.
"That. Was. Mean."
"Sorry," I finally caved, trying to hold back my laughter. "C'mon, let's go set the table. I'm starved."
Beth scowled at Tess and Quinton but made no more effort to express her disappointment. Like any mother, she didn't approve of alcohol, but she wasn't the punishing type. She believed in self disciplinary and seemed both worried and satisfied by the remains of their hangovers evident in their tired expressions. I watched as she had an internal battle with her thoughts; unsure of whether to hug them or continue the silent parenthood mechanism.
She didn't have to think much longer though because there was a knock on the door. Beth seemed almost relieved as she wiped her hands on a towel and walked towards the front of the house. On her way over though, she tapped both Quinton and Tess' shoulders and nodded for them to clean themselves up. It was unspoken communication but they understood perfectly, as if the words had left her mouth.
While Beth was out of the kitchen and my friends were upstairs, I snuck towards the bowl of ingredients and dipped my finger in. But as I was licking the batter off, a family walked into the room: The Jeffersons. Quickly, I disposed of the evidence and wiped my hands on my jeans just as Flo appeared.
She was the picturesque image of a fifty's Coca-Cola poster girl with her vintage attire. Unconsciously, she reached up and adjusted the white band of fabric in her hair, sliding the bow towards the side of her scalp. I hadn't realised the size of my grin until Flo smiled back at me in this why-the-hell-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that kind of way. I dropped the smirk and tried for a more mysterious-bad-boy expression, but that only made her bite her lip to contain her laughter.
As I drew my attention away from her, I examined her family and wondered how someone so perfect, so different, so Flo had come from a family like the Jeffersons. Her parents looked like two hardcore business partners who invested in hotels and other various industries. They had determined eyes, suggesting a hunger for achievement. Flo wasn't like that. She had her head in the clouds, lost in her own imagination, constellations shimmering in her faded green eyes.
"Holden, honey, did you hear me?"
I mentally gathered myself and turned towards my step-mother. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I said you should show Flo around," Beth answered, already behind the counter again as she stirred the homemade pancake mix, "while I get breakfast ready."
I turned to Flo who shrugged in agreement before leading her out of the kitchen. When it came to giving girls tours, I was a helpless cause. Even when it was just to direct them to the bathroom or something, I'd give them so many wrong directions, they'd probably end up in Mexico.
"Uh," I said awkwardly, placing my hand against the nape of my neck and sucking in my breath.
"I actually have to grab something from my house," Flo interjected my awkward mumbling and pointed towards the door. I just smiled sheepishly and pathetically, letting her lead us out.
Outside it was warm, instantly making me break out in sweat. With the summer heat and the nervousness of being with a beautiful creature like Flo, I imagined I'd be swimming in my own perspiration by the time we reached her doorstep. While the beating sun whipped all the energy from me and I refrained from weakly crawling towards the neighbouring house, Flo was a bundle of energy as she leaped over the adjoining hedges and onto the turf.
Reaching the shade by the front of her house was a complete bliss and I had to swallow back the groan of satisfaction I wanted to desperately make. While I waited for her to open her door, I wondered what her room would be like.
Other than Tess', I hadn't really stayed long enough to properly examine any other girl's room. My step-sister's was pretty much a mirror image of mine; bed, study desk, bookshelves, CDs. Other than the random bra on her floor or awkward box of tampons lying around, our rooms were pretty much identical.
I wondered if Flo had bras and tampons lying around.
I didn't have to wait much longer to find out though because once we were inside, it was up the stairs and through the first door on the left. When she opened the door, I hesitated for a brief moment. I mean, this was unknown territory, sacred space.
What if she really wanted to make out?
Because I really wanted to make out.
Once I was inside, it was like my freaking eyeballs exploded. There was so much to look at, so much to admire, so much to remember. One of her walls was completely covered in tickets of all sorts; movies, concerts, transportation, festivals and events. Bookshelves lined another wall, harvesting so many books that a lot had to be stacked hazardously on the floor; classics like Frankenstein, Orlando, Shakespeare.
In the corner sat a gramophone, surrounded by a sea of vinyl records, from Led Zeppelin to The Beatles to Michael Jackson. Quotes and photographs were pinned up on her dresser, with images of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn. Movie posters for Breakfast at Tiffany's, Forrest Gump and The Breakfast Club were hung up too. The large space of her bedroom seemed too small to contain the classics of her life; music, movies, idols, books.
It was like I had just been swallowed into a timeline of history.
"I think I'm in love with you," I blurted. It was meant to be a spontaneous response to being so amazed, but once the words left my mouth, an unsettling weight rested in my stomach.
"I think I might be with you too," she answered, but her back was turned and her voice was playful, suggesting no hint of seriousness to her words.
Only time would tell if 'I think' turned into 'I am'.