☆Blaze☽
Chapter 5:
I was bewildered enough when Beatle said he was getting two booster seats, and when he came back with only one, I was just completely confused.
He fastened the pink car seat in and seat belted her while she smiled gleefully.
"I thought you were getting both booster seats?" I questioned, and they both looked at me strangely. Beatle closed the back door and walked around to the driver's side again.
"I only have one seat, silly." The little girl laughed at me and Beatle started up the car.
"I don't understand," I sighed and placed my head onto my hand. Beatle laughed and coughed awkwardly as he started to drive away from the ballet school.
"She was asking which mom would have my neck."
"Which Mom? Oh."
"Do you have two moms too?" Robyn's eyes widened at me and her eyebrows perked up. She was so adorable; she was even wearing the stereotypical pink tutu.
"Um, no. I don't."
"Oh." She pursed her lips in an expression that I think was supposed to be annoyance, but I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at her.
"I guess you're okay. You have the same name as the deer in Open Season." I nodded along with her logic, though I had never actually seen the movie Open Season. It wasn't like I could get myself a kid's popcorn combo and just walk in there with my 3D glasses on and see a movie. Okay, so may I could and maybe I had before, but I wouldn't now.
"Who's your favourite princess? Do you like Frozen?" I asked, turning backwards to try and have a conversation with the small child. I heard Beatle snicker as Robyn screwed up her face in distaste at me.
"I hate princesses."
"How could you hate princesses? Everyone has a favourite. Mine is Sleeping Beauty, all she does is sleep and she has three fairies that take care of everything for her." Robyn pressed her lips into a straight line and looked upwards, like she was considering it. Aurora really did have it made, I wasn't quite sure when I had seen that movie.
"Who's your favourite princess, Beatle?" I smirked at him and he looked thoughtfully around the interior of the car before clearing his throat.
"The blonde chick in Frozen."
"Elsa?"
"Yeah, her," he said with an eye roll and I turned back to look at Robyn. She was trying to blow a strand of black hair out of eyes, and it wasn't working out for her. She was getting more frustrated every time. I reached out a tucked it behind her ear, and she beamed at me.
"I guess I like Tiana," she whispered to me with her hand cupped to my ear so Beatle couldn't hear. I smiled at her, "That's a good choice."
The car stopped in front of Beatle's house, I recognized it vaguely from the time I had ended up there after getting knocked out on the bridge.
"Do you want to come in? Parents aren't home. That would be why I have her." He shoved his thumb backwards in the direction of Robyn and she giggled. I bit on my lip before nodding. I was going to be in trouble whenever I got home anyways for leaving Hayden on the side of the road, I might as well put off going home as long as possible.
I stepped out of the car and opened up the back door, helping Robyn out of her car seat. She slapped my hands away with a pout and I stood back, looking at her.
"You're not doing it right," she sang as Beatle laughed, pushing me out of the way and quickly unbuckling her. He lifted her out of the car seat and swung her around before putting her feet on the ground, causing her to emit a series of giggles.
"Can we make cookies?" Her sky blue eyes stared up at Beatle, and he smiled, ruffling her hair and messing up her bun.
"Sure, princess."
"I don't want to be a princess!" Robyn pouted and stomped her slippered foot. "I want to be... Batman!" She took off running towards the front door, and Beatle let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Of course you do," he muttered and locked the car with the click of a button, then proceeded to follow Robyn, whom was not-so-patiently waiting at the door.
Beatle pushed the door open and Robyn took off, running into the kitchen. Beatle stopped to take off his Converse shoes while she got on her tip toes, looking through a shelf of books. I slipped off my shoes and went to help her.
"I can't- I can't- I can't reach!" Robyn cried out between aggravated groans. I laughed at the small girl and reached out to take the book she was reaching for, a cook book.
"Thank you!" She smiled brightly before ripping the book from my hands and plopping straight down on the floor, flipping the pages at a rapid speed.
"Lennon! I want this one." Beatle came in a second later and we both exchanged a look of fear when we saw what she was pointing at. It was a very extravagant butterfly cookie. It was probably the size of her face, and it had two beautiful blue wings, decorated with yellow and pink stripes and dots.
"I think that may be a bit beyond our skill level," Beatle replied, patting Robyn on the back. She pouted and looked back at the picture before walking away dejectedly. She dropped in on the floor and went up the stairs, her head down.
"That was so depressing."
"I know. It's like puppy-dog eyes times a thousand."
"I think we can do it," I said, picking the cookbook off the ground and scanning the ingredients and preparation.
"Do what?"
"Make the cookie."
"Yeah, right," Beatle snorted and looked over my shoulder at the recipe.
"I'm serious! Let's try." I mean, how hard could it be?
"Fine, but remember this was your idea." He pointed an accusatory finger at me and I rolled my eyes back at him, reading the first line out loud.
"This was a horrible idea," I muttered. My hands were wrist deep in the mixture, and flour seemed to be everywhere but actually in the bowl.
"You don't say." Beatle flicked sugar at me and I narrowed my eyes at him, still trying to get the batter to make the shape of a butterfly.
"Shut up, I don't see you helping."
"I'm supervising."
I snorted loudly, finally abandoning my endless mission and shoving it into the oven, deciding that if Robyn got a lopsided butterfly we could tell her it was a warrior and those were its battle wounds.
"Oh, God." I grasped the counter behind me and surveyed the mess. It looked like a tornado had blown through the kitchen. Beatle was sitting near an open window, smoking a cigarette. How many had he smoked today?
I tried to brush the thought away as I took a cloth and began to sop up the mess.
"Do you want a hand?" He ran the end of the cigarette under the tap before throwing it into the garbage and turning to help, grabbing a pot and beginning to wash it by hand.
The first thing that crossed my mind was sarcasm, or some rude response. That was what I aimed for, that was how the bad ass guys acted. But I decided that maybe, I could just be me for a moment. "Yes, please." I smiled at him and he gave me a half-smile.
After almost an hour, the kitchen was finally returned to its former glory, and the funky looking butterfly cookie had finally been iced. It looked nothing like the picture; in fact, it looked more like a blob than I butterfly. But, I tried.
"Do you think she'll like it?" I asked Beatle as I carried it up the stairs on a plate that was almost the same size as it was.
"She's six, and it's a cookie. What do you think?" I couldn't argue with that logic. Beatle pointed out which room was hers, and he knocked on the door without hesitation. It was a special knock, one hard knock followed my three short ones.
I noticed her small blue eye looking through the key hole, and then the door was cracked open an inch- only enough for her mouth to be visible.
"Password?" She asked into Beatle's ear. He thought for a second, like he was unsure, and then murmured something back to his little sister.
"We made you a cookie." I passed the plate into her small hands, and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Wow! It looks like a rock! It's perfect!" She cried out happily and flung her arms around my thighs. I patted her head awkwardly and she took a huge bite out of the cookie.
"Don't eat all of it or you will get a stomach ache," Beatle warned the small girl as she hungrily licked the crumbs from her fingers, her face a mess of different coloured icing.
"Okay, Lennon," she sang back and I couldn't help but laugh. She was just so darn cute. I always secretly liked kids, and cooking, though I wasn't particularly good with either.
Beatle hooked his thumbs into his jean pockets and walked over to place a kiss on the top of Robyn's head. She beamed at him and then he gave her a small wave before leaving the room and gesturing for me to do the same.
"Do you want to do something somewhat dangerous and probably illegal?" The door to his bedroom was pushed open, revealing the familiar pale blue wall paper and The Beatles posters.
"Not particularly." I shrugged and fiddled with my thumbs awkwardly. Beatle slapped his hand to my leg and used it to push himself up to a standing position.
"Well then, sucks to be you." He grinned and slid open the closet door, pulling out a stack of paper plates from the very back.
"Oh, yay! Arts and crafts with Beatle," I declared sarcastically while he shot me a look of amusement.
"Not quite." He walked over and hauled open his window. It faced onto the street like mine did. Beatle rifled his hand through his pockets until he pulled out a red lighter. He flicked it with his thumb and a flame rose up.
"Please tell me you're not going to light the plate on fire." He shot me a killer smile and then set the flame to the plate, causing a burning smell, and in a few seconds the plate began to become brown-spotted and caught fire.
Beatle leaned out the window with the flaming plate in his hand and looked down the street. He caught sight of an elderly couple, and threw it Frisbee-style in their general direction.
"Are you psychotic?!" I yelled at him while he shrugged nonchalantly and watched the scene unfold before us. The flaming disk flew by a few metres in front of the cute, old couple. It didn't seem to faze them, and there was a two second interval before the lady turned to the man. "Elmer, did I take my meds today?" We could only hear it as a faint whisper from this distance, but it was enough for Beatle to burst with laughter. I whacked his arm and frowned at him.
"That was mean! You could have given them a heart attack!"
"But, I didn't. I think you focus on all the wrong things, Lake."
He lit plate after plate, tossing them into the street. It took everything in me not to laugh at the havoc: people screaming, running for their lives, swearing. Beatle, on the other hand, couldn't stop laughing.
"Here. Do it." He shoved the lighter and the plate into my hand, and I surveyed it for a few moments. It couldn't hurt, just one time.
I took a deep breath and winced as I applied pressure with my thumb to the lighter, but no flame came out. I tried a few more times until the pad of my thumb was sore and Beatle couldn't hold his laughter any more.
"Like this," he chuckled as he placed his thumb over mine, pressing down and to the side quickly. An orange-blue flame popped up and I held the corner of the plate close to it. I watched the flaming plate for a moment before leaning out the window to throw it.
I knew it was a horrible idea, but I never listen to myself. Why do I always try to fit in?
Because I'm me, and I am lucky, I dropped the plate. And instead of falling down the roof, the wind blew the plate into me. It hit me in the chest and I backed up into Beatle's room. Yelling and flailing my arms around as the fire licked away at my shirt.
"Take your shirt off!" I heard him yell it, but the words didn't register. It was painfully hot, though it hadn't quite made complete contact with my skin yet. It felt as though it was searing my shirt to my chest. I'm not going to lie, I was probably screaming, but in my head all I heard was silence. I was too fixated on the fact that my shirt was being eaten by the flame.
Beatle's hand roughly grabbed the back of my shirt, behind my neck, and tugged on it hard. He pulled the shirt off of me and threw it out the window before slamming it shut. There was a spot on his floor from where he had stomped out the plate.
"And I'm the crazy one," he muttered breathlessly. I looked down at my chest; the spot where my shirt had caught was pretty red, and a bit painful to touch.
He disappeared from the room, and reappeared a few minutes later with some sort of ointment and a damp cloth.
"I don't even understand how what you did is even possible." He pressed the cold cloth to the middle of my chest and I winced, trying to push him away.
"You're such a baby," Beatle teased as I continued to try and move away from him. I was more than fine with it taking longer to heal and swelling if it meant I didn't have to deal with it right now, because it fucking hurt.
He pressed me against the wall so I had nowhere left to go, and held the cloth to my skin as my face curled. Beatle was smirking at me. He found this amusing.
"It's not funny!"
"Whatever you say, Lake." After a few moments, he dropped the cloth to the floor and turned the tube over in his hand. He squirted some onto his fingertips as I surveyed is skeptically, and then he quickly pressed it to my chest before I could say anything.
"Holy shit, that burns! Get it off!" I screamed out and placed a hand down to rub it off, but he pinned them to the wall as I writhed underneath him.
"It's just antibiotic cream; it's not going to kill you." Beatle rolled his eyes and the burning sensation soon became a dull, numb feeling. I stopped struggling against his hold on me and it was only then that I fully took in the situation, and how weird it seemed. Beatle had me pinned against his wall, and I was shirtless. Now that I acknowledged that fact, it became significantly harder not to feel self-conscious about my chest. I always thought I was too skinny, my fast metabolism made sure of that.
Beatle loosened his grip on my wrists, and I pulled them down to my sides, rubbing them awkwardly. I looked downwards, but Beatle still hadn't moved away.
"Hey," He used a single finger to tilt my head up so that I was looking at him, "you're beautiful."
I swear at that moment I felt my heart swell and shatter at the same moment. I couldn't believe he said that, that he thought I was beautiful. Looking at his defined cheek bones, shocking eyes, and perfectly tousled hair, I couldn't help but feel inferior. But he thought I was beautiful.
The other half was sheer terror. I didn't want to fall for Beatle. It would screw up everything, but he was making it increasingly hard not to. Maybe I was over analysing everything, seeing things that weren't there. Either way, I knew that this could mess everything up for me. In fact, it could make it worse.
Because what if I was looking too far into a simple compliment? It was a weird comment to say the least, but if I let myself believe that Beatle liked me it could be the death of me, literally. If it turned out he didn't, or that he was just playing me, it would be social suicide. Ten times worse than what it was before, guaranteed. And I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to take that chance.
So instead, I settled on four simple words before running away like the idiot I am,
"I have to go."
a/n Do you guys love me? You better, because I had to be up and packed to leave tomorrow by eight, and I haven't started.
Thank you guys for making my birthday fucking amazing by making Blaze #977 in romance. It may not be alot, but it means the world to me, so thanks.
Now, my amazing superheroes, use your voting, commenting, following, and inboxing powers!
Lol I don't know why I feel the need to say that, it's so awful and corny, but deal with it xD Love y'all!