by Jack Parker
"First it was Damien. Then it was Val, then Kel and Damien. And then those stupid reporters and now it's you. Why the hell is everyone so intent on stressing me out?"
"When did it all suddenly become about you?" he said coldly.
She brushed back some of her hair. "I'm leaving."
She had really pissed him off. "Leave, then."
"I'll talk to you later once you've calmed down a bit, Jack."
Once he had calmed down a bit? She was the one who was making such a big deal out of something so small. He shuffled his feet. He didn't want to say anything. He just wanted it to be over. The temporary fire had subsided. He wasn't an argumentative person and he didn't want to be, either.
"Bye." He had intended to sound normal and offer it as some sort of truce, but his voice sounded cold –dismissive.
She stormed off without replying.
* * *
It was morning.
Lia had left the window half open during the night. The weather was getting hotter, which was quite unusual considering that it was only January. But it was better than it being cold all the time. She hated the cold. The bill was always a killer in the winter and Lacey would always get really stressed.
Lacey was usually happy, so it was weird to see her stressed.
Shadows danced over her curtains, rippling and breaking off over the edges.
"Lia, are you awake yet?"
Lia shuffled off of the bed. "Yeah," she replied.
She made her way into the main room. Lacey was on the sofa, seemingly contemplating something. She was just way too easy to read.
She slumped down beside her, causing the sofa to creak. "What's up?"
Lacey picked up a pillow and held it tightly with both arms. "Nothing." She sighed.
Lia leaned back. "You don't have to lie to me. Just admit that something's wrong, but you don't have to tell me what it is."
Lacey dug her chin into the pillow, then sighed again. "Something's wrong."
"Is this the point where you tell me what it is?"
Lacey stood up, her arms still wrapped around the pillow. She paced the room, once, twice, then stopped. "I like Jude."
Lia blinked. "I can tell."
"But I like Leigh, too."
Lia bit her lip. "Oh."
"And they both like me."
"Yeah…"
Lacey slumped back down onto the sofa. "What do I do?"
What was she meant to do? Lacey could always give her advice, but she couldn't do the same. Anyway, it was confusing.
"I don't understand. How can you like two guys at once?"
Lacey shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."
"You must like one more," stated Lia. It was logical.
"I've thought about that, but I don't. They're both really nice in their own way."
Lia ran a hand through her hair, then bit her bottom lip. "Have either of them told you that they like you?"
Lacey blinked. "No, but I can tell."
"Simple, then. Go for the first one who tells you." Lia grinned. That sounded like a perfect solution to her.
Lacey shook her head. "But that's just sad."
She shrugged. "One of them has to get hurt in the end. So whoever it is, make it his fault."
She was being really harsh, she knew that. But it was the only real way she could advise her.
Lacey stood up. "You're so insensitive."
What the hell?
It was a clever solution, wasn't it?
"Everyone has feelings. People aren't just empty vessels that you can do with what you please. I need to find a way which won't hurt them."
She couldn't think of any way that wouldn't hurt them. Lacey was way too idealistic. She thought that everything always had to be right, had to be fair. Life wasn't a fairy tale and she needed to accept that.
"Do what you wish."
Lacey looked up. "Someone's at the door."
She stood up, then made her way to the kitchen. Lia sighed. That meant that she had to answer it. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt. She still had her pyjamas on. Lia slid off of the sofa, then made her way towards the door. She opened it.
"You." Normally her voice would be laced with disdain at this point, but for some reason she said it with amusement.
Was she actually pleased to see him?
It was the morning, she reasoned, and she wasn't in the right state of mind.
"Me," he replied levelly.
"What do you want?" The same tone of voice. She was scaring herself.
Cal leaned against the doorframe and dug his hands into his pockets. A few stray bangs of chestnut hair fell into his eyes, shadowing his face. He looked towards her shirt, then raised an eyebrow.
She followed his gaze, then grinned. "The rabbit still lives."
"I can see that."
"I don't take your words to heart."
He brushed some hair out of his eyes. "You have a heart?"
"A very small one, but it's there."
He smirked. "That's good to hear."
She hated it when he smirked. He looked so…evil. No, that wasn't the word. It sounded way too childish. But she couldn't describe it. "Don't smirk."
He raised an eyebrow. "Should I sneer?"
"It's the same thing."
"Yet the word sneer sounds more menacing."
She pouted. "I don't like menacing things."
"Then you must really hate looking in the mirror every day." His tone of voice was light, joking. It no longer held the mocking tone that she had grown so accustomed to.
Part of her wanted to bite back with a scathing comment –it was way too weird for them to be getting along. But part of her liked the new way of talking. At least it gave her one less thing to stress about. But wouldn't get along with him, go against everything that she had sworn herself to? After the way he had embarrassed her, after the way he had acted towards her, how could she just get along with him?
How could she just let all of that go?
"You cracked it before I could look at it." The biting tone of voice was back. He noticed.
He creased his brow. "Why are you suddenly acting bitchy?"
That was blunt. She had to give him a reason. But what was her reason?
You always used to embarrass me and be so horrible to me.
It sounded so petty.
He's trying now. If you don't try, too, then you'll end up being the one in the wrong.
Maybe.
Could she forgive him for everything that he had done?
You shouldn't let the past control your future.
You have to let things go. Only when you let them go do you move forward.
When someone is horrible to you, nine times out of ten they won't actually say sorry, but they'll act normal to you afterwards. It's like an invisible truce. You can't expect too much. People have pride.
But so did she.
Could she sacrifice her pride and let him in?
Everyone deserves a second chance.
"Sorry. I get a bit moody in the morning."
The ink had set. Her signature was clear. She had signed the treaty and she was ready for the consequences.
He seemed to accept her answer. "You just got up?"
Lia bit her lip. "Heh…"
"It's what, midday?"
"I like sleep."
"Most people do."
She stuck out her tongue. "Not all of us can be early risers like you, your highness."
He grinned. It didn't hold that familiar trace of scorn. Weird. This was going to take some time getting used to. Anyway, he looked cute when he grinned nicely.
"Why do you keep blinking?"
His voice snapped her out of her reverie. "I'm batting my eyelashes. Don't you think it makes me look hot?" she said coyly.
He creased his forehead. "You're weird."
She grinned. "I know."
"It's … interesting."
She raised her eyebrows. "Interesting?"
"Yeah
. Interesting."
"What do you mean by interesting?"
He shrugged. "It's … different."
She pouted. "Give me a straight answer."
"You're very unique," he commented dryly.
She mock frowned. "Don't be sarcastic. It hurts."
He regarded her quizzically. He was such a guy.
"I'm joking," she stated.
"I know," he replied.
"Then what's with the silence?"
He shrugged. "It's now a crime not to talk?"
She didn't know how to reply to that. "With you it's just plain weird."
This was awkward.
"A week ago you would have preferred me not talking."
It looked like she wasn't the only one who was finding this weird.
"We made a deal to get along," she supplied weakly.
There was something more than that and they both knew it.
He pulled a hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, making it messier than it already was. "Maybe –" He cut himself off, then looked at the ceiling. He continued. "We could have gotten along from the start and part of us wanted too, but we kept making excuses. And now that we've made a truce, it's easy for us to fit into it. But it's awkward."
"So –" she searched for the right words. "We don't actually hate each other?" She blinked. It was a brilliant realization.
He clicked his tongue. "Hate is such a strong word. I prefer immensely dislike."
She laughed. "Does that even make sense?"
He leaned back against the doorframe and dug his hands into his pockets. The corridor was quite dark, so his face was shadowed. She couldn't see his expression. He was watching her.
She blinked. "Do I have something in my eye?"
"It's usually the other way around."
"Oh, okay. Do you have something in your eye?"
He creased his brows. "Why are you asking me this?" he asked impatiently.
"You were staring."
"How does that have anything to do with me having something in my eye?"
She shrugged, then grinned. "Oh, right. I get it. That's for when someone blinks too much."
He nodded slowly.
She tugged on the bottom of her shirt. "Do I have something on my shirt? Or on my face?"
"No," he replied placidly.
She furrowed her brows. "Then why were you staring?"
"I was looking at you, not staring."
Lia shuffled her feet and bit her bottom lip. "Why were you looking?"
"It's customary to look at a person when you're talking to them," he commented dryly.
"But you went quiet. You weren't talking," she stated.
Cal groaned, then cast his gaze over her form. He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you reading into this so much?"
She smiled widely. "Can I stare at you, too?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Can – I– stare – at – you – too?"
He gazed at her intently for a moment, seemingly lost for words, then replied, "Let me guess, mornings make you hyper?"
She giggled. "I'm not hyper."
The corners of his lips tugged into a grin. "I like it when you're hyper," he replied. "It's cute."
She nodded, grinning broadly. "I like it when I'm hyper, too. It's –" The meaning of his words suddenly settled in. She blushed, then shuffled her feet. "Oh, um, thank you."
He cocked his head to the side, then opened his mouth, about to say something. He closed it again. A wave of silence fell over them. It had become awkward again. She shuffled her feet, then brushed some hair out of her face.
"Why did you come here?"
He scuffed the floor with the sole of his shoe, circling it over the carpet. "Michael wants to see both of us tonight. He told me to tell you."
"Oh." She hated the awkwardness. "When did you become his messenger boy?" she added lightly.
He raised his eyebrows, causing the corners of his eyes to crease. They creased when he laughed, too, she remembered. "I'll meet you at the park and we can walk it from there." She blinked in surprise. "I don't think either of us wants to meet Michael alone," he added hurriedly.
She smiled. "Yeah." She bit her bottom lip.
He pulled himself up and took his hands out of his pockets. "I'll see you later, then."
"What time?"
He dug his hands back into his pockets. "Sunset."
She shuffled her feet. "Okay. Bye."
He grinned. "See ya."
He left, down the corridor. She watched his retreating form. That had to have been one of the weirdest conversations they had ever had. Her stomach felt jumpy, but she had no idea why. It must have been because she hadn't had breakfast yet. She turned, then jumped back in shock.
She put a hand to her heart. "Lace, you scared me."
Lacey smiled lightly. "I'm going shopping. Do you need any new clothes?"
Lia bit her bottom lip, then cast her gaze towards the window. Thick beams of sunlight penetrated the curtain and danced over the carpet. "It's getting hotter."
Lacey stepped back. "Yeah. You'll need some summer clothes."
Lia shrugged. "I guess so." She made her way to the sofa and slumped down onto it. "How about a skirt?"
Lacey nodded. "I think baby pink would go well with your hair. Pink usually looks nice with dark hair."
"As long as it's nice. I trust you."
Lacey grinned broadly. "Actually… are you doing anything today?"
Lia blinked. "Not right now, no."
Lacey grabbed her arm and before Lia could protest, she dragged her into the corridor. "You can come shopping with me, then."
Lia wrenched her arm from Lacey's grasp, then pointed to her shirt. "I'm in my pyjamas."
Lacey's mouth formed an 'o'. She laughed sheepishly. "Oh, right. Get dressed, then. I'll wait out here for you."
She didn't actually want to go shopping but she had no excuse not to. Anyway, Lacey would get offended if she said no; they hadn't spent a lot of time together recently. She shuffled back into the flat and got dressed, then met Lacey outside.
Lacey grinned broadly. She was usually evil when it came to shopping. "This is going to be so much fun."
"I'm sure," Lia commented sarcastically.
Lacey hit her on the arm, then, before she could protest, dragged her out of the building.
* * *
He was hanging from a chord.
Correction: he was tied to a chair which was hanging from a chord.
Jack shuffled in his seat; the ropes wouldn't budge. They were cutting into his skin, cutting off his circulation. He couldn't get his arms free. Below him was a pit, a dark bottomless pit. The chord was snapping. The demon smirked, then pulled out something sharp. It pressed something on the object's hilt, causing a whirring sound to fill Jack's ears.
He felt as though an unseen hand was clenching at his stomach.
The demon cocked its head to the side. "Do you want me to cut the ropes?"
Jack watched the sharp object. It was whirring and spinning and going so fast that all he could see was a silver blur.
"Is it safe?"
The demon smirked again. "You won't find out unless you try."
"Will it cut my arms?" His voice was filled with panic.
The demon let out a dry laugh. "You don't have any time."
He had to risk it.
"Don't delay," added the demon sardonically.
But if the object cut into his wrists, it could kill him. He had no other choice, though, he reasoned. The chord was snapping. He had to.
"Go on!"
The demon sneered.
"Too late."
Then the chord snapped.
Jack shot up, his breath escaping in sharp, ragged gasps.