He pouts and it takes everything in me not to scream.
“Well, make sure you hurry up so we can talk about it.”
A ding on his phone draws his attention away from me. He checks it, his expression unreadable, before retreating from the table. I miss the earthy scent already.
“So I’ve got a shift to start,” he says. Pauses. “See you around, hopefully.”
Hopefully.My heart leaps into my throat as I watch him leave, heading downstairs for his shift. It’s only when he’s out of my sight that I giggle into my hand, like a lovestruck teenager.
After dinner, I start readingWhisper of the Dark, while Ria practises some piano pieces for school.
Or at least, Itryto. My eyes skirt over the same paragraph on the second - or is it the third? - multiple times before I set the book down and sigh.
“What’s wrong, Ate?” Ria questions from behind me. She’s leaning forward, eyeing the novel.
I narrow my eyes toward her, before stating, “Nothing is wrong, this is a perfectly fine book. I’m just not in the mood.”
Ria shrugs, quirking a brow.
“I didn’t say anything about the book.”
At that, I toss a small pillow toward her, which she swiftly catches mid air.
A buzz from my phone snatches my attention.
A laugh escapes my lips and Mum glances over at me.
“Is that Marlon?” she questions, her words playful. I hear the piano seat scrape against the ground, and soon I feel Ria’s heavy breaths as she peers over my shoulder.
“Omg, lovebirds!” she coos, and I swat at her. Mum and Ria burst into teasing chuckles.
Warmth settles over my skin. I’ve watched many things with him in the past, most of the time with our Mums nearby. One time we watchedShrekon DVD, when we were about 10 years old, but Marlon hogged much of the popcorn and kept rewinding to watch his favourite scenes.
The other night, though, watching Sailor Moon with him wasn’t so bad. I actually enjoyed it. Strangely enough, I’m finding him to be not as irritating as he once was. It’s good to know that his brain actually matured.
“I’m going upstairs,” I tell my family.
“To talk to Marlon?” Ria teases and I narrow my eyes at her.
“Yes, in fact,” I declare.
Marlon and I take a few minutes fiddling with our laptops trying to find a good watch party website, before settling on one calledTheatreAtHome, and decide to call over Facetime. It’s a little grainy and dark on his end when I answer the call, that I can’t seem to make out his face.
“Hello?” I ask.
That’s when a figure jumps at the screen rapidly, causing me to scream and drop my phone onto my lap. Chuckles burst from my speaker, and I groan.
“You should’ve seen your face,” Marlon manages through his laughter. I can see his face fully now, illuminated by his phone and laptop screen. His hair is messier than it’s ever been, falling ungracefully over his eyes.
“Shut up,” I hiss. I readjust myself on the bed, balancing my laptop on my knees.
“So how was your lover boy today?” Marlon coos, and I hope he doesn’t see how my face heats instantly.
“It was fine,” I say.
“Did he ask your socials yet? Or number?” he prods, and I shake my head.
“Not yet, but it’s whatever. We’re taking it slow.”
