Chapter 19: 19 - I think I could like him


    I turned away from the incessant tapping, pulling the covers over my head as an act of defiance. My


    mind refused to even consider who it could be. The blissful nothingness of sleep was too pleasant for


    me to so much as consider waking up.


    “Wake up.” The tapping continued.


    I rolled away, curled into foetal position and tried to burrow deeper into restful nothingness. It was just


    one of those days when sleep was sweeter, more restful. I hadn’t had one of those in a while so I was


    determined to enjoy this one for as long as possible. Whoever was trying to wake me up clearly hadn’t


    gotten the memo. I half buried my face in my pillow, humming blissfully as I waited to fall deeper into


    sleep only to find that my sleep rhythm had been disrupted. I could feel myself slowly waking up much


    to my annoyance. No. Please, no.


    A tug on the coverspleted the wake up process.


    “What!” I hissed, throwing the covers down. “What? What? What!”


    My eyes found the culprit and for a second my brain nked out. Huh? I couldn’t for the life of me


    remember why Masked Idiot was in my room or why he seemed to think it was okay to interrupt my


    sleep. No, seriously. Why did he think interrupting my sleep would be okay? Did I seem that amicable


    to him? That harmless and forgiving?


    In a way, the fact that it didn’t make sense made sense. For starters, Masked Idiot being in my room


    while I was asleep was just a little crazy, not to mention creepy. And to top it off, he was waking me up.


    That was even crazier. It had been years since anyone had to wake me up. I wasn’t the type to bete


    which is what happens when one sleeps in so I never sleep in. I was always up and ready on time in


    the mornings and sleeping during the day wasn’t something I indulged in either so there was never a


    need to wake me up. Even groggy and disoriented, I knew that being woken up, especially by Masked


    Idiot, meant something was seriously off. But what?


    “You’ve been sleeping for hours. You need to eat,” he announced.


    My gazended on the royal blue tee shirt he had on. The shade was so vibrant I almost couldn’t bring


    myself to look directly at him. I squinted, brows furrowing as memories of the ice cream parlor and drive


    back home flooded my mind. Okay. I see but--


    “You’re still here?” I mused out loud unknowingly. “Why are you still here?” I adjusted.


    “You’re sick. I couldn’t exactly leave you by yourself.” He shrugged self-consciously.


    “I had a fever. I was hardly dying,” I replied tly.


    “Well, you look better now,” he dered, reaching over to palm my forehead.


    Thanks to the sleep induced disorientation, it didn’t even ur to me to move away. I just sat there,


    eyes wide open like a child as he reached over and felt my temperature. His scent enveloped me, filling


    my nostrils. It smelled warm and expensive.


    I swallowed.


    “You feel fine,” he disclosed.


    “I am fine,” I seconded, pushing his hand away.


    I was also very hungry but I kept that little nugget to myself. Thest thing I was going to do,


    disoriented or not, was admit to hunger after our little spat about me only eating an apple and ice-


    cream all day. I was finally getting back in tune with reality post-sleep induced disorientation.


    “Hang on.”


    He disappeared through the door before I could formte a reply. I was left frowning and speechless


    on my bed, wondering just why he feltfortable enough to tell me -the person who actually lived in


    the house- to ‘hang on’ while he -a creepy criminal with one too many skeletons in his closet- went


    gallivanting around my house. Fortunately for him, he came back before I got far enough to really feel


    insulted and he came with pizza. Delicious sweet smelling pizza. Needless to say, all was instantly


    forgotten.


    “Pizza?” I intoned, eagerly reaching for the box.


    “I don’t know how to make soup and you didn’t have any canned ones I could heat up,” he supplied


    apologetically. “The pizza ce’s number was on the breakfast counter so I figured it would be okay.”


    “Hmmm,” I mumbled around a mouthful of pizza.


    Between pizza and soup, I definitely would have chosen pizza so noints there. In fact, I was


    quietly grateful my mom believed in fresh homemade soups as opposed to the canned almost ready-to-


    eat ones. Not a single part of me mourned theck of soup. I was too busy stuffing my face with food I


    actually enjoyed.


    My phone vibrated on the bedside table, demanding my attention. Masked Idiot gestured for me to


    carry on with introducing the pizza to my mouth. He reached over to take the phone, then passed it to


    me. I wiped my fingers on the one piece of tissue he brought before collecting the phone. Our fingers


    lightly grazed as he handed it over. I snatched my hand back and barely remembered to nod my


    gratitude before unlocking the phone. I read the new text and groaned.


    “What?” he inquired.


    “Olly staying at a friend’s tonight.” I sighed.


    She had been taking too many unnecessary riskstely. It was like she was stocking up on all the


    things she wouldn’t have gotten away with if our mom had been home and while I understood that, itThis is property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    also meant I was constantly covering for her and cleaning her messes which I decidedly wasn’t a fan


    of.


    “So who’s going to take care of you?” Masked Idiot frowned.


    “I repeat, I had a fever. I’m neither dying nor magically an invalid.” I rolled my eyes, suppressing the


    irrational urge to smile.


    “Sick people shouldn’t be left on their own,” he refuted.


    “I have... no, I had a fever, friendo.” I had no idea why but I couldn’t contain the urge anymore, a smile


    graced my lips. “Let’s be honest, a fever isn’t really an illness. No one goes to the doctor because of a


    fever.”


    For a criminal, he really was a softie. I just couldn’t fully get a read on him. Ny percent of the time,


    he acted like a normal person. A kind hearted one. The other ten percent was what I had a problem


    with. The breaking and entering, the showing up with bruised knuckles, the threatening tone and


    creepy stalking.


    I sighed.


    Sometimes I got the feeling I could have liked him. That we could almost have been friends if only we


    met under different circumstances.


    “Then why did you ask her toe stay with you?” he argued, folding his arms across his torso.


    I frowned, confusion evident in the wrinkle of my brows.


    “Ask who to do what?”


    “Your sister.” He rolled his eyes. “If you’re so sure you’re okay, why did you ask her toe home?”


    Was I missing something?


    “I didn’t ask her toe home. I was sleeping. When would I have done that?” I replied, furrows


    appearing on my forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m not following. What’s the connection?”


    Clearly unconvinced for some reason, he raised an eyebrow, shing me a look that could only be


    interpreted as ‘lie better next time.’ I wasn’t sure whether tough or be insulted. The idiot who couldn’t


    keep a secret or tell one proper lie was implying that I, who’d never been caught in a lie before, was a


    bad liar. Ironic didn’t even begin to cover it. But that aside, what was he referring to? I wasn’t seeing the


    logic.


    “I’m not following your thought process. What is this about?” I inquired, sitting up straighter and trying to


    look as put together as I normally was.


    It was a tall task so I didn’t feel too bad about failing. Sitting in bed inhaling half a box of pizza, clothed


    infy sweats with sleep wrinkles on my face and my hair barely hanging on in a messy bun was just


    too far from normal tucked in shirts, wrinkle-free clothes and not-a-hair-out-of-ce me. I didn’t even


    want to picture how I looked from his perspective.


    “Why did your sister text you that she wasn’ting home then?” he asked vindictively.


    “Because,” I rolled my eyes, “she needs me to cover for her. My parents would never agree to a


    sleepover. It’s not allowed. We’re not that kind of family.”


    “You mean a normal family?” he countered thoughtlessly.


    I bristled.


    “You could say that.”


    As though he only just realized how scathing his tone was, he donned an apologetic smile.


    “Sorry. I didn’t... mean it like that. I didn’t think--”


    “You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”


    I definitely didn’t like hearing his thoughtless remark but it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t done


    anything wrong. To be fair, he was right. My family wasn’t normal and even though he meant it in a


    negative sense, as a member of that family, I knew better than anyone that while we were not normal, it


    was both in positive and negative ways. There was nothing wrong with that even though some days,


    more than anything, I wanted us to be normal.


    “Why can’t she go?” he whispered tentatively. “What’s wrong with a sleepover?”


    “The ‘over’ part.” I shrugged. “I’m guessing that’s where the problem is.”


    He nodded slowly.


    “Anyway,” I drawled, changing gears quickly before he could follow up with a question that would


    eventually lead to a ‘you poor thing’ smile. It just wasn’t a smile I ever found nice. It was a smile I


    despised and I could just tell it would look ugly on him. “She needs me to cover for her tomorrow. Like I


    said, my dad will be home sometime after dark which means I can just pretend she’s asleep. My mom


    isn’t in town. It’s the only reason she can do this. My dad can be fooled but definitely not my mom.”


    “Hmmm.”


    “Tomorrow, I just have to greet my dad early. Whenever my mom’s away, I’m usually the first one up


    anyways so it won’t seem odd. Then I’ll go again a littleter when he’s taking his bath and pretend to


    be Olly. I’ll greet him and say I need to rush off to school for something or the other. The bathroom door


    should muffle my voice so he won’t notice the difference.”


    He took a step back, a bemused smile spreading across his lips.


    “You have it all nned out. Have you done this before?”


    “Well, obviously.” I shrugged.


    “Impressive.” He folded his arms across his chest, biceps straining against the material of his shirt as


    his gaze, sparkling with something I couldn’t ce my finger on, met mine. “Though I know you didn’t


    That was all it took to end the non-existent moment. My smile copsed, giving way to a look that could


    only be described as, ‘You just had to ruin it.’


    “I’ll have you know,” I lectured in a tone liberally spiced with irritation, “that I came up with the idea.”


    “Yeah right.” He scoffed.


    “I did.” I scowled, resisting the urge to hurl my pillow at his face. “When Olly was younger, she was


    always having to cry off of sleepovers and apparently, it was putting a strain on her friendships.”


    He rolled his eyes, disbelieving.


    “While I don’t think a friendship that is dependent on something as stupid as whether or not you attend


    a sleepover is worth retaining, she was just a kid. I felt bad for her so I came up with the n. Our mom


    travels a lot and she’s the only hands-on parent in the family so it wasn’t hard. Fooling our dad was


    easy. He hardly pays attention so I worked it out for her,” I informed him. “Though, if I’d known she’d


    still be using it till now, I might’ve thought twice about it.”


    “That is... slightly more believable.” He nodded.  “You may be a rule follower but... I guess being an


    older siblinges before that.”


    I rolled my eyes.


    “I’ll have you know, it’s smarter to know the rules so when you break them, you can do it without getting


    caught. Which is what I do. And being a rule follower means people never suspect me. It’s an added


    bonus. My way is smarter.”


    He rolled his eyes to heaven and back so I added, “Of course, that’s probably too much to ask of you.


    You know, given your IQ.”


    He scowled.


    “My IQ is just fine.”


    “Debatable.”


    “You’re really annoying, you know that right?” he asked, holding my gaze steady as though if he tried


    hard enough, he would be able to visually convey just how annoying. I stifled a smile.


    “Simpletons always think that about geniuses.” I shrugged innocently, biting my lip to keep from smiling.


    “At least you know you’re following your stereotype to the letter.”


    “You need help.” He red.


    “And you need a little more than a bit ofmon sense,” I countered jauntily.


    “I don’t like you.” He raked a hand through his hair, messing it up. “You frustrate me.”


    “Simple minded people can rarely stand geniuses too,” I goaded, smiling secretly when he snatched


    the box of pizza out my hands in annoyance. There was only half a slice left anyway.


    “I dislike this version of you even more than normal you.” His brows furrowed, nose crinkling in distaste.


    “It’s probably the meds making you act all proud and annoying in a kind of cue... c-c-cu...” He heaved a


    sigh and gave up. “You know what, forget it.”


    “Cute?” I frowned, brows furrowing in confusion.


    “I said, forget it.”


    He rose to his feet and moved away, sitting backwards on my study chair.


    “Just get well fast. This version of you is weird. I don’t like it. Also, shut up until you’re back to normal.”


    I didn’t need a mind reader to know that he was feeling very awkward and self-conscious. For some


    reason, it made me want to smile.


    So, I scowled.


    I was definitely loopy on meds.