River

River, you truly are a dickhead.

Yes, yes you are. A big one.

I climb down the stairs in shock of what I've just said to Lea. How stupid can I get? I should be the ultimate person who knows girl-kind the best, and you do not (I repeat, do not) talk to them degradingly. 

Why was I the biggest asshole just now? Fuck knows. 

Maybe I wanted to get a reaction out of her? I honestly don't know. 

River, man. Why the fuck did you say that to her?

Once I reach the hallway, I'm too sidetracked by my thoughts to pay attention to where my feet are taking me until I find myself in the kitchen. In the middle of the black and white checkered flooring stands a rectangularly shaped island, sink grooved into its countertop. Without properly thinking about what my hands are doing, I open the tap and watch the cold water pour and splash onto the marble below it. 

You're an idiot, River. 

Pumping soap out of the dispenser to the right of the tap, I rub it into my hands and hold them under the water. Just to make matters even worse, the terrible headache I woke up with this morning continues to thump. I have a lot of things to worry about, now I have to add Lea to the list. 

Speaking of the devil, I hear the faintest of footsteps round the corner of the hallway and enter the kitchen. Quickly, my eyes flicker to her face as she enters through the arched kitchen door, staring around the room in curiosity. Her wandering head finally becomes in line with mine. 

"Oh..." She says, a little confusion ringing in her voice. "I got...a bit lost...I swear this was the way to the dining room?" She questions.

I can't help but laugh at her uncertainty. As I watch her now, she seems like a lost infant, and I'm glad it makes me smile, because after what I've just said to her in the guestroom, I feel like an ass.

By habit, she crosses her arms over her chest, which I've gathered is a defense mechanism. However, maybe she doesn't realise how it enhances her...chest area. Coughing, I make sure to keep my eyes on hers, instead of wandering to other places.

"I don't know why your laughing, River." She says bluntly.

Yes, she's definitely pissed. 

You're an idiot, River. Let's see how many times I can say it. 

"I'm laughing because I find you funny," I reply.

        "I'm glad I amuse you," she speaks in a monotone.

       "What do you want from the dining room anyway?" I question, trying to bring her out of the bad mood. 

       "Nothing, I just felt like exploring," she explains, tightening her folded arms over her chest. 

        Lea don't do that please. 

         Luckily for my decency, she has changed out of her revealing pajamas, though the tight V-neck top she's now wearing still leaves little to the imagination. 

         "I can give you a tour of the house if you want." I offer her genuinely.

         "Uhm, I'll pass." She chuckles, showing absolutely no humor in her voice whatsoever.

         She's still pissed, and awkwardly standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

         "Are you going to keep exploring, or shall I say, getting lost?" Her eyes narrow sharply at that comment. "Or are you going to help me cook?" I push my hands off of the countertop in the middle of the kitchen, to regain my six-foot height.

         Swinging from the balls of her feet to her toes and back again, she takes a few moments to probably contemplate whether she wants to spend her Saturday afternoon with a jackass like me.

         "What are you cooking?" She asks hesitantly.

         "Anything you like, clumsy," I reply.

         For a moment, she pauses, before slowly speaking again. "What's the catch?"

         "You get to spend an afternoon with the hottest guy alive."

         "Ha!" She scoffs, "I don't see any guy of the sort around here."

         I laugh at her remark, "c'mon, it'll be fun, just you and I, bonding. Aw how sweet!" I squeal in an overly exaggerated girly voice, clapping my hands together. 

         "I'll only watch you cook so that I can see you get burned, or see you cry when you cut the onions."

         I smile, satisfied that I managed to convince her. "So, what do you wanna cook?"  

         "Anything you like, dickhead." She smirks, taking slow and precautious steps towards the piece of countertop between us.

         I can't help but grin at her statement. Maybe she isn't so pissed off now, which I'm grateful for. 

         "Let's cook pasta, that's my specialty." I say. "Unless you believe in that whole 'carbs are bad for you' shit."

         She rolls her eyes, amused at my words. "Just tell me what to do, Parker."

         Leaning on the black, marble countertop between us, using her elbows to hold her weight, there's a much clearer view of her chest as she leans forward. Whether she's doing it on purpose or not, she sure knows how to tease someone. Curling my right hand into a fist, I cough into it.

"Well, you can chop the onions." I smirk at her knowingly.

"Oh, just so you can watch me cry?" Her eyes narrow with humor.

"I think it'll be cute." I blurt before I can stop myself – what makes it even more unbearable on my part is that I say it so seriously.

Her head quickly turns away from mine, yet I manage to see the redness seep into the pours of her cheeks and flood her face with colour in only a matter of seconds. Nervously, I itch the back of my head before spinning on my heel and opening the draw directly behind me. From one of the small compartments, I pick up a sharp knife that glints with the sunlight entering through the rows of large windows that are dotted around the kitchen walls. Closing the draw with my hip, I reach up to a cabinet to my left, and draw out the cutting board. After closing the cupboard door, I turn to face Lea once again, who is watching me intently.

Swallowing the little moisture in my mouth, I place the chopping board onto the black countertop in front of her and hand her the knife.

"Please don't chop your hand off," I joke, making her laugh. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing quite a large scar right behind it. 

"Don't worry about me River, but I can't promise I won't cut yours off," she says, the corners of her lips tugged upwards.

"Oh, no, I'm quivering in fear," I respond in the most unbothered tone I can muster. 

I hear her laugh as I enter into the pantry, grabbing a pile of vegetables and a packet of brown pasta in my hand before exiting and shutting the door behind me with a gentle kick of my leg. 

"Can I ask you something?" She starts.

"Sure," I nod, placing the food on the countertop in front of her.

She reaches for an onion, placing it on the chopping board. "The night that my house fell down, what were you and Jake and Ky doing there?" 

My mind takes me back to Thursday night. "We were on our way back from a party a few blocks from your house. We heard the commotion and thought to check it out." 

"A party? On a Thursday?" She questions, holding the onion in place and slicing straight through the center. 

"Hosted by some college kids, they party every day of the week," I tell her, pressing my weight against the countertop as she continues to slice through the onion. "I'm sorry, by the way, about your house." 

You should apologise for being an idiot too. 

"It's okay," she shrugs. The onion seems to be getting to her; tears start to glaze the surface of her eyes. She starts blinking rapidly in hopes of stopping them. Maybe I should've cut the onion instead.

"Can I ask a question?" 

"Go ahead,"

The topic of Nick's party was circling in my mind since yesterday. I couldn't drop it and I don't know why. I was even annoying myself, but I had to ask. "What would you have done if I wasn't there yesterday, at the party?" I inquire hesitantly.

She places the knife down on the chopping board, shifting her eyes from it to meet mine. "Nothing, I was leaving the party when you came," she tells me.

"Are you sure?" I press.

River, you're an idiot. Third time now. The girl can do what she wants to do, leave her in peace.

"Why would I lie?" 

"I don't know, same reason you lied about going,"

She throws her head back, groaning in irritation, "you're not my father, River. I didn't need to tell you." 

She's right, she didn't. But I feel obligated to warn her of a person I know is no good. "You don't understand how he messes with girls, Lea."

"And how do I know that you don't?"

I want to instantly reply with 'I don't', but I myself have had my slip ups. There were times when I've been unfaithful. But I'm not like Nick. I'll never be like Nick. I can't bring myself to tell her that though. 

"I...I don't sleep around," I hope that she doesn't see past my lie. 

"It's none of my business if you do or not," she eyes me warily like I'm the worst liar in the world. "But I can take care of myself, I'd appreciate it if you didn't boss me around like yesterday." 

I rub my forehead while shutting my eyes tight. This is not how I planned to spend my afternoon.

"I'm sorry, you're right," I sigh, defeatedly. 

She mumbles something along the lines of "it's fine," before returning to chopping the onion. 

"And do you hate me?" I don't know where the question came from, but since it is now out in the open, I'm willing to hear the answer.

Seemingly surprised at my sudden question, she cocks her head to the side, taking a second to think. 

"No." It's very blunt and short, but I'm grateful for it.

A smile edges onto my face and makes my lips part to bare my teeth.

"Good." I say, pleased.

"But I don't like you either." Lea finishes, making me chuckle. The good old Lea is back again, the funny one.

"Ouch, that hurts." I place my hand against my chest, which makes her lips crease into a delicate smile as well.

"Ah..." She winces, before dropping the knife onto the chopping board and stepping back from the countertop. She holds her left hand in her right, and stares at her index finger with pain evident in her eyes. I squint my eyes to focus on her finger, and soon realize that she's cut herself...what a surprise. A droplet of blood slides down from her index finger and lands onto her other hand.

"Great..." She hisses sarcastically.

"I warned you not to cut yourself," I sigh, rounding the island and striding towards her. "Let me see," I say, edging closer to her.

She carefully holds her hand out for me to examine the cut. "God Lea, how deep did you cut it?" I lace my fingers gently around her wrist, ignoring the odd sensation I get with the feel of her skin against mine and lead her towards the sink.

"I don't know, you were distracting me from cutting my onion."

"Am I that good-looking, that you get distracted enough to cut yourself?" I wriggle my eyebrows at her.

"You're way too egotistical," she rolls her eyes.

I chuckle, still clasping her wrist. Reaching the sink, I open the hot water tap and bring Lea's hand under the flow of water, watching the blood run away from her wound and disappear through the drainage hole. Once I think the wound is clean, I close the tap and pat the countertop beside the sink. 

"Sit her," I tell her.

Placing her hands on the marble behind her, she attempts to jump up but fails to perch herself. I laugh at her, receiving a deathly glare in return that makes me laugh even more.

"It's too high, I can't get on," she complains.

Stepping in front of her, I place my hands either side of her waist, picking her body up from the floor and placing her on the countertop. Surprised, she stare fixates on me, however, I avoid her eyes. Opening a cupboard to my right, I outstretch my hand to bring down the first-aid kit, resting it beside her, still fighting to avoid her gaze. If she see's the heat of my cheeks, I can surely kick myself out of embarrassment.

"Give me your hand," I order after taking a plaster from the first-aid kit.

"Which one?" She jokes, causing me to smile.

Still refusing to look at her directly in the eye, I reach for her injured hand as she straightens her wounded index finger, making it easier for me to wrap the plaster around it. Only once her injury is safely bandaged do I look up at her, and I am happy to see that she is blushing just brightly as I may be.

***