The Girl in The Green Scarf

T w e n t y - e i g h t

C H A P T E R

28

"The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only."

― Victor Hugo

- S e b a s t i a n -

A loud, sharp meow, sounding inches away from my ear, makes me start violently. My eyes fly open and I jerk away from the sound, hitting the carpeted floor with a muted thud. A grunt dashes past my lips.

Alex's infamous snicker rises. "I've never seen anyone sleep with their head hanging off the back of a wooden chair before. Was the living room's couch not comfortable enough for you?"

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and blink sleepily up at him. Next to his chest, Alex's hand holds something small - the source of the inhuman sound - while his other hand runs gently over its black fur. My eyes narrow in a glare as I push myself up to a proper sitting position.

I utter a curse. "Is that a cat?"

"Kitten."

"Tell me you did not bring a cat into my room," I say with a scowl, ignoring his interjection.

"I can't tell you that." He continues to stroke the fur at the back of its head. The cat goggles at me, eyes so blue they hurt to look at.

Alex glances up at me. His lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Alex, you are well aware of the fact that I am-" a sneeze. And then another. "-Allergic to cats!"

"You are?" He asks, pulling a fake sympathetic face. "Too bad, cats are wonderful creatures."

"Take that thing out of here!"

His mouth opens in a comical O. He place two fingers over the cat's ears, tugging it closer to his chest. "Blue is not a thing. He has feelings. I found him."

"Lose him then."

"You're never around these days. I need some company," he says, cooing at the cat.

"Befriend Guy. Or Theo. Or write a new cheesy story," I reply witheringly. "Anything I'm not allergic to."

I get to my feet, no longer drowsy with sleep. Another sneeze escapes me, making my whole body shudder. My toe pumps into something hard and I wince. My gaze travels to the object at my feet and Alex's follows. The book I've been reading before I nodded off rests open face-down. The title almost glows against the dark coated cover. Before & After Islam.

I am acutely aware of the mischievous look on Alex's face. We both dive in for the book at the same instant. Alex's fingers curl around it just as mine graze the cover, missing it by a millimeter. I attempt to yank it out of his hold, but fail miserably.

Again I sneeze, rubbing my nose frantically, trying to ease the itching torture.

Alex waves the book in one hand. "Since when do you read?"

His timbre is quizzical, dubious.

I flop down on my bed, one leg hanging over the side, the other tugged beneath me. Apparently the hope of keeping my activities a secret is gone with the wind, so I resolve to nonchalance.

I scratch a brown scab beneath the knotted bands around my wrist - a couple of days ago, Alex and I took turns dragging each other on a moving cart behind the car. Now we both have the marks to show it.