Under My Skin

11 | self-fulfilling prophecy

Chapter Eleven:

"You know, you've never told me why you always come at exactly seven-thirty every day," Ria questioned. Her mouth was partially filled with the fresh, doughy chicken dumpling, the warm gooey texture melting upon her tongue.

Blaine sat at the opposite end of the sofa and had opted for the safer option of sweet and sour chicken chow mein. They were currently situated in the lounge room of Ria's home, a place rapidly becoming their favourite to hang out. Blaine softly blew at the steaming mouthful before welcoming it into his mouth. "It's the most convenient time between my babysitting shifts. You know, between you and my parents. Takes a lot of time; I have to find a way to divide my time equally."

"Ha-ha, you're hilarious." Ria mocked the older boy, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "Hey, I forgot to tell you earlier," She whipped out her iPhone from beside her. "Ms McQueen dropped us a message on our work group chat. She's said she will push the promotion date back to the end of the year. She says it gives us longer to prove ourselves." She squealed the words, barely able to contain her excitement; her eyes gleamed with glee, her hands waving around with contentment.

Blaine found himself mimicking her body language; her happiness infectious, almost as though it had been him who'd received the fantastic news. "That's great," he responded, "you deserve a fighting chance."

"Do you reckon somebody might have complained?" She paused, tilting her head quizzically. "I don't know why else she'd change her mind. I mean, she's hardly an understanding boss at the best of times."

Blaine placed his fork down hesitantly into the takeaway box. "I don't know, maybe? Or maybe, she just realised she'd made a colossal mistake not choosing the best intern. Obviously." He said almost matter-of-factly, both of his hands pointing at Ria.

"Obviously," She repeated, a soft giggle leaving her lips. "That has to be the reason." She popped a second dumpling into her mouth, savouring the taste before continuing. "Anyway, how was that interview? You never mentioned it again." She rose a brow as she spoke.

"What interview?"

"You know, the one you said you had to dash for that night. After...you know...after, we...fucked." Her honey orbs widened as she said the last word of profanity so matter-of-factly that she almost shocked herself.

He choked, a piece of chicken catching in his throat as the girl caught him by surprise. He grabbed the bottle of sparkling water on the table and chugged it down. "Right, yeah, that interview," he drawled, "it was good. It was great, excellent. Went really well."

She felt her lips twitch slightly at his obvious discomfort at being caught out in a lie. "So, when do you hear back from the employer?" She teased.

He carefully scratched the back of his neck, "In like a week, I think," he let out an awkward chuckle.

"There was no interview, was there?" She questioned knowingly, cocking her head to the side unhurriedly.

"I - I mean, no. No, there was no interview," Blaine muttered, accepting defeat.

"You said that so you could get out as fast as possible because you felt just as uncomfortable as I did. You didn't want to admit it, so you put on a brave face and tried to convince me the whole thing meant nothing. That's what you were doing, isn't it?"

Blaine blinked down at her twice. It'd been the second time he'd been scrutinised by a woman in the last forty-eight hours. It was steadily becoming something of a recurring theme. "I just didn't want you to overthink it. And clearly, that didn't work because that's exactly what you're doing now."