The Innocent Lover

Chapter 11

Iris

I woke up, to the noise that came from downstairs. The time on my clock was exactly noon.

A loud laugh from Grandma and Abigail, with a bass boost from Grandpa told me they were enjoying their lives all too well. I felt like I needed to nap some more, but their laughing made me curious. Rubbing my eyes furiously, I left my room and headed downstairs.

I opened the front door and stepped that's when a familiar laugh reached my ears. I turned my head hurriedly, which made me feel dizzy - probably because I had just woken up, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor with a sharp pain coursing throughout my body.

The laughing died and two big masculine hands scooped me off the verandah. The woody cologne hit my nostrils and started working its magic.

Lucas was at my house.

My throat seemed to open a little valve that let all the fluids in it escape, leaving it desert-dry. I could feel the space where his hands were touching and it zinged.

Lucas raised my head till his green eyes stared into mine and the desert dry throat worsened. I needed water. I swallowed hard but to no avail.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Morning".

"Are you sure? Because I think it's noon now". Concern was etched on his face, in his voice, and his touch. He knelt and checked my knees by touching them. I had my short PJs but I didn't flinch at the contact. My body was already getting used to him, and his persistent hugs every day when we left the gym. He moved onto my elbows and I stood there in silence, watching him check for injuries wherever he thought I was hurt. I felt.... Loved. He was like a brother from another mother, one I could rely on even when I didn't ask for help.

When Lucas was satisfied with his search, he took me by the hand and made me sit on the chair he was sitting in as he sat on the floor.

"No, you don't have to," I said raising. I wasn't about to hog his space just after ruining their fun time.

"But you've been hurt".

"I'm fine"

"Not to me you're not. Now he a good girl and sit down," he said. The words sounded smooth coming from him, but there was this hint of firmness in them that made me want to obey. I liked complying with people, it made life less complicated. But he was like a semantic error. I never just agreed to everything he said from the first time we met, and it made me wonder why. He was a bad influence, and I knew it, my gut had told me the very first time we met.

His choice of clothing that afternoon gave him a 'bad boy' feel that complied with his demeanor. Tight black jeans, a black t-shirt that clasped his upper body throughout, a leather jacket, and black boots. I noticed the sunglasses hanging from his shirt and knew he was going for the 'bad boy' look, and he ate. If he went to a high school dressed like that, I knew the little girls would chase after him like flies do when they see horse poop.

"So this is how you look when you've just come from bed," he asked.

I suddenly felt conscious about myself. Did I look ugly after waking up? In contrast to him, I was sure I looked ugly.

" Umm, yeah, " I said.

" Well, you'll need to get prepping if we're going out today, " he said.

" Huh". I was sure he said going out but I still had to ask either way. What was he on about?

" He wants to take you to the museum you love so much in the CBD," Grandma answered my monologue.

"Now?"