"Well, if you don't like it you can always go and find somewhere else to live."
Your cutting tone didn't go unnoticed. Van's eyes narrowed a little, the smirk falling quickly away but not for long. He folded his arms across his chest, fixing you wit...
Ops! Esta imagem não segue nossas diretrizes de conteúdo. Para continuar a publicação, tente removê-la ou carregar outra.
You stand on Van's front doorstep, finger poised hovering over the doorbell, trying to psyche yourself up. You've just provoked him into an angry state and now you've actually got to swallow your pride and be nice to him. Well... you don't actually have to be nice you suppose, as long as you're 'civil'. That's what he said wasn't it? You're not giving him any more than that...
There's a scuffling sound behind the door and then it starts to swing open, slowly at first but then it's opening wide, Van's tall, slim frame filling the space. His face cycles from curiosity to surprise then settles on that smug grin of his that you're so used to seeing. Irritation already starts bristling inside but you try to dampen it down, crossing your arms across your chest in a defensive pose. Van mirrors you, but in contrast to your stiffened stance he's much more relaxed, leaning casually against the frame, his head cocked back as he gives you the once over.
"Well, well, this is a surprise. Can't keep away eh? Or maybe you've come round to apologise? Is that it?"
His voice raises questioningly but you ignore his ask, keeping your tone steady and flat as you speak. "Actually I've just come to pick up a parcel. It was delivered today whilst I was at work. Do you have it?"
Your cheeks start to warm immediately, and you try in vain to think of something else... anything else but the contents of your package to distract you but it's futile. You're sure your shame and humiliation is written all over your face as clear as day and Van can work out exactly what's running through your mind. But that's just impossible... isn't it?
The corners of his lips twitch into a wider smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "A parcel?"
"Yes, you heard me," you say, anxious to get away. "Do you have it?"
He shrugs, lazily, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm... Might do... I'd have to check. You coming in?"
"I can wait h..." you start to say but Van reacts before you can get your words out, stepping forward and draping an arm over your shoulder, ushering you inside. You shuffle forwards against your better judgement, cursing silently as your body involuntarily tingles under his touch.
"So... this parcel then? It's something important, right?"
"Does it matter what it is?" You snap, failing to keep your composure.
"It's just that you seem very keen to get it..."
Why the hell is nothing straightforward with him? You follow him into the living room, glancing around quickly, trying to be surreptitious like you're not really interested at all in how he lives. It's not unclean but it's a little untidy. There's a guitar propped up against the coffee table where a messy sheaf of paperwork's been strewn, a jacket slung in a heap on the sofa. A few mugs with half drunk cups of tea that look like they've been forgotten about and an ashtray on the table with a smouldering cigarette propped on it's edge. For saying two young lads live here you're actually pleasantly surprised. You were expecting a slovenly mess, maybe the remnants of a recent party littering the space and takeaway packaging still soiled with last night's dinner. There's none of that.
