Deal // Calum Hood

Parents.

Annabelle.
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"Okay, I have a good one."
Calum announced, half way through twenty questions. We had finished studying and his mother had invited me to stay for dinner. I told her yes just to piss Cal off, but he didn't seem to mind.
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Raising my eyebrow a little, I shrugged.
"Go on then."
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"Why do we never go to your house?"
He asked seriously.
Crap. I was wondering when he was going to ask this. He could never come. They think I'm spending all this time in a library doing extra school work. If they found out I had been sat up in a boys bedroom, I don't think I'd ever be able to leave the house again.
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I forced a laugh.
"Do you really want that?"
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Thankfully, he too began to chuckle.
I felt a little bubble of pride grow inside of me. I don't think I'd ever made him laugh before.
"No." He smiled. Wow, his teeth were white. "I guess not."
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"What means more to you, football or music?" I had always been master of changing subjects. The key was to ask them a question you know will totally stump them. One that really makes them think. Makes them forget everything else.
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His puzzled expression let me know he'd dropped the subject of my parents. Internally, I sighed a breath of relief.
"That's the hardest question I think I've ever been asked." He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. It looked so soft.
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He puffed out a huge breath of air, his eyes wandering his walls. Half football posters, half music. "Well if this were practise for the interview, obviously I'd say football."
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"Obviously." I agreed. "Good manners."
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He nodded, a small smile appearing.     I don't know why this made my heart pound.
"But if I'm speaking honestly, I guess I'd say music." His eyes widened as though that was the hardest decision of his life. He turned to me, his deep brown eyes deadly serious. "But you can't tell a soul."
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I pretended to zip my lips.
"Who do I have to tell?" I teased lightheartedly, but the look on his face was immediate guilt.
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Maybe he was realising that I really didn't have anyone to tell. It wasn't that people didn't like me, I had friends, sure. Just not real friends. It's hard when all you do is work. My parents had always said they'd have friends when they were dead, I guess they forced my sister and I into being the same way.
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"Hey, you have friends." He said, his voice suddenly low and honest.
I gave him a look as if to say, 'oh yeah?'.
"You do." He mumbled. "What about Bella?" He asked, referring to a girl I once used to be close with. We grew apart because I could never see her out of school. We still smiled in the hallways from time to time.
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I nodded, giving him the satisfaction.
"Yeah." I nodded. I can pretend if that's what he wants. If it makes him feel better. "Okay, I won't tell Bella. I promise."
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He smiled again and I felt the same rush flow through me. Probably because he never smiled. He hated me and I hated him. Right?
Only, come to think of it, I don't think I did hate him quite as much as I had thought. Right now, he was the closest thing to a friend I had. Of course, I'd never tell him this though.
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"Favourite food?" He asked, moving from his chair to the other end of his bed. The mattress slumped down as he sat on it, his long legs crossing over so his body mirrored mine.
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This one stumped me. How do you pick just one food? "Probably, erm, I don't know." I laughed, all the options running through my mind.
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"What about take out? Favourite take out." He modified it, only now I was more stuck than ever.
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My cheeks burned as I looked at him sheepishly. "I've never exactly had take out." I mumbled, making his eyes bulge.
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"What?" He laughed. "I swear you aren't real."
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"It isn't my fault!" I protested, but I was laughing too. "My parents never let us. We have pretty tight rules." I shrugged, instantly wishing I never said that.
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He watched me as I blushed. It made me blush harder. I looked down at his sheets, fiddling with the soft material.
"Seems like they run a pretty strict ship." He agreed eventually, just before we got called down for dinner.
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