The Girl in The Green Scarf

T h i r t y - t w o

C H A P T E R

32

- S e b a s t i a n -

"Man! You're worse than a girl getting ready for prom," Alex says, inviting himself into my room.

He is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, socks and a wide grin. How he is not freezing to death is beyond my understanding.

He hunkers over a bowl of cereals as he navigates his way through the cluttered marriage of cloths on the floor. "What are all these clothes?"

"Maybe you can help yourself into something, perhaps a shirt. Or trousers," I say, shedding my blazer.

"No thanks, I fancy my cereal this way." He lifts a large dripping spoon to his mouth.

"Alex, hand me that tie under your foot and naff off." My voice is muffled, my arms tangled in the mess of my shirt as I yank it off over my head.

He crouches to pick up the tie, looping it around his finger. "Don't you think a tie would be going overboard for a first date? You want her to think you're uptight?" he mumbles around a mouthful of cereal.

"Butt out of this, Alex, It is none of your business," I say, seizing the tie out of his hold. "And there is no her."

"Ri-ght," he says satirically. "And there is no date either. Which explains why you got your knickers in a twist and planning on sneaking out twice in a day. And not just any day. The day Uncle D is leaving for London and would surely ask for you."

He stands up, picking a blue shirt that ends up landing on my head.

"How about this, it'll bring out your eyes," he says with a snicker, dragging out the word 'eyes'.

"Oh please do shut up," I fume, yanking the shirt off my head- and then indignantly put it on, because unfortunately it turns out to be something I like.

I face the mirror, fixing up the tie, which I soon give up on and toss to the floor along with its fellow abandoned garments.

How does one dress to impress without going over the top into pretentious town?

I heave a sigh, unfastening the upper button and rolling up my sleeves. Alex is right, I'm a hopeless case. I comb my fingers through my hair, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I was right, it does bring out your eyes," Alex says, flicking a soggy cereal at my forehead. "Or not, I'm not sure. Can you open them?"

I shoot him daggers, wiping off the wet spot the cereal left on my face.

His spoon clinks in the bowl as he prepares to plop down on the edge of the couch.

"Don't sit on that!" I snap, lunging myself at him.

"What!" He shouts, pausing mid-air with a seriously puzzled - freaked - look on his face. "What is it?"

He looks over his shoulder, where his butt was going to crush my ongoing sewing project.

"What is this unholy thing?" he asks with a grimace, picking it up with two fingers.

"That," I say heatedly, snatching it out of his hand. "Is a shawl I am making, thank you very much."

His face remains puzzled for one more moment before he splits into an amused cackles. "You... made this?"

"Still working on it," I mumble, running my index finger on the stitches I've made in the corner. Whisper.

"Yeah, you have a lot of working on it to do." Shaking his head, he lays down his cereal which has gone mushy by now.

He sprawls on the couch and reaches for the remote control.