The Dating Game

Chapter Forty-Eight

Justin

The weekend had approached and I was spending the day at Juliet's house.

We were messing around in the spare room where the piano is, accompanied by the miniature wooden piano on top that I had sculptured for Juliet. Her dad was frantic and dashing around the house.

"I'm going to be late for work," he muttered, bursting through the door as Juliet was sat on my lap, my hands on top of hers on the piano. "You two will be okay for a few hours, won't you? There's food in the fridge or you're welcome to go out and buy something. There's money in my room. I really must dash. I'll be back in the evening, sport. Goodbye, Justin."

Without even lingering for a response, the door slammed shut abruptly and his thudding footsteps were perceptible as he was racing down the stairs. A moment later, the door opened and slammed shut. Juliet turned around to me and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sometimes he becomes quite mad when he's in a rush," she explained. "You wait; the door will open again because he will have forgotten something."

And a minute later, the door opened and Ian bellowed, "It's only me! I still had a slipper on! Bye!"

Juliet put her hands back on her lap and chuckled softly along with me. She said, "I think he's becoming senile. I said the same to Michelle and Beth once but I don't think they believed me."

"Your dad isn't that old, Juliet," I protested.

"He's old enough."

After another hour of messing around on the piano and frequently kissing between hysterical laughter, we decided it was time for some lunch so we raided the freezer. We managed to find some curly fries and southern fried chicken steaks so we cooked those. It wasn't typically healthy, but when it came to dishing up the food, Juliet was busying herself with the arrangement of the fries and ignoring all of my safety precautions.

"Do you think it looks like curly hair on the steaks now?" she asked.

Holding the burning, vacate tray that was utilised in the oven, I held it over the sink and peered over Juliet's shoulder. The curly fries, incidentally, did look like someone's manic, frizzy hair. Smiling, I congratulated her on her artist talents when it came to measly curly fries and then transported the plates into the lounge.

"Can you get two cans of Coke in the fridge please?" she called out.

Gently placing the tray in the sink, filling it with water, I took off the oven mitts and raided the fridge for the cans of Coke. Juliet had already devoured half of her hair from the deformed face that was on our plates. As soon as I handed her the Coke, she consumed half of that, too. Consequentially, she finished her food a lot quicker than me.

On the other hand, it was reassuring to know her appetite wasn't being too modified, and for the worst, either.

Whilst we were in Juliet's room, I got a call from my mom. Answering it, she sounded peculiar on the other end of the phone. She said, "I know you're not meant to be home for a good few hours, but could you come home now please? Will you apologise to Ian and Juliet, too?"

Juliet mouthed, "Is something wrong?"

Retaining the eye contact, I answered to Mom with, "What's going on?"

"Please just come home, Justin." And then she hung up.

Gawping at my phone in incredibility, I said to Juliet, "I don't know. She just said to go home straight away basically." Kissing her forehead, I added, "I'm sorry, but she sounded weird. Will you be alright on your own?"