His Flower (Rewritten)

Chapter 36

Hey guys! So I know I said I wouldn't be able to update for a few days, but I'm on a roll! And they say the best time to write is when you're in the mood to, so here ya' go!

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Chapter 36

       "So that creepy old guy with the tomato face was Liam's father?" I asked from my spot on Rex's couch the next day as he sat twirling a football in his hands. Apparently, the twins had left it there at one point, but he seemed to know how to handle it really well.

       "First of all, don't call him tomato face, only you get that name." I pouted at that statement, even though the light in his eyes let me know he was only joking. "And I can't believe you remember that fucks name." That second part came out as a dark grumble, the light in his gaze slowly fading away.

       "But yes, that was his father. He got real peeved I beat up his son, came to the school with the cops to rat me out, and then dropped all the charges." He tossed the football in the air and caught it effortlessly with one hand.

       He didn't elaborate on the 'dropped charges' part, though I didn't really need him to. I knew he was going to be fine. Dad promised he would handle it. Besides, he liked Rex. Or, he did before all of this happened. I don't really know how he feels anymore.

       "So, you're okay now?" I asked seriously as he placed the football down on the coffee table. "No more bad guy?"

       His lips pulled up at the corners in that smirky smile I loved so much—lips that had been against mine just hours before. He hasn't kissed me since, and I didn't want to seem clingy or desperate by bringing it up.

       Honestly, I had no idea what to expect now. Was that a one-time thing? Were we still friends? I knew for a fact friends did not kiss, especially like that. These are all things I wanted to ask him but dreaded the answer too much to actually say out loud.

       "Yeah, Roza. No more bad guy."

       My shoulders relaxed as relief flooded through me. Well, that's good. My arms were wrapped tightly around my knees as I sat curled in a ball on the corner of his couch, still wearing my rumpled pajamas from the night before.

       Rex stood and stretched then, his bare tummy peeking out beneath his t-shirt. The tiny patch of bare, toned skin made my mouth water—until I noticed the little jagged area by his hip. "Do you want pancakes? I want pancakes." He mumbled before walking off into the kitchen without waiting for my answer.

       "Hey, what was that?" I asked as I hopped up and followed after him. My eyes glued to the area I saw the scar, like I could see through his shirt if I tried hard enough.

       If only.

       "What was what?" Rex called over his shoulder as he pulled out pancake mix from one of his cupboards.

       "That mark on your side."

       His arm stilled in the air, and his hand squeezed tightly around the flour-mix. He didn't turn to look at me. "Just a scar from when I was a kid." He finally muttered a moment later as he unfroze to grab a bowl out of a different cabinet.

       "It looks like it was painful."

       "It was." Rex sighed as he started mixing the ingredients together. "But it was a long time ago, don't worry about it Roza."