Page 18

“Where the hell have you been?” Liam yells at me as soon as I walk back into his room.
I put the plate of food on the nightstand and shut the door behind me with my foot.
Liam is already standing up with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at me.
His anger makes me dizzy, so I respond in the same annoyed way. “As far as I remember, you were sleeping on that chair, so forgive me if I didn’t want to wake you up,” I add in a mocking tone. “I remember someone telling me to act like I’m not even in this room.”
His lips come together in a narrow line. “I was going to ask you to come down for breakfast with me.”
My mouth is open. I feel a little guilty.
I didn’t think he would think about it.
“Well, you don’t have to do that anymore.” I say this in a quiet voice. “I brought breakfast here.”
He sniffs, and I don’t know why, but it’s funny to see.
“Yeah. It smells good,” he mumbles. “Is it—”
I conclude for him, “Mushroom soup,” figuring that the meal he’s asking for is the one that smells so good.
I walk up to him with the bowl of mushroom soup in my hands. I put it on his desk, and he sits down right away.
I laugh a little when I hear, “Someone’s hungry.” “Is it your favourite food?”
I think it is because Liam doesn’t even try to deny it.
He gently feeds himself with the spoon, but then he abruptly splatters it, which makes me yell in astonishment.
“Be careful. It’s still hot—”
“Did you put f*****g corn in it?” he yells. It’s almost funny to see.
“What?” I say again.
He hisses, “Corn.”
A light bulb goes out in my mind. He really dislikes maize.
“I didn’t know you didn’t like it,” I said. “It wasn’t my fault because I didn’t cook it either.”
He drops the spoon on the tray, which makes a loud noise that echoes in the room. I can’t help but feel sorry for him since his expression shows how upset he is.
“You can still eat it, you know. I can help you with that.” I walk up to him, but his body language doesn’t say “welcome.”
He says, “What do you mean?” in a questioning voice.
“I can feed you and make sure the corn doesn’t get into the spoon,” I reply.
He doesn’t say anything straight immediately, but his enraged look would make anyone quiver. “Are you really going to feed me?”
“Come on,” I say. “Don’t be a baby. Now is not the time to fight. You’re hungry. You want your favourite food—”
With unyielding power, he adds, “I’m not letting you feed me.”
I want to roar in anger. “Then you can say goodbye to your mushroom soup. How are you going to eat it without my help? How would you separate the tiny corns? My God, everybody likes corns. How can you not like it?”
He yells, “Shut the f**k up,” to make me stop talking. “Goddamn it, your voice is so annoying.”
I close my mouth to appear professional. Working with a handicapped person, especially one with a temper like his, takes a lot of tolerance.
We fought like we were still in kindergarten, and I can’t help but feel bad about it.
I ask, “Are you going to let me feed you or not?” and I can’t conceal how annoyed I am.
He thinks for a long time and then speaks so softly that I can hardly hear him. “Just this once.”
I struggle to hold back my laughing as I take the spoon in my hand. I don’t hear mafia bosses acknowledge they lost all the time.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were hungry when you woke up?” I say. “You could have eaten breakfast sooner.”
“Because I knew you would be hungry too and that you needed me to feel safe downstairs to get your breakfast,” he adds, startling me with how honest he is. “I was waiting for you, but you took a long shower. I fell asleep while I was waiting.”
I don’t know what to say. Liam Carter might not be as awful as he looks.
I smile, but he can’t see it.
“Here comes the food,” I hum.
He readily opens his mouth. He eats the soup and closes his eyes in pleasure.
I ask, “No maize, right?”
He sighs and opens his eyes. “Not maize,” he murmurs, which makes me grin again.
He appears happy now, but he still looks dangerous. I wonder whether he will ever smile again. That concept makes me want to work hard to get it.
I jokingly try the aeroplane gesture while I keep feeding him. It doesn’t work at all, and he just gives her a murderous look. I’m convinced that his enemy
would run away right away if they saw it, but it doesn’t bother me. I chuckle a lot. When I laugh, he stops, therefore I stop laughing right away.
I whisper, “What?”
“You’re laughing,” he says with a grimace on his face. “I think this is the first time I’ve heard you laugh since you got here.”
He was right when I thought about it.
I didn’t believe I would ever laugh here again, but I did.
I’m also surprised by the fact.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“It’s annoying,” he says with a frown, and I can feel my head starting to hurt again. “Your laughter is so annoying.”
Why does he have to mess things up?
I laugh, and the remainder of my feeding him stops.
It’s been a few weeks since Emily moved in, and her presence is driving me insane.
I can’t stop thinking about how she cuddles up next to me in bed, how she sings in the shower, and how she talks every time she opens her lips.
I’ve heard a girl’s voice before, but there’s something about hers that I can’t stop thinking about. The sound of her sigh and yawn is still haunting me.
Why does she have to sound so alive and sometimes so angry? I can also hear how gentle and weak she is at the same time. It doesn’t add up.
I’d rather live with a bear on a mountain than with a female if this is how it feels.
Her smell is something else I can’t fight. Damn it, her smell… I wish I didn’t know it. She smells like flowers and candy that are soft. I really dislike it.
For me, there’s just a small difference between loathing it and being fascinated with it. I dislike it because I can’t choose how much it affects me. I don’t want to confess that I’m a f*****g creep, but I would be lying if I claimed I didn’t attempt to smell her aroma on the bed sheets when she was in the shower.
Today, I’m jogging around the house in the evening when I hear someone running up behind me. I don’t need to see the individual to know who it is.
is. Emily is the one who made the footprints.
Her steps are too short compared to mine, so she’s out of breath and struggling to keep up with me.
“Liam,” she says again, and my heart almost skips a beat.
I have no idea what’s wrong with me. Why does my heart not want to help her every time she tries to get close to me?
I close my eyes and breathe in the air as the wind sweeps across my skin. The fragrance of the grass is so strong that it makes me think it’s going to rain soon. Even though it hasn’t begun yet, I can smell the rain. I dislike being in the rain, so we need to go back inside as soon as we can.
Sadly, Emily is going to squander my time again.
I turn around to look at her. She suddenly stops moving, and I can feel her looking up at me.
She asks, still attempting to regain her breath, “You haven’t told me about your practice schedule tonight.” “Are you going to be in the boxing ring again tonight? What about dinner? When do you want to eat?”
“What the f**k are you doing?” I yell, trying to keep my cool. “Why do you always have to follow me? I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself, and I was doing fine before you got here. How many times do I have to say that you’re annoying?”
Emily isn’t saying anything, and I see that what I said could have been too harsh.
“I’m sorry.” To my amazement, she says those words. She really does sound guilty. “I didn’t mean to barge into your personal space. I didn’t mean to disturb your privacy. I just—” She stumbles over her words, sounding like she’s in danger. “I have something to…”
I frown and wait for her to explain. For some reason, my heart starts to race, as if I’m scared that something horrible is really happening to her.