Breakfast Buddies [2]
(Malory)
I reach into my jeans’ pocket to grab my phone and check the time. I frown.
Are you really... not coming?
The gate opens behind me and I hear two footsteps fall into a comfortable position. At first, I don’t turn to look at him.
He showed up.
I smile to myself.
I turn to find Kyle with his hands in his pockets, his hair damp over his face.
I look at him pointedly. “When this is all over, you seriously need a haircut.”
He glares at me with tired eyes.
I smile brightly. Something about him being sleepy but up and outside to meet me makes me feel pretty good inside.
We don’t speak as he takes me into the house.
Finally, in the living room, he turns to me.
“Why are you here? Do you know how hard it is to have to erase footage from the security cameras? I know I’m good at it, but you wear me out, Lloyd. And again, what if Ace-” he stops himself abruptly.
Ace?
“What if Clark tells my uncle that you were here,” he says instead. “Even with a fake name, my uncle could ask Clark to describe you. To hunt you down.”
To hunt me down?
I try to appear unbothered. I shrug. “What’s he going to do? Kill me?”
He scoffs. “You say that like you’re so brave.”
I squint up at him and speak confidently; determined. “I’ve learnt to be. And saying it out loud makes it real.”
His expression tells me he’s somewhat surprised to hear me say something like that.
Fake it til’ you make it, Davidson.
“So, again,” he says, his voice neutral, “why are you here?”
I reach into my schoolbag and pull out a white plastic bag with a container inside it. I extend it to him.
“The hell is that?” He asks, confused.
Poison. It’s poison, Davidson.
I push the container towards his nose. “What does it smell like, you unbothered buffoon...”
He raises a curious brow and sniffs at it. “Chocolate?”
“I made pancakes for breakfast this morning, so I did some extras for you. Thought you might appreciate not having to make your own breakfast for once.”
He visually shows his surprise for a few moments. “This is so strange of you. Are you sure you didn’t poison it or spit in it?”
“Spit? That’s disgusting. I wouldn’t do that,” I say, smirking. Then I notice a clear, slightly greasy substance on his face. “Did you use the ointment?”
He pushes some of the hair off his cheek to expose the bruise. “Used it over the weekend. It’s working really well. The bruise is healing nicely.”
I observe it. “You’re right. Your lip isn’t swollen badly anymore, either. It’s not noticeable. Guess there’s no need for the makeup –at least not today. You can hide it well enough with your hair... though if your hair moves you’ll see the marks like blinding sunshine.” Yikes. I shudder as I think about it. Better safe than sorry. “On second thought, I’ll still put on the makeup.” I realise I’m still holding the pancakes. I shake the container gently in front of him. “Take the pancakes, Davidson, I made an effort.” I lean in to whisper, “And they’re chocolate.”
With a bored expression, Kyle responds saying, “I don’t like chocolate.”
I’m baffled.
“Who the hell doesn’t like chocolate? See? You’re a deplorably pathetic excuse of an alien who’s terrible at keeping a cover and this is why they dropped you off on Earth and reneged you.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t make my own breakfast, either, Lloyd.”
“So, then, my theory of you being an alien is correct?”
“I eat breakfast at the cafe down the street,” he assures me.
“Gosh,” I say, frustrated with myself. “My gut was telling me you couldn’t cook and I didn’t want to listen to it. I really should listen to my gut more.” I knock my head with the container in my hand once.
He grabs my wrist to stop me from doing it a second time, taking the container in the process. He sets it on the couch.
“Have you ever been to the Maury Cafe?”
“No...” I say, suspicious.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and uses his other hand to spin me into the direction of the front door. He starts pushing me towards it. I point to the pancakes as I’m forced outside, “But-”
“-don’t argue,” he says.
I don’t speak as we leave the house.