London Has Your Eyes

Chapter 41. Anton

I look out the window. The rain rolls down the glass in streams. I see her sitting in the car outside the house, not moving away. She's probably just like me, trying to collect her thoughts and realise what just happened.

And then she accelerates sharply. The car swerves, the headlights bouncing across the road. I'm really scared for her. She's basically not the best driver, and even more so in emotions. I dial her number. Long beeps. She doesn't answer.

I've got to smooth this over somehow. I don't want to scare her off or I'll never get her back. I need to take a step back right now so I can move two steps forward. I order flowers and send her a note of apology. I know she'll calm down. She always only needed to be given a little time. Emotions will settle down, she will hear me. She'll figure it out for herself. But something must have gone wrong.

A loud knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Someone, it seems, is not just knocking on it, but kicking it with all the dope.

- What the...- I mutter discontentedly, opening the door. A second. Pierce. Second. Fist. And here I am, lying on the floor with a sharp pain and blood streaming down my cheeks.

- What the hell are you doing here, Pierce? - I bark, getting to my feet and wiping my face with a towel. I touch my nose - it doesn't seem broken.

Pierce stands at a distance, breathing frequently. His eyes, full of anger, don't promise anything good. Or vice versa? This is my chance.

- Why the hell are you messing with my girlfriend, you bastard? - he growls. I smirk. Has Sasha really told him everything?

- What are you talking about? - I ask, making him even hotter. I want him to say it out loud and look me in the eyes and understand the whole impending threat.

- You kissed her! - He gives in to my provocation.

- Did she tell you that? - He tries to throw himself at me a couple of times, but the sofa between us prevents him from making a quick manoeuvre. I've taken a very advantageous position.

- Your fucking broom told me that! Get off her, you got it! She's mine. And I won't let you even get close to her. You think I'm gonna give Alex to you? Whatever, you idiot. She chose me. Roll your balls the other way! - he doesn't stop, yapping like a little dog.

- What did she say to that? - I need to know how she accepted what flared up between us again.

- That you're in the past, you moron. She's over you. - He wants so desperately to believe it. But I can see him looking for confirmation of his words. So something made him doubt after all. And I decide to act. It's now or never.

- Is a kiss all she told you about? - I ask.

I see how the implicit subtext of my question puts doubts in his head. He's too emotional to reason sensibly, and that's good for me. His eyes widen, his fists clench, but he freezes, glaring at me.

- What did you just say? - he's clearly trying to control himself, but he's losing control. I can see him one step ahead. I throw a lot of doubt at him. With one vague question. He'll figure out the rest himself.

- I ask: did she only tell you about the kiss? - I smirk, anticipating an easy victory. He clings to the back of the sofa with his hands, leaving marks.

- Did you sleep with her? - he says slowly, as if every word hurts him.

- She and I have a long history. Things like that don't go away, - I say still vaguely, watching as my subtle hint gives birth to a new truth in him. He believes exactly what I want him to believe. Emotions drown out his logic, which means they make him obviously weaker.

- She didn't... She couldn't... You're lying! - he yells, admitting defeat.

- If you were sure of that, you wouldn't have come running here to sort things out with me. I'll get her back. She'll want to come back. There's nothing you can do. Now get out of here before I call the police, - I say with a sense of superiority.

He rounds the couch in no time and throws another punch at me. I don't resist. I let him do it. I meet physical pain with open arms. It helps to distract. It's better than what's going on inside me.

If he's that agitated, she's worried. She couldn't help but feel it. Sasha was always very emotional. I bet she gave herself away. And the bouquet added fuel to the fire.

If I calculated it right, either he made a huge scene for her, or he left her without forgiving the affair. I think, with his impulsiveness, he'll choose the second option. He'll ruin everything on his own. All I have to do is wait a while and lend her a shoulder in time. And while she's forgetting him, I'll remind her of how good we were together.

And most importantly, I can always say that I didn't say anything like that. He made it up on his own. He jumped to conclusions. He was aggressive. And he doesn't control himself at all. I'm a fucking genius.