Radio

Chapter 21- 25

Chapter Twenty-one

An intimate and animalistic dream of a moment popped, by the unexpected arrival of a familiar curvy, dark curly-haired thirteen year old girl, reminding Feather and I that we were neither at the secluded table-top boulder spot nor alone in the new house.

"What's taking you guys so long?" Dialect said with a suspicious look and her hands resting on either side of the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer/dining room. "And are you sure you guys aren't boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

The sound of her voice snapped us out of the trance we had been in as we turned our heads to look over at Dialect before answering.

Feather was just reexamining my hand, I telepathically said, after reopening everyone's mental doors. I just had to hope my face wasn't as red as it felt. And Geez Louise, my heart is beating really fast right now.

"Honeybun," Feather answered as though what he and I were just doing was perfectly innocent.

"Why don't you go back into the living room, while I finish tending to Ray's fingers."

"Oooh-kay. If you say so," Dialect said, her eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "But it would be totally okay with me if you guys were in a relationship."

Thank you sweety. That's very kind of you to say, I telepathically said, wishing my thoughts sounded more composed than embarrassed.
Taking some mental deep breaths, I continued, But like I told you earlier, if he and I were in a relationship, you'd be the first one we would tell. In the meantime, will you please do as Feather requested.

Dialect nodded, turning to go back into the living room but not before peering around the doorframe as if she was going to find us continuing to do something boyfriend/girlfriend stuff— whatever that meant for her.

"I totally forgot she was there for a moment," Feather whispered, after hearing Dialect walk back to the living room.

Me too, I replied.

Feather, with a disappointed sigh, stood up and carefully helped me to my feet, making sure the wrapped bag of peas remained on my poor fingers. Though the pain was slowly diminishing, which was awesome, I was more relieved that there weren't any and I mean any blisters forming on each of them. Can I just say how much I really and truly hate blisters, especially when they pop and ooze— major grossness and way more painful than whatever caused them. Then to have to train with the discomforting open blisters, regardless of the bandages... uh-uh. No freakin' way.

Sorry for being a bit graphic. At any rate and it having been barely ten hours or so since we declared our love for each other, we looked into each other's eyes in basic silent agreement that we needed to be more careful when we decided to display signs of affection... again, until we, or rather I, were ready to tell the unit that we were becoming more than just best friends. But I had to re-remind myself that we were weeks, months away from jumping over that hurdle.

Anyways, upon entering the living room, the makeshift couch was still more or less how it had been when it had been just the two of us this morning. While I noticed Feather started searching for blankets to lay down within the unpacked boxes, my attention was more focused on Dialect, who was too engrossed in what she had been watching before checking on us to pay much mind to what Feather was doing. For a small instant, it was like she was five again, her torso leaning heavily against her folded legs with her arms wrapped around them as she watched whatever movie the Compound had allowed us to watch. But as this memory faded, I noticed she was more than halfway through the seventh season of Game of Thrones. I suppose I should be happy she wasn't re-watching Twilight or any of the X-Men movies. The latter  were too degrading for me because it made contradictory opinions within the normie population. Mutants were okay to like or love because they were based on fictional characters in graphic novels and therefore were non-threatening in anyway shape or form. I can't help feeling incredibly disgusted, whenever I see a normie wearing, have tattooed or who are in possession of anything relating to the X-Men, hero or villain. However, us abominations, thanks again to Marcus Grey and his company, are made out to be less than human who could bring on the apocalypse if unleashed or evil blood-thirsty monsters that would snatch up little children in the night. Okay that's a bit of an exaggeration and not totally truthful, but hopefully you get the point. And the Twilight Saga— well, I really don't want to go there. Regardless, I'm going off on another tangent that isn't important to the here and now.