Polka Dots

2.| hey, wife

Delilah:

I walked to the library, ready to claim my usually lunch table. Too bad for me it was taken. By Max.

"Um, that's my table. You're in my seat." I said as I neared the table.

"Come on, wife, can't you share?" He smiled lazily.

"No, and stop calling me that."

"Are you ashamed?" He mock hurt.

"Very."

"If you must know I'm here to talk to you." He said. I pinched the bridge of my nose tilting my head back a little.

"Why? What do you want?"

"We need to establish some things, make a schedule. No wife of mine should be left in the dark."

"Stop calling me that. What do we need to establish?" I took a seat across from him.

"Well I thought, you know, we could make a timetable. Schedule each other into our lives."

"I don't want you in my life." I spoke slowly, allowing him to soak up the words.

"That's irrelevant, really."

"I don't follow."

"Look, Deli-can I call you Deli?- whether you like it or not we have to do this. My grades, your grades, our marriage-they all rely on your cooperation. This isn't a game, this is something on our long term to-do list."

"First of all, don't called me Deli. Our marriage relies on nothing, because that's all it is, nothing. Of course this isn't a game or else I would've called quits when this dumb project was assigned."

"Now that you've given your two cents, let's make a schedule. I've got practice tonight and it'll run late, so maybe we don't have to count today. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Really? With what?"

"I suspect I'll be avoiding you all day."

He rolled his eyes. "Delilah, take this seriously. You don't have to like this-hell, you don't have to like me-but we are doing this. And we're doing it together."

Then lunch bell rang then, freeing me from his presence.

"After school tomorrow come to my locker. Locker 139, upstairs."

•••

Impatient. It's never been one of my many characteristics, but as of this moment I felt as if I'd been this way my whole life.

I'd been waiting at Max's locker for about ten minutes. How dare he stand me up after complaining about his grades.

I shook my head and began walking down the hallway to the stairs.

"You weren't about to leave, were you?" A familiar voice asked.

"Of course not." i ground out.

"Good. Let me grab my bag, then we can go."

I wanted to ask 'go where' but the sight before my eyes momentarily distracted me. Max was at his locker standing in basketball shorts that clung to him and a T-shirt with cut off sides. His arms flexed incredibly as he pulled his bag from his locker.

"Done staring?" He asked swinging his back over his shoulder.

"I wasn't--"

"Of course you weren't. Come on."

My brain finally began to work again as I followed him down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked.