Eighty Days of Heartache

the fifth day; [1]

THE FIFTH DAY
» PART [1]

USUALLY, SUNDAYS ARE the day of rest. I can relax on Sundays, as all of my work has been completed and I have enough time to binge watch The Vampire Diaries or Peaky Blinders. But today is different.

I've had several texts from Nero already, and it's barely hit 12:00pm. Saying that he's excited for our date; that he can't wait to see me; and to make sure I dress warm.

But it's when my phone begins to buzz, and I see his name flash across my phone screen that I feel the lump in my throat that I haven't been able to shift for days grow tenfold.

I pick up after pausing Peaky Blinders on my laptop, contemplating whether or not to tell him I'm too busy, but my better judgement gets a grip of me by the throat and shakes me until I'm pressing the green answer button.

"Hello?" I mutter into the receiver, listening for any sign of him down the other end of the phone. He begins to laugh, making me sag on my bed. He didn't butt—dial me. That's a good sign. Can people even butt—dial with touch screen phones nowadays?

"You sound a little nervous, babe," it sounds busy wherever he is on the other end of the line, but I don't comment on it. "I thought I'd call, make sure you still want to go on the date today... as much as I want to take you out, I don't want to pressure you into anything."

My heart swells, and I feel the dull ache in it quieten down for a small while. "Yes, I still want to go on the date with you tonight," I'm smiling, and if he can't hear how big it is in my voice, then maybe he isn't as intelligent as we all peg him to be.

"Good," he's smiling too, I can hear it waver through the receiver. It makes my own smile grow tenfold bigger. "I'm still picking you up at six, I have your address... please make sure you dress warm, I don't want your brother to kill me if you get a cold."

I chuckle, scratching the bridge of my nose awkwardly. This isn't so bad. I'd expected that dating Nero would consist of a lot of anxiety, but I'm fine. I'm complete and utterly fine.

"Blake won't kill you if I get a cold," I assure, but I don't know whether or not I'm lying. Blake would probably beat Nero if was late home by two minutes.

I can hear Nero scoff down the other end of the phone, which makes me roll my eyes slightly. But I'm relaxed, even if Russel is beside my bed growling in his sleep.

"Blake's overprotective of you," he derisively mutters down the end of the phone, making me blink at his (accurate, yet still brash) accusation. "I went into Apple Jack's yesterday, and he threatened to cut my nuts of if I so much as made you slightly uncomfortable."

This is news to me. But I'm not surprised. Blake has always been overprotective of me, and ever since the aftermath of Theo that overprotectiveness has bordered a new type of insane.

"Ignore him," I murmur, my hand dangling off the bed as I stroke Russel's head. "We do... my family, I mean," clarifying, I feel Russel lick my fingertips before settling down. He's a big puppy.

Laughing, Nero's voice becomes soothing down the line. "As much as I love hearing your voice, I have to go... my boss is giving me a dirty look, I mean, it is my break —"

"You're at work?" I cut him off, sitting upright and withdrawing my hand from Russel; who sits up as well, his head tilted. "Where do you work?"