The Seven Day Gangster

Chapter 20

(ARIANNA'S POV)

I played with the tassels on a couch pillow until Nathan came back, looking concerned and troubled.

I knew he probably wasn't going to answer, so I decided not to ask him what was going on. I mean, it was just some gang business, totally unrelated to me anyways.

Well either way, no matter what that whole argument was about, it was just upsetting me to some extent of how I was still this outsider. True, I hadn't even been there for very long, but I hated feeling all out-of-the-loop like I did at that moment.

"What are you thinking about?"

I shot my head up, completely lost in thought. "Oh, nothing much," I lied, not wanting at all to explain what I was feeling.

Nathan looked at me flatly, unconvinced. "Alright," he said slowly.

I shrugged and positioned myself in an armchair to make myself more comfortable.

Nathan walked over, in his slow dragged out way and sat opposite me on a burgundy couch. He sat down suddenly and threw his legs onto my lap.

I scowled and shoved his legs off. "Get off."

Nathan ignored me and placed his legs back onto my lap.

Obviously, telling him to stop wasn't going to do anything. I sighed and resorted to flicking his feet.

When that did nothing, I pinched his calves, trying to grab the most skin I could under my fingers.

"Ow! Ow! What the hell!" Nathan retracted his legs back quickly and frowned at me, rubbing his legs. "You fight dirty," he muttered under his breath.

"And you're just a sore loser," I returned with a snarky tone.

Nathan shot me a glare.

We sat in silence, as he finally decided to put his feet on the space next to me.

I studied my nails, which I had painted the day before I had been allegedly 'kidnapped' or whatever it could be called.

The polish was chipping now; I decided to ask Marlee later about getting some remover.

"How was she?"

I looked up, seeing Nathan looking at me, a slightly tense expression on his face.

"How was who?" I stared at him.

"Your mom."

I looked down at the ground instinctively, my natural radar going off. Usually I liked to avoid talking about my mom to anyone really, even my closest friends. Over the years, I had slowly built a wall of caution around me, so I wouldn't accidentally say anything that would trigger any sort of emotion similar to kind I had experienced when my mom passed.

But now, Nathan had sort of just vaulted the wall, if I was going to continue with the metaphor.

I stared at my hands, at the chipping nail polish. "She was, well. She was always happy," I said, clearing my throat. "I can just remember her smiling all the time, always. She was just this really friendly person; I don't think there was anyone out there who didn't like her after meeting her. And she was always surprising me. I remember once when I was playing in the house by myself. And I broke this one porcelain doll while I was running. And it wasn't just any doll. This was her favorite porcelain doll. I still remember it; it had the most painstaking attention to detail on the face. My mom loved it. She had always been warning me beforehand to be careful around it and all that. So when I broke it, I just freaked. I was scared out of my mind. So I clustered all the pieces together into one pile and just took off. I don't know where I was planning to go, but I was so scared what my mom was going to do."