your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

sixteen

I rest against Brad's chest as we wait for the pizza to arrive. It was almost nine in the evening and we had watched quite a few films—mostly thrillers—and decided to order some food while this film finishes.

Connor and James has decided to join us and were sat on the love seat, while Tristan was upstairs asleep. Brad's arm is slung lazily over my shoulder as I watch the film.

The doorbell rings as the ending credits show up on the screen and Brad and I shuffle off of the sofa to answer the door. I grab some cash out of my pocket as Brad opens the door and he rolls his eyes at me.

"Two pizzas for Mr. Simpson?" The pizza man asks and Brad takes them, handing them to me.

"Take the note," I tell him, urging him to take my tenner but he doesn't. He ignores me and grabs his wallet from the side and gives the man twenty pounds.

"Keep the change," Brad says before closing the door and taking the pizzas out of my grasp. I scowl at him.

"Why didn't you let me pay for at least some of the pizza?" I ask him as we walk into the lounge. James and Connor were no longer in there.

"It's your birthday, why would I let you pay for the pizzas?" Brad rolls his eyes at me, setting the pizza boxes on to the coffee table.

"You've given me money, you got me a present and you let me come 'round here for a bit," I remind him. "I just don't think you need to pay for everything."

"Well, consider it another present," he says, opening up the pizza boxes. He had bought me a cheese pizza like I'd asked for, while he had pineapple and ham.

I scrunch my nose up as he takes a bite of his pizza, "how can you like that?"

"It's nice," he scowls at me once he's finished chewing and swallowing his bite. "How can you not like it?"

"Well, Gordon Ramsey said that pineapple does not go on top of pizza," I inform him, taking a slice of my cheese pizza, "and he's a professional chef so he knows what he's talking about."

"He goes around screaming at people, and gets them to call themselves idiot sandwiches," Brad argues. "Why should I trust that guy?"

"Whatever," I roll my eyes at him, a small smile on my face. "Once Brexit happens, pineapple on pizza will be more expensive. You're gonna have Hawaiian pizza in this economy?"

"Yeah, of course I am," Brad scoffs. "It has vitamin C, loads of fibre and helps aid digestion. You're just gonna get the shits after you've had your pizza."

I laugh, "I'd only get the shits if I'm lactose intolerant—which I'm not, by the way."

After our debate comes to an end and we've eaten our pizza, Brad decides to give me a tour around his huge house. He shows me around his kitchen, the dining room, and obviously I'd already seen the lounge since that's where we watched the movies.

I follow Brad upstairs and he shows me the bathroom, where all the different bedrooms are (including the two guest bedrooms that he's got) and eventually into a huge room with a piano in the corner. The walls were covered in abstract paintings, and they contrasted against the white walls.

"You play the piano?" I ask, looking over to Brad who has his hands shoved in his trouser's front pockets.

"I used to," Brad shrugs and I walk over to it, feeling over the polished instrument. "I don't really have the time anymore, or any inspiration to play."

"How come?" I ask, turning to face him. He's slowly sauntering over as though he hasn't really been in here for a while. He stops in front of me, glancing down at the piano.

"I just don't have the time," he replies. "Do you play the piano?" I smile, nodding and sitting on the bench before pulling him down next to me. "Are you gonna play for me?"

"Only if you want me to," I say, looking at him and he nods, lifting up the lid to reveal the black and white piano keys. My hands trace over them lightly.

I press down on one of the keys, the sound echoing through the room. Pursuing my lips, I let my fingers play against the piano, making up the melody as I go since I couldn't think of any songs off of the top of my head.

Brad watches in silence as I continue to play, my eyes closing as I concentrate solely on creating the music and when I'm done, I lift my fingers off of the keys and look at him expectantly.

"You're really good," he smiles at me, his eyes set on my face and I feel my cheeks heat up. "How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was eleven," I tell him. "I used to take classes but when my mum left, my dad couldn't afford a house to stay in, never mind piano lessons."

He doesn't ask any further questions and we sit there in a comfortable silence. My eyes wander around the room at the paintings, looking at them silently.

There's a knock against the door and both Brad and I turn at the same time to see Connor poking his head around the corner with a phone facing his shoulder.

"Brad, the boss wants to speak to you," Connor says and I look at Brad who rolls his eyes. I don't question who the boss is, though I was curious.

Brad looks down at me with a sigh, "Do you mind if I take this call? It won't take long, I promise."

"Sure, don't let me stop you," I smile and he gets up off of the piano bench, walking over to Connor and taking the phone. He steps outside of the room and I'm by myself, surrounded by art and facing a piano.

I put the piano lid down, hiding the piano keys before turning around on the bench to face the door. I didn't know what time it was because I left my phone downstairs but I'm sure it's getting late.

The door opens to reveal Brad, and with his other hand he stressfully runs it through his hair.

He looks over to me with a saddened smile. "I'm sorry but my boss wants me in on work tonight, so we're gonna have to cut things short here."

I knew it was past nine already since that's when our pizzas arrived, so I wonder where Brad works at. Maybe he works in a strip club or something and that's why he is so toned. Either way, I don't question why he was called in so late—it's none of my business—and instead nod with a small smile on my face.

"It's fine, don't worry," I tell him, standing up and following him out of the room. "Duty calls."

"I really didn't want to go since it's your birthday, but they really need me for work," he apologises. "I really am sorry."

"Don't sweat it," I tell him. I grab all of my stuff and put on my shoes before running down to Brad's car since it was still raining really badly.

"Will your dad be home now?" Brad asks as soon as he's driven off and we're starting the journey to my house. I don't know how long it'll take to get there since I've never gone this way before.

"I think he'll be asleep," I tell him. It was approaching ten and my dad would've had a busy day so he would've gone straight to bed.

The the rest of the ride home is endured in silence and when we arrive, the rain has simmered down into a light shower. Brad opens my door for me and takes my card out of my hands while I grab my backpack. Once it's slung over my shoulder, I take the card back and smile at him.

"Thanks for keeping me company tonight," I tell him and a smile hints on his face. "I enjoyed it quite a lot."

"I did, too," he tells me and I cautiously wrap my arms around his torso to give him a quick hug. He puts his arms around me too and we stay like that for a moment before I pull away.

"It's nice having a friend to hang out with again," I admit to him. "We should do this again some day, obviously when you've not got work or anything."

"We should," Brad agrees, his eyes sparkling even under the low light. "Happy birthday, Jamie. I'll see you on Monday."

"You definitely will."

HEY JESS LET ME POST THIS BC IM COOL
edited.