Mr. Mafia Man

Chapter XII: The Guest

"Hey." I twist in my seat so my body is completely facing Nicolas. "Are we going to talk about the moment we had last night."

"What moment?" Nicolas asks, deadpan, keeping his eyes on the road, AKA not looking at me.

"You know, the one in front of my room, where you touched my cheek, and stuff." I stutter, getting kind of embarrassed at this point. Now that I say it out loud it doesn't sound like much, but trust me, in the moment it was.

"Hmm... I don't think that seems like much of a moment, and even if it was, it didn't mean anything to me." He says coldly. I humph and sit back in my seat, crossing my arms. If he doesn't say its a moment, I guess it's not a moment, but it kinda felt like one to me. Especially after Dmitri butted in with the "he's really trying" talk. I don't see one shred of evidence of his "trying" here

Currently we were in Nicolas' really ugly supercar, and he was driving me back to my apartment after leaving my mother's house. She was still teary eyed this morning, despite me still being safe. Since I didn't drive myself to the house, Nicolas kindly offered to drive me home. After the weekend I've had I plan on crashing on the couch and sleeping the day away, to hell with whatever Tiffany says about that "not being good for your back"; it's not like I don't already have back problems.

We pull up to my apartment, and I jump out as the car is still rolling, eager to get the fuck out of that car and away from Nicolas and the awkwardness I generated by initiating the conversation about our so called 'moment'.

"Woah, woah, woah," Nicolas calls out the window as he parks the car. "Let me walk you inside. Wouldn't want you getting kidnapped again."

I shake my head, rummaging around in my duffle bag for my keys and unlocking the door. "That was one time. And this is a pretty nice neighborhood, I don't think I'm gonna get kidnapped here."

Opening the door, I step into my apartment and motion for Nicolas to come inside. As he removes his shoes in the entryway he says "This is a pretty nice neighborhood, actually. How in the world did a broke college student like yourself afford these digs?"

I shrug "I have a roommate." I throw my duffle bag onto the couch and shuffle into the kitchen to make lunch. I was planning on crashing on the couch for the rest of the day, but since Nicolas was here, I had to feed him. It was just common courtesy, and despite what you might think, I'm not a complete monster.

Deciding to make spaghetti, I put the noodles on to cook and start on the sauce and meatballs. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes." I yell into the living room. I listen and hear a call of affirmation from Nicolas. After I finish setting everything up to cook I go back into the living room to see Nicolas looking at my family pictures up on the wall.

He points to a family photograph of my biological mother and father. "Is this your real father?" I smile and join him in examining the picture.

"Yeah," I smile. "He died when I was eight, that's why my mother is married to Steve."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Evelyn." Nicolas says softly, looking at my face like he was concerned that I was going to start crying.

I wave my hand around in a don't-worry-about-it manner. "Nothing you could do. It's been over a decade since he passed. I've gotten over it." And I had. I was young, so I don't remember much, I can't even recall the funeral. "I just feel lucky to even know my father, as some people don't even have that luxury. Plus, I kinda got the feeling that my parent's marriage was on the rocks before he died, so they probably would've have been separated soon anyway."

Just then a timer goes off in the kitchen, indicating that the spaghetti was done. I drain the noodles and further prepare the dish, but when I go to set the table, I find that Nicolas already has. I don't know why, but I kinda felt warm and fuzzy inside when I turned around and saw a silent Nicolas placing forks and plates down without even being asked. I quickly shook my head, reminding myself that he was an insolent ass, and placed the spaghetti on the table.

"Ready to eat?" I asked, and he nodded. We sat down and started eating in pretty much complete silence when Tiffany walked in in office clothes. I don't know what Tiffany does for a living but because she covers most of the rent I don't really care. And I've only had to lie to two FBI agents and five police officers after moving in here two years ago, which I think is a pretty sweet deal.

She tossed her keys in the bowl and let her hair down out of the tightest bun I think I have ever seen in my entire life while she sighed. Nicolas and I just watch her, as she massages her scalp and turns around. While I look at her I suddenly become self conscious. I usually just think of Tiffany as annoying, but for the first time I realize she is pretty. Very pretty, certainly more so than me. Tiffany is Asian, more specifically Japanese, and embodies all of the desired traits of that culture.

Clear skin, small face, thin, long legs; Tiffany has it all. And when I notice Nicolas looking very intently at her, I feel myself getting smaller. But then I check myself before I wreck myself. Nicolas is just a good looking twat, nothing more. If Tiffany wants the bastand, she is welcome to have him. Tiffany might be good looking, but she would not survive three seconds in an underground gator fight, which is something we all have had to do at some point in our lives, and I would so I, once again, feel secure in my femininity, and (bonus points) survival skills.

When Tiffany spots us, instead of saying "there you are" or some other on brand Tiffany shit, she is obviously very surprised.

"What is Nicolas doing here?"

Word Count: 1074 Words

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Whats up, fruit cups?

I know y'all missed me, but dial the applause down folks. I know you guys probably have a lot of unanswered questions after this chapter but, please, don't be a feared, I know how to tie up loose ends and not leave plot holes. So do not worry.

Until next time, enzymes.

-3AMmayhem