Going Up | ✓

Misinterpretations - (6)

Misinterpretations.

Later on that evening, I'm in the kitchen, doing some washing up. I do have a dishwasher, but I often find that when I am stressed out, washing the dishes by hand is rather theraputic.

Slow, calm music fills the kitchen and I hum along, my head nodding lightly to the beat.

The door bell rings, and I tense. I'm not expecting visitors at this time of night. The girls usually just let themselves in, and I know my parents aren't coming round tonight. It's too late for them to visit just now.

Exhaling, I quickly dry my hands on a nearby dish towel, pausing the music before heading for the door. The person on the other side of the door rings the bell again as I make my way there. I wince, realising the bell is quite loud.

Rolling my eyes at their persistence, I swing the door open and freeze.

Ivan.

He's standing with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish half-smile on his face. 'Hey, Poppy,' he greets me. 'I just wanted to come round and talk to you about what happened earlier.'

'Actually,' I begin awkwardly, biting my lip. 'I'm kind of busy right now, would it be okay if we had this chat another time? It's quite late and-'

Frustration rips across Ivan's face. 'I understand that you're mad, Poppy, but you can't just ignore me forever,' he spits out, his face twisted bitterly.

I shake my head desperately. 'I'm not ignoring you, I promise! I-'

'Oh, really? So why can't we just talk this out right now?' he cuts across me harshly, his eyes flashing dangerously. Oh, he's mad, all right.

I groan, running a hand through my hair. 'I just told you, Ivan, I'm busy!' I reiterate, annoyed. Why won't he listen to me? 'I can't constantly put everything on hold just for you!'

He glares at me icily. 'What are you so busy with?' his voice is stony, and he crosses his arms over his chest, his face masked with a scowl.

I fumble. How do I tell him? How can I tell this man I met a matter of days ago my biggest secret?

His lips draw back into a sneer when I struggle to respond. 'Don't tell me you've got some other man on the go? Maybe my assumption about you sleeping around was correct, huh?'

I clench my fists angrily, so upset with myself that I trusted him with that information about me. 'The fact that you're now throwing that all back in my face after I trusted you, Ivan, shows that I can't divulge anything to you about my life without worrying if other people will find out.'

He shakes his head gravely, his expression changing drastically. 'I wouldn't,' he says in a serious voice, his eyes boring into mine. 'I wouldn't tell anybody anything about you that you're not comfortable with them knowing.'

Anger wells up inside me. 'But you're willing to throw it all in my face, expecting me to be okay with it?' I yell, my hand clutching the door. 'I don't think this is working, Ivan,' I snap, beginning to close the door. We're both yelling, and it's going to wake people up, if I'm not careful. I can't afford to let that happen.

He shoots out a hand, stopping me from shutting it, his eyes glued to something behind me. 'Who's that?' he asks, his voice funny.

I whip around, finding Oliver standing not all that far behind me, fear on his face. I wince. He's probably heard our entire argument. I freeze. What do I say now?

'You're baby sitting,' Ivan's face relaxes considerably. 'Why didn't you just say? I could have come round and kept you company.'

I shake my head quickly, fear filling my veins. If he stays any longer, he'll find out. I feel bad letting him think that I'm baby sitting, but I can't possibly tell him. 'You have to go, Ivan. I'll call you some other time,' I say quickly, still trying to shut the door.