Fighting for Life | ✓

7 | Breakfast with Him

"What do you think I am doing, AJ? To that, what are you doing? You trying to get a serious injury or what?" Finch said, leaning on the door, replacing the smirk on his face by a slight frown. His voice was low. And deep.

"Well, I just wanted to get out of the house," I shrug

"Are you crazy?" He asks incredulously but doesn't wait for me to answer. "If you wanted to get out so badly, why come here at all? Could have asked me to take you somewhere!" He runs his hand through his already disheveled hair.

"I didn't want to bother you any more than I already did, and I can't stay here when I am like this," I pointed at my legs, "my family will worry too much, as if I've broken a leg or something. So, I can't let them know, alright?"

He shrugs as if it's nothing. But he and I both know that this is a great deal.

"What do you need?" He asks, his voice coming so much hoarser than before. He clears his throat at that.

"There's a black bag in the cupboard; there's everything I need," I say quietly, afraid that if I say anything loudly, I'll disturb the tension in the room.

He silently retrieves the backpack from the cupboard, swinging it to his back he bends down to pick me up.

I take a deep breath as pain shoots through my hips. "Shit," I mutter under my breath.

Finch glances at me warily but doesn't say anything.

We are out of my house in seconds. And in the next few moments, I am placed with my backpack in my lap in his luxurious Regera.

"Where are we going?" I ask once he starts configuring the destination in the car.

"My place," He says as if it's nothing.

But it is. To me, it is a big thing. I've never been to someone's place without consulting my parents. And even if they let me, it was for merely one hour. Today it's different, though. My school's of six hours that means I will be with Finch all these hours?

My eyes widened in realization as the reality of today hits me. It is the first time anything like this is happening. And maybe the last time, because I don't want my parents' trust in me broken. I don't want this little freedom I have to be snatched away from me.

I didn't realize we arrived where we were supposed to get to until Finch threw me on his shoulder.

"That hurt," I sneered in pain

"It did? Good," he grumbled.

"What an ass," I mutter and slap his back. His lower back, right where I knew a good slap would hurt. It would sting.

He groaned.

Good.

"Now, that hurt," he says, there's a playful tone in his voice.

I wince as he swings me so that he can carry me bridal style now. I meet his blue eyes and say with his matching playful tone, "It did? Good,"

He chuckles, placing me on the couch in the living room. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll go grab something to eat," He then leaves the room to go to the kitchen, I assume.

I take that time to observe his place. For someone like him, I thought it would be a giant mansion or something like that. But instead, it's a small house, not that small, but compared to what I had in mind, it was small, smaller than my house. But it was homey and warm, this house.

His living room was simple, and yet it sent out opulent vibes. But I can tell, he hasn't invested that much money in the house, but to the facilities and one's comfort.

Is there a difference?

Yes, there's a big difference.

The house itself is simple and very cozy but; very well designed and the appliances and furniture so luxurious but elegant and warm. His home was very welcoming.

To say that, this couch is so damn comfortable I may come used to it.

Finch returns with two plates in his hands. And he has changed into a pair of black shorts and a grey tee. Yep, I noticed.

"What do you have there?" I ask as he sits beside me.

"Oats and fruits," He says, handing me one plate.

"Ok," I draw slowly eyeing the boiled oats on my plate. Ugh, I don't like oats. They're tasteless. Or so I think, but either way, I don't like them. But I eat them anyway because they're healthy.

We eat in silence, and I somehow managed to complete oats without cringing or gagging. And I was surprised at that. It seems, keeping my manners in front of a boy serves me well.

I almost snort at the thought. Because I never was one of those girls who was a whole different person in front of boys, or those who would do anything to impress them. Nope, I was me wherever I could be myself.

People could go fuck themselves in the ass for all I care. Sometimes, I just wish I could have the same attitude towards my family, but I can't. They are my weakness, and I love them despite sometimes thinking otherwise. Family is family, and that's where one would bow. They are the ones who can break a person. And it hurts like a bitch when your own family doesn't support you and backstabs you.

"You don't really like oats, do you?" Finch asks when he returns to his original seat after going to put back our plates in the kitchen.

My eyes widened at his words. "Your face said it all with each bite you took of oats," He shrugs with an amusing smirk on his face.

Ha! Enjoying himself, isn't he?

"Not really," I gave him a small smile

"Then why didn't you tell? I would have given you something else. Not actually I'm glad you didn't say anything, I kind of enjoyed watching your pretty face when you ate that," He winked at me.

Is he for real?

My face turned into a shade of red at his words.

"Ah, so that means you were watching me eat?" I retorted teasingly anyway.

He raises his eyebrows at my tone and words. He tries to keep his natural, but I can see color creeping through his ears. He opens his mouth to reply, but someone beats him to it.

"Please tell there's something to eat in the kitchen," I turn toward the voice, only to see the only person who caught my game in the school. My eyes widened at the sight of him rubbing his eyes as he descends the stairs.

"What the fuck?" I exclaim in a panicked state

* * *

Having no filter is the best trait to have, sometimes. S o m e t i m e s. Most of the time, it's a curse.