The Spectacular

Chapter Three - Her

She stood before him.

Simian's water bottle slipped through his fingers and crashed on the linoleum tiles, sending icy shockwaves to his brain. He had nothing on - except for his boxers, and those had a hole...

Swiftly his hands settled awkwardly on his lower body. His eyes shot behind her. 3 steps. 3 steps back were all it would take for her to stand at his grandmother's door. 

Simian gulped down the words stuck in his throat. His heart rattled so hard on his rib cage he could hear it. The bottle was way too loud. His gran was a light sleeper; she would be up in no time. 

Simian searched for any answer. He had none. Lying was no problem for him but he would be hard-pressed to lie away a live Trinity girl standing before his half-naked form in the middle of the night. 

He didn't even know her name. 

A strange laugh bubbled in his chest. No one would believe that.

The light from the fridge bounced off her dress, every step illuminating the pitch-black kitchen. 

Her bare feet caught Simian's eye. It dulled the shock. His mind began to function. How on earth had she managed to sneak into his house?  Why? How did she know how to come here?

No answers seemed logical. He looked up.

Too late.

He felt her warmth on him. Simian's mind raced, she was too close.

She clasped his face in her hands and drew him to her lips...

His heart stopped. Literally. He felt his blood turn cold in his veins. His breathing was laboured. Pushing her off was useless, she was a dead weight. She inhaled, draining all the strength from him.

His grandmother's shouting woke him. 

Simian sat up in a sweat. He turned to his phone beside him. 

Noon. 

This was the third time this week. 

"Simian!" Gran screamed filling the door frame of his room, "This is enough! People woke up early, picked tea, planted, harvested, and here you are sleeping."

Simian jumped out of his bed and slipped on his jeans.

"Where are you going?!" Gran asked blocking his path. This had been the order of the day for the past three days.

"Town," Simian blurted heaving.

"Who are you going to see? Are you still hanging out with those boys-"

"Gran please, I don't want to fight today-"

She put up a hand "Do I need to worry?"

Simian didn't remember going to sleep. He didn't understand the dreams and didn't quite understand why he woke up so late. He, however, knew everything started on the day of the bet.

He was worried about himself. 

"I'm fine."

Silence sat in the room.

It was clear to both of them he wasn't.

"Think of your mother Simian," Gran finally said.

The memory of the school incident flashed across his eyes. Simian pounded fists down a boy's face. A blood spatter landed in his eye. 

Simian smiled as he wore his trainers, "I am." He wasn't. His mother was the one person he did not want to think about.

Gran looked straight at him, Simian struggled to keep his smile plastered. She stepped aside. Simian wangled inside last night's navy polo shirt. Pausing by his 70-year-old Gran, he kissed her forehead before rushing out.