Perfect love

We're Not That Different

"It's okay sir, I'll just go home," Jude says, his shoulders still tense.

"C'mon kid, get on. You seemed to be talking about something serious and I wouldn't want to interrupt," my dad pressures.

"Of course you didn't," I mutter under my breath.

Jude's eyes quickly turn to me and slightly soften.

Though maybe it's just my imagination.

I open the back door and get in. Jude follows suit.

The ride home is silent and he doesn't relax. My dad asks the occasional courtesy questions but the conversation doesn't move further.

When we arrive home my dad opens the front door and heads straight to the living room, lazily sitting on the sofa. Jude joins him and as I'm about to sit down dad speaks up.

"Shiori, why don't you go and make some tea?"

I get up without a word and start heading to the kitchen.

"I-I'll go and help her," Jude cuts in.

"It's okay kid. She can do it. And you're our guest."

"Really, I want to help her. And I want to finish our conversation too, if you don't mind," he says, getting up.

"Oh, yes, of course. Wait kid, what's your name?"

"Jude, Jude Sharp, sir," he then turns around and gets into the kitchen.

"I can do it by myself, you know," I tell him.

"Yeah. I still don't think it's fair for you to do everything just because I'm here," he says, putting the kettle on the fire.

"Oh, such a gentleman." I roll my eyes and take out the tea bags.

"That's how I was raised, m'lady," he winks as he elegantly bows.

"Damn you," I say, as I feel my cheeks getting hotter," well, whatever, I'm not doing this just because you're here. It's always like this, don't be so pretentious."

"So you're used to this. You're used to being treated as a servant in your own house, right? This is what you were talking about before. The emotional manipulation," he turns to me as he smirks, "as you see, you're not the only one capable of analyzing. But there's just on thing that escapes my understanding. You are a brilliant girl. You are a free-spirited and strong girl yet you succumb under a simple things he asks. You could easily say no and that's it. So why? If this is manipulation you could break free from it with one simple word. Why don't you?"

His short analysis puts me on my toes and I try to avoid answering it.

"The kettle's boiling already," I gesture with my head, "You can go back now."

But instead of doing as told he grabs the kettle and trips, some of the water spilling on his shirt.

He hisses in pain as the liquid touches his skin. I quickly take the kettle from him and put it down, grabbing his wrist and guiding him to the nearest bathroom. His amber eyes are glassed over but no tears fall.

"You're so clumsy."

As I close the bathroom door he starts taking off the blazer and unbuttoning his shirt. I feel my cheeks on fire, making me instinctively turn around.

"Oh, um... I can just-" he says when he  notices my discomfort.

"N-no, it's okay. You do whatever you need, I'll just look for the cream."

I start rummaging through the cupboard but quickly realize that what I need is on the top shelf. I get on my tip toes and try to grab it, but it's all in vain.