Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 74.: Pleased

Savouring the last glass, I imagine what her meeting with Mason will be like. This was hell for me before due to knowing she'd fall right into his arms and melt, but now... Let's say, I am a man of my own destiny.

So, what could happen when they meet? I just want to explore a few scenarios.

She would probably wear a scarf, but wearing a scarf in the middle of summer in Boston will tell the poor average boy that she has something to hide. He wouldn't trust her, and probably wouldn't even make the proposition to give him another chance. Or she would due to the high temperatures remove the scarf subconsciously, and Mason would see that she is not up for the taking.

I gently rock the glass in my hands like I'm a rich British aristocrat enjoying his gin and tonic, or like I'm a mastermind, a sort of Illuminati. Well, in a way, I did do whatever I had to to make sure Annabelle would not stray back to Mason.

Why didn't I think of doing that before when she went on a date with Dominico? Oh, it's such a great way of getting rid of all competition, and I only thought of it now?

My only problem now is, will her hickeys disappear before she meets him? I can pretty vividly recall she said she is going to meet him sometime this week, but... what if the plans change?

I have hard time believe her hickeys will disappear in a matter of a day. If she is so quickly to get sunburnt, and if she gets both her chest, neck and cheeks red from a little embarrassment, I dare say the hickeys are going to last. Even when I had hickeys, it'd take a week for them to heal, and my skin is in a pretty untouchable shape - I get tanned, rarely sunburnt, and if I even blush, it's gone pretty quickly. I still don't believe I blush.

Eh, I think I'm fine, her hickeys aren't going anywhere. As long as they prominently stay on her neck for the time when she's meeting Mason, I'm good with it.

There's crying coming from Devon's room and I head right over there. Why does he have to wake up crying every damn time?

"What now?" I say when I walk in and see Devon lying on his back in the crib and making saliva bubbles, while going cross-eyed from trying to see how big they can grow.

I intentionally pop one that begins to become bigger, y'know, in a baby proportions, and Devon looks at me as if I've betrayed his whole family and slept with his mum.

Nonetheless, upon indicating that I will stretch my arms, he forgives me all of the sins I've committed and stretches his high up in the air.

"Nu-uh, work for it, big guy," I kneel next to the crib. "Get up on your own and I'll take you out. Fair and square."

I am taken aback when Devon with a couple of swift-for-a-baby moves picks himself up and gazes up at me.

Well... I thought it'd keep him busy, that it'd take a bit more time. Jesus fuck, I should be happy! It means his development is progressing and that he's a bright kid and all.

"Wow," I smile and lightly clap with my hands, which he mimics by trying to clap while jumping in his crib.

Though, he doesn't forget about my promise. The moment I'm done clapping, he outstretches his hands, and says: "Meeno!"

"Meeno?"

"Meeno," he confirms with a big grin that is not completely toothless any longer. "Meeno. Meeno. Meeno." He starts repeating the same word in a singing manner, "Meeeno! Meeno, meeno meeno. Meeeno!"

As lovely as he is, and as adorable as his singing is, I have no damn clue what he wants from me. What the fuck is a meeno?

Asking him no questions for I'm sure he's going to reply me with a meeno, I scoop him up and steady him in my arms.