𝔍𝔞𝔯𝔞'𝔰 𝔏𝔬𝔤𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

#5

I've got friends that will run through walls
I've got friends that will fly once called
When I've nowhere left to go
And I need my heroes
I've got friends that will run through walls

- The Script, "Run Through Walls" 🎵

*

"That's enough, Jara!"

I hear him gripe about something else, but I'm too enraptured in the absolute masterpiece that is Ashish Mehta's body to even accord his words the slightest bit of attention. I nearly curse in awe as my eyes trail down his dusky, Indian face to his spindling frame. My mind is thirsty and desirous as my eyes lock on his pecs, which are just suitable for his body type. He's dripping wet with bathwater, and the droplets glide down that mouthwatering ridge of washboard abs and disappear into the white towel which he drapes in tufts around his waist. His calves are thick and sturdy, and his hair is bristling and moist. I'm looking at a seventeen-year old Greek god.

"You know, if you keep ogling like that while I'm talking, you might get me horny enough to pin you up against that wall," I hear him threaten mildly, cracking into a genuine laugh. My eyes dart downward and I'm suddenly besieged by shame.

"Get dressed," Asha instructs him; and I see his form retreating from us and heading upstairs.

"You!" She's referring to me after a pause. I look her in the face squarely. "I don't care what he says to you. Just know that if you even so much as think about initiating something sexual with my brother, I'll ruin you."

I'm about to verbally retaliate when I hear animated footfalls from the staircase. Ashish is back and he's wearing slender sweatpants underneath a tomato red T-shirt in a suede jacket. He's wearing trainers to boot and a leather wristwatch as an add-on. The boy does know how to accessorise.

"Can we go?" His eyes are ablaze with excitement. "It's almost nine and Reese is waiting."

"Fine," Asha submits. "But you're high on meth if you think I'm stressing these perfect things," she emphasizes while deliberately showcasing her sandalled feet, the material of which sports a plethora of colours. "We're taking the car."

†

Breakfast with Reese and the twins has been a blast. Reese is one of the most vivacious people I've met in my life. The girl can start the most interesting conversations and have us all so hooked we're almost forgetting our meal. The outing also affords me the opportunity to know more about them.

Reese is originally from the good old Volunteer State of Tennessee and her parents are both preachers; the twins are from Goa, India—which he describes as having a substantial Catholic population—but live in California. The house I'd just been to was their maternal uncle's; his kids are already in college and are scarcely seen until summer. Apart from that, I also learn that Ash has a girlfriend in junior year; and I honestly wonder how he copes with dating someone older than he is.

It's now exactly half past ten in the morning and I'm so stuffed on doughnuts and raw milk that I can hardly stand. I've also laughed so much that I fart between words and earn a light smack to my nape from Ash. I'm suddenly very lax; but then, we have homework that won't do itself.

We rise from our positions, Ashish and I on one side and Reese with Asha. Reese offers to call a cab. Ashish generously declines, asking her to leave that to him. As he steps outside, my phone buzzes repeatedly. I pull it out and view the caller ID: Father Dearest.

I slide down the answer icon and press the phone to my left ear. "Jara, kedu ebe ị nọ ugbua?"

I wonder why Dad's using Igbo, my native Nigerian language, to ask where I am right now. "I'm at The Lourdes," I answer truthfully, "with friends."

"Of course you can't lie about being in my restaurant," Dad alerts me.

Oh, did I forget to mention that Dad works in the restaurant we're eating in? That's right, he's a chef. He's been one since Mum married him twenty-two years ago. He chose The Lourdes because it reminds him of the Virgin Mary under Her title of Our Lady of Lourdes, to Whom he's devoted.

"I just called to check up on you," he tells me, to which I sigh.

"Um, thank you, sir," I blurt out before he hangs up. Dad can be very, well, belligerent when he wants to be, but I know he still cares. I only wish he knew how to swallow his pride and say the magic words.

Ashish returns briefly and signals us over. We exit on cue, my eyes warily screening the environment for Dad.

I don't find him.

†

"You're using the wrong formula!" Reese barks at Ashish, who only smiles serenely. "That's not going to get us the right answer."

"The rules of circle geometry apply on all fours in all cases to all cyclic quads. They're basic and they're infallible. " He responds so knowledgeably and yet so modestly that I'm already charmed by his manners.

"Or we could try this," Asha's index finger points at a dreadfully convoluted diagram in her textbook. "It says that the value of an angle in the centre is twice the angle in the circumference."

"What do you think, Jara?" Reese rattles me with that unplanned question. "Which formula will most likely be correct?"

"I suck at this," I admit, my face unassuming. "I don't think you should be listening to me."

"You've got that right," Asha grouches under a forced breath. Ashish glares at her and she recoils.

"I think I'm getting tired," I announce. "All this talk of circles is making me dizzy."

"Aww, you can go upstairs," Reese gushes and I regard her appreciatively. I take a shot at prying myself up, but I suddenly feel that sizzling pain hammer into me and I yelp, my sight beginning to swirl.

"Fudge, I'm getting vertigo,"I loudly complain. Ashish picks me up bridal style and transports me to the room. I immediately remember the salve.

"C-Could you help me w-with-th the s-salve in my pocket?" I plead with him as bouts of pain return to smack me. He pulls the jar out of my pocket and sets me down on the bed, gently tugging my shirt off me.

I hear him shrill and then growl in something I think is disgust. "What is it?" My voice is fell and weak as my body currently is.

"Look down," he commands me. I do and I suddenly understand what he means.

My wounds from last night are freshly bleeding.

†

What do you guys think about Jara's dad now? Please comment! And while you're at it, that orange star could use a little clicking.

And yes, sorry about the maths talk. 😊

Thank you!