The Amateur Archaeologist

Chapter 43:- Back at Brownstone

The second blast I waited for, never came.

You can't blame me for being skeptical, after all, I was kidnapped in the middle of the night from my bed by the God of Death in men in black apparel.

The second blast did come, but it wasn't how I'd expected it to be.

"Ivanka Nichrome Algebra Mckenzie!" Lison came out of his brownstone in fresh clothes, his hair askew, "what the hell were you thinking?!"

Seeing Lison worried reminded me of my mother, usually she'd quadruple name me whenever she was fuming from boiling range like Vesuvius about to bury Pompeii.

Lison buried me in a bone crushing hug, his messy brown hair caused my skin to itch.

"If anything had happened to you... Amelia and I would've been buried beneath the ground and your mother in a jail!"

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me until I was on the verge of a blackout.

"I tried to come after you but someone slashed my tires!"

His eyes darted towards Maya, "I didn't do it," she said mischievously while playing with a knife.

Lison shook his head in dismay as he pushed my inside, "Get in the shower the lot of you, you reek. I'll take a look at your injuries later."

"Thanks... my shoulder is still bothering me." Hunter rotated his shoulder with a sigh, giving Maya a side eye.

"I'll give you something to bother about!" Maya buried the knife on his brown shoe rack as she ran after Hunter.

"Where is James?" I asked as Lison was about to shove me in.

"He's with Cassandra," he answered, "...does James know that Cassy knows yet?"

"He does now," I sighed, "wait... how did you know?"

"You're the only one with a faulty memory here, Nicky." He smirked. "Get in the shower or else I'll hose you down!"

"Come in,"

I turned the knob and went inside the room. James was sitting on the edge of the bed, he was wearing a blue T-shirt which was a little too big for him. His face was covered with bandages and his glasses held together with Dutch tape which had turned the skin above his ear red.

James smiled upon seeing me. "You don't smell," he said.

I sat down next to him. "I took five showers."

For some time, neither of us spoke anything. James was staring at the carpet below, his hands fumbling nervously. I on the other hand was busy chewing my fingernails, afraid to speak.

"I–" the two of us said at the same time.

"You say," he smiled.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, "for everything... I... I would understand if you never want to speak to me again."

James took a deep breath. His silence was killing me. "Why would I want that?" He looked at me with the same warm expression he'd carried since day one. "You're my best friend, Ivanka Mckenzie, a day without you in my life is impossible to imagine."