Follow The Rules

The kiss

They had been walking for a few blocks before Oliver finally came to his senses enough to rip his arm out of her grip and stop walking. She turned, surprised by the sudden action.

"What's up?" She asked innocently.

"What are we... What about? Why are we...?" He stammered not entirely sure how to voice his confusion, but she seemed to understand.

"To be honest," She sighed. "Back there you looked like you were about to murder a kitten, but feel so guilty about it that you'd murder yourself afterwards. So to spare both your life and the metaphorical kittens, I thought I should take you somewhere kittenless."

"But... there aren't any kittens at the school either." He stammered stupidly, frustrating himself. However, he had managed to calm down somewhat, no longer having difficulty breathing and his brain seemed clearer of the thoughts that caused him panic in the first place.

"Ollie, you're missing the point." She huffed, grabbing his wrist again and continuing to march him down the street, in the opposite direction to how he would usually walk home.

"But, I have practice." He said, but made no effort to get away from her again.

"Like you were going to go anyway." She said without looking back. Oliver frowned. Just because she may have been right, it didn't mean that she had to be so blunt about it all.

"Well what about art club?"

"Oliver. Just shut up and walk." She said, and he found it hypocritical of her to be telling him to shut up, but did what she said anyway. Eventually, he fell into line with her and she let go of his wrist, the two of them walking silently and Oliver began to get a little worried.

He didn't want to sound like a cocky, rich-kid, but as they continued walking, Oliver was getting a little concerned at their whereabouts. It wasn't like e didn't know poorer people and such, and he had no prejudice towards it either way, it's just that his father had always bought him up with the best things, and as the houses began to get rattier and he hated to say it, but so did the people.

Eventually she stopped out the front of a brown, wooden house that to Oliver's surprised had an extremely neat and colourful garden, lined with flowers of all sorts in strange patterns. There was an uneven stone path that led from the driveway to the steps of the front porch, which she began heading down. Oliver hesitated for a moment, not sure what to expect inside. He's only known this girl for a week and now she was bringing him home. He managed to come back to his senses and hurry off down the path after Daisy.

"Mum. I'm home." Daisy called as she swung open the front door that wasn't even locked. Oliver made a note in his head to tell her that she should really lock it. Anyone could come in. Anything could happen.

"In the kitchen, Sweetheart." Was the reply that they received from somewhere down the hall that was directly in front of them and Oliver stood taking in what he was seeing. The house was a mess. Boxes, toys, clothes everything all over the hall. There were rugs and pillows everywhere in the living room to the right and there are piles of papers on the dining room table to the right. Oliver had the gut churning thought that he would never want his father to see this place.

Daisy headed off down the hall with a skip, easily dodging the stuff lining the hallway, whereas Oliver had to go at a slower pace, tiptoeing around the boxes, and random stuff on the ground.

He followed her into a large kitchen and he had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing. The kitchen was all bright green. Green counters, green tiles, green fridge, everything green. Except he couldn't be certain about the fridge because it was covered top to bottom with papers – some were drawings, some letters and some were photos – stuck up with colourful magnets of all shapes and size.

Daisy waltzed into the room, and took a seat in one of the four wooden chairs around a small, square wooden table, that sat in the middle of the kitchen, one leg tucked up under her. As Oliver tentatively stepped into the kitchen, he finally caught sight of the woman, standing on a step ladder and reaching up into one of the green cupboards obviously struggling.

"I wasn't expecting you home for another hour or so, sweetie." The woman said, obviously straining to reach whatever she was trying to get. Immediately, Oliver swung into action.

"Um, can I give you a hand?" He said stepping towards the woman, who looked at Daisy with a weird, knowing smirk that he couldn't quite place.

"That would be amazing. You would think I would know by now not to put things I use frequently in the top shelf." Said the woman, who Oliver presumed to be Daisy's mother, as she stepped off the ladder. She was quite a short woman with short, spiky brown hair. She was dressed in a purple t-shirt that was covered in paint and looked to be a little too big for her petit size, with a pair of three quarter blue jeans that were in the same state. He smiled at her when she was completely off the ladder and had stepped aside for him. "It's just the blue jug in the back corner."

"Sure." He climbed up the step ladder and saw the blue ceramic jug like bowl which he could reach easily. He was about a head taller than Daisy's mum, so it wasn't really a surprise when he pulled it down in a matter of moments and handed it to Daisy's mum.

"Now, who do I have to thank for this heroic act of chivalry?" Daisy's mum asked, looking over her shoulder to her daughter who sat watching the exchange. At least this showed Oliver where Daisy got all her... quirkiness... from.

"Oliver." She said casually and Oliver inwardly thanked her for not making him reply. Heroic? Him. No. If only she knew. Oliver extended his hand and she took it, shaking it as she replied.

"The Oliver?" She was obviously asking Daisy, who simply shrugged and started picking at her nails. What did she mean? Had Daisy mentioned him to her family? His family didn't even know that she existed.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Oliver." She was still shaking his hand and Oliver really wanted to rip his hand away from her, but didn't want to be rude. It wasn't like she wasn't being gentle or anything. It was just the general touching that he wanted to avoid. She gave his hand a little squeeze before letting go and moving to the kitchen counter to continue preparing dinner, it looked like.

"You too, ma'am." Oliver responded, feeling extremely awkward standing in the middle of their kitchen. Should he sit down? Should he help? He didn't know.

"Oh, listen to you. You can call me Brenda, sweetheart." Daisy's mum gushed, giving Daisy a quick glance. "He's a true gentleman, Dais. I approve."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest the implication that he and Daisy were dating or something, but he didn't have a chance because suddenly something very loud and very fast came bowling into him. Oliver caught his balance easily, on mildly stumbling to regain his footing, but when he looked down he saw a boy, probably around the age of ten with the same curly brown hair as Daisy sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Oliver said, reaching down to help the kid up, but the boy, slid across the floor in one swift motion away from him and Oliver suddenly got very worried that he had hurt the boy so much that he was too scared to be near him. That logic seemed oddly familiar to Oliver, now.

"For goodness sakes, Ash." Daisy's mum – Brenda – said exasperatedly, not bothering to turn her attention to the boy who was now army crawling around the kitchen, past Brenda's feet and under the table.

"Shhh." The boy said aggressively, waving a hand to tell her to go away. "You'll give away my location to the enemy, woman." Brenda sighed but said no more. Oliver could help but notice the boy was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"Oliver," Daisy finally piped up from the table and walked over to Oliver who still stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, pulling down the sleaves on his shirt subconsciously. "This is my weirdo brother, Ash. Ash," She called and leaned over to be more at Ash's height. "This is Oliver and he's not the enemy, he's my friend from school." She explained, but Ash was still glaring at him.

"That's what you think." He said in a malicious whisper and somehow narrowing his eyes even more. Oliver thought it weird to be so intimidated by a ten year old.

"Mum," Daisy said, standing up straight again and looking towards her mother, completely ignoring her brothers comment. "Ollie's just going to hang around here for a little bit. Is that alright?"

"Sure honey." Brenda said, chopping up some onions on a chopping board. Daisy muttered her thanks before she grabbed his wrist again and began dragging him out of the kitchen when Brenda stopped them. "Oh, Oliver, sweetie, will you be staying for dinner?" Oliver looked to Daisy for help. He didn't want to be a pain to her mother and he didn't even know if Daisy wanted that. She might've only wanted him to stay for an hour or so until she was convinced he had calmed down and wasn't going to – murder a kitten – and then just kick him out.

However, Daisy looked at him with the same look that her mother was giving him, obviously saying that it was entirely up to him. He thought about his parents at home. How he probably wouldn't even see them until dinner and even then, his father didn't sit and eat with them all that much now. After dinner, Oliver would just lock himself in his room like usual and draw until he felt like enough of the memories were temporarily at bay to be able to sleep. It was never enough though.

"That would be great, thanks." He found himself saying, wanting to stay out of the house for as long as he could. "If that's alright?"

"That would be lovely." Brenda smiled at him before Daisy tugged him out of the kitchen and down the hall until they reached a room on their right that was obviously Daisy's because it had 'DAISY' plastered on the door in cute, little, wooden letters that had little daisy flowers painted onto the white letters. She pushed the open and Oliver was surprised by what he saw.

It was practically spotless. The room was small with pale yellow walls that had a couple of daisies painted on them with matching white furniture. There was a single bed in the far corner, a dresser, a wardrobe, a bookshelf and to Oliver's surprise, two desks. Every book was put away neatly, there were photos of Daisy with friends and family all over the walls along with paintings and drawings, her bed was neatly made with pale yellow and white sheets and the white carpeted floor was spotless. Daisy waltzed into her room and immediately took a seat on her bed, sitting cross-legged and watching Oliver. Oliver, however, walked in slowly, taking the whole picture in and after getting closer to the desks – that still intrigued him – noticed that one was a normal desk with school books and some more photos in frames, and the other desk was covered in paper, pencils and other art supplies. It was the only part of the room that was messy.

"Before you say anything." Daisy said, watching him examine her room. "My mum loves to play on the fact that my name is also a flower. I've thought about painting it, but I haven't got the heart."

"I love it." And he did. It was very... Daisy. He smiled at her as he took a seat in her desk chair – the one with books and stuff – and began spinning around in it aimlessly, still observing the room.

He sat in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to her ramble on about her day and her family. Her mother is an artist which wasn't a surprise, and her brother was in fact ten with a very wild imagination. He was quite content with just listening to what she had to say while not really listening, just enjoying the fact that his thoughts were being drowned out by the constant talking like he usually did. That was until Daisy decided to break the tradition.

"So..." She started off in a tone Oliver hadn't heard from her before and he immediately knew this wasn't going to be a conversation topic he couldn't just stay quiet for. "Do you want to talk about it?" Oliver looked at her.

"What?"

"You don't have to." She defended. "I just thought you looked like you needed to release some stuff." His murderous rampage. That's what she's talking about. Oliver looked to his lap, not exactly sure what to tell her. She went through a lot of effort to help him. Simply saying 'no' seems unfair to her. He had to give her some sort of explanation.

"Oh, right... Um..." He stammered. "Just had a pretty crap day, is all." He shrugged, still not looking at her and pulling his shirt sleeves down.

"Egh, that's the worst. Why was it crap?" Of course she wouldn't just let it go. Oliver shrugged.

"Just... was." He looked up at her with that, wanting to see whether she would push him any further.

Daisy sat looking at him in a quite a similar way to how her brother had, as though she was trying to read his mind or something and Oliver immediately looked down, fearing that she might actually be able to do it. After a moment though, Daisy simply shrugged and leant back against the wall.

"Okay." She said lightly, but he knew she wasn't convinced, especially since his excuse was f*****g terrible. The fact that she had accepted it was almost worse than pushing him. Everyone else pushed him. Why didn't she? It was so confusing and frustrating. That's what he wanted. For people to leave him alone. People like John and his parents. But not Daisy.

He suddenly had the thought that maybe the reason it frustrated him so much was because he actually wanted Daisy to push him to talk. But why would he want that? He didn't want to tell anyone. He couldn't, because he knew what would happen. He'd be judged, pitied, and most likely murdered by George if he ever found out that Oliver had told someone.

"Our little secret."

"Hey, where's your dad?" Oliver said abruptly, wanting to change the topic. Get Daisy talking again to drown out these thoughts.

"He's in the military." She said simply, tracing absently on her sheets with her forefinger.

"Oh." Real intelligible

"He's been in the service for five years now." She continued, and Oliver couldn't help but be relieved that he had got her talking again. "He comes home every six months or so for a couple of months."

"That must be hard." Sure, Oliver rarely saw his father and they lived together, but at least if he really needed something, his father was there. Having your father being away for six months at a time, Oliver couldn't imagine.

"Yeah, kind of." She shrugged. "But he calls us constantly and when he's here it's like he never left, you know? I think it's harder on Ash. He absolutely idolises him and what he does."

"I guess that explains the whole army crawl and enemy thing." Oliver said with a slight smile, now understanding the strange actions the boy had done in the kitchen. Daisy nodded.

"Yeah, he's always pretending he's in his own little war. He's said that that's what he wants to do when he's older. Take after Dad."

"That's cute." Oliver said, and meaning it. Although Oliver had spent the majority of his life trying to impress his father, he never wanted to end up like him. He wanted a family and knew that his family would come before work. Before money. If he had kids, he'd let that kid do whatever the hell he wanted, even if it was something like art that didn't bring in money. He'd love his kids no matter what they wanted. No matter what they did. No matter what happened to them.

"Dinner." Brenda called from the kitchen and in no time they were seated around the dining table, the piles of crap pushed to the far end of the table with Daisy and Oliver on one side and Ash and

Brenda on the other.

Oliver had sent a text message to his mother, informing her that he was going to be having dinner at John's house which he knew she'd appreciate for two reasons. One: that maybe the "family dinner" wouldn't be as awkward without him there and two: that she'd be happy he was socialising with his friends. He often went to Johns house for dinner, and he hoped that the white lie would help her think everything was going back to normal. She didn't need to know that he hadn't spoken to John for days.

Even before what happened, Oliver's family meal had never been anything like Daisy's. It was loud and fun and Oliver actually found himself laughing. Brenda and Daisy kept constant conversation going while Ash spent most of the time trying to make some sort of weapon out of his knife and fork and aiming it at everyone on the table. He'd prefer to be with these weird people over his parents any day. It was a strange feeling that Oliver felt completely foreign to. But it was nice.

"Do you want some more, dear?" Brenda asked after she noticed that his bowl was empty, she noticed before he did. He looked down at the bowl and couldn't believe his eyes. Oliver didn't even notice that he was even eating the meal in front of him. Taking small bites between fits of laughter and the next thing he knew, his bowl of stir-fried noodles was empty. He didn't even feel sick.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm fine." He declined politely, not wanting to offend her, but knowing that now that he knew his stomach was full, he wouldn't be able to eat another bite.

"Are you sure?" She asked, standing and collecting the rest others bowls. "Because you sure look like you could use some more." And it was sort of true. He had probably lost close to ten pounds over the week and with the lack of exercise, considering he used to practice football or baseball every night after school. He had noticed how his clothes felt a little bigger on him, and when he looked in the mirror – although he tried to avoid doing that at all costs – his cheeks looked a little hollow and his eyes were sunken with bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Truth be told, he didn't look particularly healthy in any sense of the word, but Oliver didn't care, and apparently no one else noticed. Except Brenda, a woman he had never met before, someone who had nothing to compare him to. Oliver dismissed the strange thought with a 'thanks for dinner' when Daisy dragged him back to her bedroom.

The evening was going a lot better than he'd ever imagined it going after the afternoon he had had.

That was until Daisy closed the door to her room and spun around rapidly.

And kissed him.