I'll Take A Bullet For You

Chapter 16

        "My parents are dead," Alistair says.

        My stomach twists almost painfully when I hear that. I want to say I'm sorry, give my grief to him, but all the air is taken away from me.

        "I needed someone to take care of me until I can take care of myself. Two new people were selected to be my fake parents until I turned fourteen. After that, their contract finished and they left." 

        During the time I try to believe what he's saying, I don't notice that he's been watching carefully. He's making sure my reactions are satisfactory through this conversation. He speaks so methodically but...something is unstable inside of him. I don't see it, and he makes it impossible to be recognized, but I feel it anyway.

        "What about...this house?" I look around his bedroom. "Who's paying for it and who's looking after it, I--"

        "Someone owns this house, and is allowing me to stay in it for free," he replies. His eyes are all of a sudden stern as they fix on mine. He wants me to listen carefully. "It's part of a deal, okay? For anything in it, for the food, for anything, I don't pay a single penny. I, hated to be in here, especially when my fake parents were still in the house.."  

        I don't know what to say, but I have so many questions now. "If you hated it here, why didn't you just leave?" I ask. Alistair stills. 

        "For...many reasons," he says. "First of all, I wasn't allowed to leave. Second of all, I agreed to the deal and I'm sticking with it, and third..." When he doesn't say anything, I choose it as an opportunity to bud in.

        "What's the deal?" Because it seems like everything he's telling me now revolves around some kind of deal. A deal he supposedly took and now has to live in a big house all by himself taking care of himself. When he's abnormally quiet, I come to the conclusion that it must be something personal. I wave off the question with a hand and he narrows his eyes. Instead, I say, "Do you cook by yourself, too?" 

        He pushes is chair from the table and stands. "Let's go downstairs," he says.

        "So you do know how to cook," I tell him, unable to contain the small smile coming up on my face.

        "I might have something for you," he says, but he's quiet, like he's done something illegal. 

        In the kitchen, Alistair brings out a plastic box and closes the refrigerator with his foot. I stand to the side, watching him open it. I'm too curious to wait on the sidelines so I come up and peek in like I'm looking into a well. When Alistair notices, his lips twitch like he's going to smile. Then he frowns.

        "Why are you looking at me like that?" he says. Crap. I was excited to finally see him smile, but my cheeks burn hot in disappointment. "I made these," he says, pushing the box of pastries over to my side. "Um, for you." He avoids looking at me.

        I look at the mouth-watering pastries that are neatly arranged in the box, and then at him. "Thank you...Alistair."

        His mouth opens but closes, and he turns away, hiding his face. "I'll prepare something else," he says, stretching his arms to the cabinet above. "Do you want a drink?" 

        "Are you kidding? If you'd given me a single strawberry, I would've been happy," I say. Alistair frowns at me. "Well, if only it's red and ripe and really sweet." Alistair is probably thinking what an i***t I am now.

        He takes out a blender and murmurs to himself, "I can't do this."

        "Huh?" I ask.

        "Nothing." He pulls out a jar of cut fruits from the refrigerator. " I can't choose what food I get so this is what I have to eat."

        "What do you mean?" I ask.

        He brushes a hand through his hair, hesitating. He tells me he is forced to eat certain foods to stay healthy and you know, fit and strong. But he can still have certain foods he desperately wants, like the Lays and Doritos. I personally can't imagine the circumstances Alistair is in right now, and if he's always this adapting. He'd been raised that way ever since he was little, so I guess he gets used to it. 

        "Take however many and whatever fruits you want from this," Alistair tells me. "I would've already made it but I don't know what you like. I have strawberries." The container has at least five different sliced fruits: melon, strawberry, oranges, grapes, pomegranates, apples and banana. 

        He watches me from the island as I use the tong to put in the fruits I like into the blender. I'm happy as I do this. I'm smiling and I'm so happy that I'm here, in Alistair's house, with him. I've always wondered about him, and he's been such a mystery to me. And still, the more I get to know about him, the more I find myself liking him. 

        When I carry small bits of strawberry towards the blender, a couple slip out of the tongs. I bite my lip, embarrassed. I look back at him and smile sheepishly. "Sorry," I say. Alistair folds his arms on the island. After I pick up the strawberry pieces, wash them, and pop them into my mouth, I tell Alistair I'm done.

        "Okay, just wait a minute," he says, taking over as I watch from the island in his place. I always lose myself when I stare it him work the blender. So swift and smooth like he owns the machine...which he does.

        "I bet you want to show me how good you are in the kitchen," I say, a little teasingly, pulling myself on the counter. Whenever Ruth tells me to wait in the kitchen as she makes something, she usually wants to show off. I like to tease her about it. Alistair glances at me, but looks away.

        When the smoothie is done, he gives me a glass. I, again, tell him it's amazing. When I tell him he should be a chef one day, he says he's not that interested.

        "Do you work?" I ask him. The topic came up, so might as well.

        "Kind of..." he starts, trailing off. "But not really. What I do is kind of different. It, uh, comes with my deal." The deal. Are you serious? I ask him about the deal again and finally, he decides to say something. "I can't say much," he says, concentrating on his smoothie. "The other seven people, Curtis, Mathias, Jarvis, and the four girls I'm sure you know about now, we're all in this deal. It kinda bonds us together whether we like it or not, and if someone breaks the rule, they're out. They live in a similar house just like this one, all by themselves. The girls moved here because uh, our goal is coming." He sighs sharply, and I stop mid-sip. "I don't know how to say this, okay? It's really hard. Please, it's--"

        "Alistair," I stop him, a little worried. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me, and you don't have to try. I promise you I have no second thoughts of being here because of what you told me so far."

        Alistair stares at me in surprise, sort of like that first time I talked to him in kindergarten. The blue in his eyes is vivid and absorbing, his lips are parted slightly and locks of charcoal hair scale his forehead and nape. He's so captivating and he's changed a lot, but those blue eyes have always stayed the same. They've always watched me with that steady thoughtfulness, almost curiosity, but that must be my imagination.

        "I...I'm sorry for trying to know more about you. You can tell me if only you want to. Okay?" I say. "Thank you for everything." Alistair is so silent and his eyes are drilling holes into me--I become uncertain and my words die down. "Alistair?" 

        He puts his glass down and leans over. I hold my breath when his eyes become clear and close. "I want--" He clears his throat and steps back. "Nevermind." I furrow my brows in confusion. He lifts his smoothie and takes a long, slow sip.

        "Can I ask you something?" I ask a little hesitantly. It's been gnawing on me for a while. Alistair lifts an eyebrow, but waits. "What...what happened to your parents? Your real ones? How did they...die?" His face turns dark, and I try not to shudder.

        "They were shot."