Chapter Fifteen - Sentiment in Profanities

"Wow, it suits you."

I shoot Hendrix a glare before inspecting my freshly wrapped hand. My middle and ring finger are in a splint, my index knuckled wrapped. Maybe I should go as a mummy for Halloween, I'm already halfway there. "It's itchy." I say through a sigh, trying pointlessly to flex my fist, despite it being professionally restrained.

"Maybe it'll teach you a lesson on how to funnel your anger into other means of retaliation rather than just punching people in the face." Hendrix muses with a grin, hoisting Ellie's car seat further up his arm before pointing to the subtle purple hue on the bridge of his nose. "The Doctor must've thought you was a nutter."

"More than," I mumble, throwing a nervous glance over my shoulder. "I thought they were going to institutionalise me when I was screaming at you for leaving a baby doll in the car." Hendrix chokes back a laugh, throwing a casual arm over my shoulder, an action foreign between us.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't have let them take you." He grins boyishly, earning a roll of my eyes.

"Don't think you'd have had much of an option. She looked like she was ready to wrap me up in a strait jacket faster than I could say 'I'm not a lunatic'." I tell him grumpily.

He sighs and steers me in the direction of the main entrance. "Sounds just like what a lunatic would say." I scoff at him, shoving him slightly with my side, knocking the both of us off balance.

"Steady on." I warn him. He grins at me, squeezing my shoulder slightly.

"I'll pretend like your threats scare me when you've got a hand wrapped up like a pork joint." I scowl at him but can't hold back the bubble of laughter that escapes me when I hold out my hand to inspect his claim. "How does it feel?" He inquires with newfound sincerity.

"Like I didn't punch him hard enough." I confess, climbing into the passenger side of Hendrix's car after he's put Ellie in the back seat.

"Really? Because to me it was like watching a cartoon where they have the birds and the stars floating around their head." I laugh again, but this time it quickly deflates. He begins driving, letting the pair of us mull in a comfortable silence before he disturbs it. "I'm sorry."

I turn to him with my brows knitted in confusion. Another apology? "Sorry for what?" I ask him.

"For coming over. I feel like I might not have helped the situation." He says through a sigh.

"Well, I don't think you made it better." I say with a slight grin. "But don't be sorry. I totally did not have it handled." I tell him. "He's a massive douche." I add, scrunching my face up when an image of him worms it's way inside my mind.

"A douche?" Hendrix echoes. "You've called me far worse for much less." I chuckle slightly, curling my body up on the chair so that I can face him, watching him drive with a look of focus.

"Yes, but sometimes when I say dickwad, I mean it to be endearing." He smiles at me then, throwing a chaste glance in my direction before setting his eyes back on the road.

"Oh, endearing? Remind me to buy you a dictionary for Christmas. Seems like you could do with scrubbing up on your definitions." He tells me. I'd punch him, but I don't feel like ruining my one good hand, or distracting the driver. "So, and don't take this as me getting involved," he begins, raising a brow at his subtle jibe to our last conversation on the topic of Adam, when he ended up with a fist to the face. "But, what happened?"

I sigh and turn my head to look out of the window. "Dreamboat and his girlfriend broke up. He's wanting to 'talk' and won't take no for an answer." I mumble, hoping that the rather short and nondescript explanation will be satisfactory. Elijah nods in my peripheral but says nothing. I turn back to him then, brow cocked in suspicion. "What did you mean when you said he didn't listen to you?"

"Are you going to lose your temper?" He asks me seriously in response.

I shake my head. "No, I think the painkillers have mellowed me for the next hour or so." I tell him, though I don't think aspirin quite has that effect.

"I didn't get rid of him by telling him his girlfriend was hot," he says slowly, piquing my interests slightly. "I said, in a nutshell, that if he was so desperate to stalk his ex that he comes to a party uninvited, then it was a pretty amateur move to bring his current girlfriend along for the ride. And then I told him to get lost." I guffaw and shake my head.

"I'm sorry, how do you carry your bollocks around? What with them being so big and all?" I retort snidely, but I'm grinning all the same. It feels oddly refreshing, having Hendrix defend me behind my back. "You really said that?" I inquire sincerely, unable to hide the smile, down to feeling utterly flattered.

"Pretty much, maybe with some slightly more colourful language, thanks to our drinking competition making me a little more incompetent than I let on. I thought he might've punched me, but his girlfriend was absolutely bubbling, so he was too focused on trying to convince her it wasn't true. He left because she left." I nod in understanding, trying hard to ignore the strange fluttering in my stomach. "I'm sorry for lying." He adds. I'm smiling again.

I shake my head and pat his hand that sits on the gear stick. "That's alright. Though I'd have probably been less mad knowing you didn't actually call her attractive." I confess without actually meaning to.

He laughs and then throws me another look, a warmth in his eyes that makes feel oddly tingly. "Next to you? Nah. You'd win by a mile." My lips twitch as a massive grin threatens to betray me, fuelled by the peculiar warmth growing in my chest. I turn to the window and just briefly catch my reflection.

Am I blushing?

~

We pull up outside my house and for some reason, I falter.

"I, uh – thanks. For today." I manage to get out. Hendrix nods and offers me a kind smile. I climb out, leaving the passenger door open as I clamber in the back to reach Ellie. Just as I'm about to close the door, I say something I hardly even have time to process. "Do you want to come in?"

Hendrix looks at me with curious eyes. "I don't know," he drawls playfully. "Last time I was in your house, I got quite the Mike Tyson punch." I roll my eyes and hold up my newly wrapped hand and knuckles.

"I think your safe from the pork joint today." I tell him. The green of his eyes twinkle with amusement and I see the smirk form as he concedes, turning off the engine and climbing out of the car.

I walk to the front door, followed closely by Hendrix. I'm surprised to find it locked, so I fumble in my bag for my keys. Inside, there is no one. I assume that my parents will be working, but to not even see Ezra's shoes in the foyer, it surprises me. I don't mention it though, thrusting the baby to Elijah as I kick my shoes off, bee-lining for the kitchen. The cupboards, much to my dismay, are bare.

Well, they're full, actually, but not with snacks which is what I really want.

"You hungry?" I call out to Elijah as I lean into the fridge, using the door to support me.

"No, I'm good." He says. I shrug and grab some of the left over pasta bake, heating it in the microwave for a couple of minutes before returning to Hendrix, plate in one hand, fork in the other.

"Come on then." I mumble through a mouthful of pasta, nodding in the direction of the stairs. He follows me and as I pass, I press my ear to Ezra's door. Nope, nothing. No sniffle of tears, no out of tune singing to Disney songs, nada. He must really be out. Well done Ezra; finding purpose to life that extends past wallowing in self pity over his failed relationship. Hendrix pauses as I do but I encourage him forward, cringing slightly when I notice my room is slightly more messy than the last time he had seen it. In fact, I'm flat out embarrassed when I see that my underwear drawer is wide open, thongs akimbo.

"God, I thought women were meant to be clean." He mumbles with a grin, placing Ellie down on the ground. I slam the drawer shut with a knock of my hip and start throwing the clothes strewn on the floor into the laundry basket with little care as to whether they're clean or dirty.

"There you go with those gender stereotypes again," I sigh, straightening out the duvet on my bed. At least I had the sense to fix it this morning. "Besides, I grew up with three pig brothers so if it's anyone's fault, it's theirs." I tell him.

"Yes, yes, blame it on the men." He says through a  boyish grin. I cast a glance around my room again. It's not clean, but it looks tidier I suppose, though the damage is already done. He knows that I'm actually a scruff. "Can I sit?" He asks.

I roll my eyes, collapsing on to my bed before shuffling up to rest myself against my headboard, plate of pasta balanced on my boobs. "I don't expect you to stand." I grumble. He does sit beside me then, throwing me a fleeting glance as I continue to eat as though I've been starved all day long.

"Gosh, you're so attractive." He grimaces, watching me shovel another forkful of pasta into my mouth, no doubt my double chin on show. Rather that retort with a sarcastic quip, I instead run my finger across the plate, collecting tomato sauce as I go, and then smear it across Hendrix face. He rolls his eyes and licks his lips slightly. "You are so mature." He grumbles.

I can't help but laugh as I watch him struggle to wipe off the food across his face. I place my plate down on my nightstand, shuffling to sitting so that we're facing one another. "Here," I say. He drops his hand and looks at me dead-pan, only making me smirk.

"This is the second time you've smothered me in tomato sauce." He comments. I hum in agreement and grin, taking my thumb to wipe the food that's just above the corner of his mouth.

"Seems you're just always asking for it." I muse, licking the sauce from my thumb without even thinking. My eyes widen but Elijah doesn't notice, seemingly entranced by my mouth, from which still hangs my thumb.

"I can't help it." He says softly, his eyes flicking back to mine. We stay like that for what I'm sure is just a moment but feels like an eternity. He stares in my eyes as I stare back, only now noticing that in those oceans of green, there a subtle flecks of hazel, adding a depth of warmth that I never noticed before.

Speaking of warmth, I feel oddly hot. Perhaps it's because of how close Hendrix and I are, mere inches apart, actually. So close I can feel his breath. He can't feel mine, I don't think I am breathing.

That's all I need to pull me from my stupor, and I cough awkwardly, breaking our eye contact as I look down nervously, leaning back slightly to increase the distance between us. "Osborne –"

But he's interrupted when the door downstairs opens and slams shut, the sound of feet shuffling across the floor then quickly followed by the call of my name.

And I know that voice.