How the Marigold Lost It's Sun: Ch 4

"Alexander?" I blurted out, trying not to think of how black was his color. My stomach rumbled again as my cake belly swelled ominously beneath my dress. He smiled. 

"Yeah, Mari?" He smirked, surveying my dress. Why had I eaten a ginormous cake, why oh why?!?

"W-won't you step inside?" I asked, trying to maintain some dignity as he nodded and followed me inside the living room. 

Uh-oh. 

The Kavanagh living room is a strange structure, halfway between compact and elegant. Most of the living room is occupied by an ornate, but medium sized dining table and its 6 chairs. Then we have that huge mirrored console on which you could see thousands and thousands of little glass people and animals, framed photographs of family and friends, and a stack of dusty albums, the topmost of which happens to be my baby album which is paraded around whenever someone visits. The remaining half of the living room is occupied by our wall mounted flat screen, a white coffee table and the couches. 

The couches were problematic from the moment we bought them. Of course, at first my mother didn't even consider that they were white because the couches, with their gold colored embellishments were elegant, and occupied little space, much to dad's pleasure. After we came home, and the thrill of having bought new couches passed, mom suddenly realized.

The couches were white.

So began the adventures of scrubbing them down whenever there was a prospect of a visitor coming over. People suggested getting the fabric changed, but mom was not to part with her elegant embellishments. So she put up with that until she stopped caring 6 months ago, when she saw her best friend's couches with blue finger paint smeared over them.

However, this was not the only problem. You see, they were also small. We had a total of 3 love seats arranged around the television. Two of which were occupied by the Kanes and my parents, deep in conversation, and the other, by a solitary Kane. 

I steeled myself and went over to sit near him. He had an incredibly intoxicating perfume. He also smelled like soap and shaving gel, like, well, a man. I tried not to swoon as I noticed him surveying my dress once more, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

I looked back at him, and he grinned.

"I was trying to tell you I'd be seeing you, but you didn't listen to me, Raisin."

RAISIN! Had he called me a raisin? Gosh darn my parents and their stupid girl names book.

"My name is Roisin." I breathed, trying my best not to slap him in the face. 

"Fine, Raisin," he snickered "Anyways, want me to continue with what I was telling you earlier today?"

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks, flooding them with color. 

"Here?" I blurted in shock. He positively beamed. 

"Not necessarily." He said and pulled out his phone, refusing to focus on me for more than two seconds when I poked him. 

I spent the rest of the evening wondering what he meant as I conversed with his parents who seemed to know quite a bit about me. Had he told them? Probably not, it was probably my parents, or so I hoped. 

After a while, my bun started to hurt my head and I left the room to put my bun down and brush my hair. When I came back, plates were set out with spring rolls, muffins and mini tarts surrounding them. 

"Oh, Marigold, here you are. Could you go over to Target and grab a few bottles of drinks? We forgot to buy them on the way."

I nodded and walked over to the door.

"Hold on, Mrs. Kavanagh. It's late. I think I should go out with her." Alexander said, standing up and straightening his tie. That tie. I wanted to do things to it.

Like take it off. 

I shook my head. This was still a trick.

My father, on the other hand was nodding. 

"Alright, Lex. Here's a 10, get ice-cream or something for yourselves on the way back." 

Ice-cream. I was surprised I wasn't vomiting already. I sighed and waited for him at the door, then walked a few steps ahead of him.

"Hey, Marigold?" He ventured.

"Yeah?" I asked, glancing back at him. He caught up to me. 

"Do you really think I'm playing with you?"

"Yep." Monosyllabic replies helped me not to make gushy noises.

"Why?"

"For starters, you showed up at my door with people who'd been tormenting me all summer."

"Well, I thought that was a great way to get your attention. I did send them away."

"Yeah right."

"Ma-rigold..." 

The way he said my name. Like a prayer. Like something so holy and beautiful, almost too good to be spoken by mere mortals. I shuddered.

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry. I should have thought better." 

"You should have." 

I quickened my pace once more, but he grabbed my hand. MY HAND! Millions of nerve endings rushed to action and my hand tingled and throbbed amazingly. I couldn't pull away.

"What ar-.." I tried to ask, but he interrupted me. 

"Marigold, I've had my eyes on you since the start of tenth grade. We were in different classes mostly, you took social sciences mostly, and I took the sciences. But I saw you even though you didn't see me. I was so amazed by how beautiful you were, by how you carried yourself, your talents, how confident you were. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't. I didn't even go for the plethora of girls pushing their phone numbers through my locker. I wanted, no, needed you. I still do." he whispered, anguished and twitchy, not even looking into my eyes, but gripping my hand tightly.

I tried once more to be angry and confused, but all my common sense had been swept to the back of my mind. the empty recesses of my mind echoed;

"Need you... Need you... Need you..."

I couldn't even get a coherent reply out, just a choked, shaky gasp. 

He finally looked up at me, with eyes so desperate and almost ashamed that I gripped back at his hand. He beamed at me with a toothy smile.He had a slight gap between his front teeth.

"Marigold. Be mine. I realize this isn't a very nice place to ask you, I mean, we're standing under a streetlight at night, but I have to know. I know I seem suspicious and, well, like a jerk to you, and I'm sorry, but please, just please overlook it..."

I stared back at him. Mockery be damned, I'd take it for the briefest company of this guy. Maybe, just maybe, he might not even be lying to me.

I nodded and he took me into his arms. I couldn't even suck my receding cake belly in as I breathed him in and clung to his chest.

Then we went over to the market, hand in hand, and back home with drinks and lemon flavored ice lollies, our favourite.