Smitten Kitten

chapter seven

     AFTER THE ORDER is placed, despite all of Noel's weak protests, I'm grinning. 

     He's practically folded into himself, the exasperation on his face growing stronger the longer I look at him. It's been a couple minutes of this. Him obviously avoiding my stare, and of me obviously staring. There's this bizarre cognitive dissonance in his six-year-old temper tantrum and the sleek, black tie loose around his neck, and I can't help but laugh.

     "Why are you laughing?" he asks, eyes fixated on the screen.

     "Why do you always hang around here if you hate it so much?" I counter. Despite the mocking undertones, I can't help the curiosity itching under my words.

     He's more questions than answers, despite the fact that I'm clearly a joy to be around, but whatever.

    His expression softens just a smidgen. "Because Cleopatra's here."

    I tilt my head, and something inside of me warms at the change. "Yeah, but why don't you take her home? Instead of barging in here at all hours of the night. Unless, seeing me naked was your plan the entire time!" 

     When his gaze slides over to meet mine, narrowed and unimpressed, I'm beaming.

     "It's complicated," he admits with a sigh, threading a hand through his dark hair. "Cleopatra has to stay here. That's the way things have to be for now."

     The insatiable curiosity that always seems to get me into more trouble than I can get out of wants me to press him further, and for a moment I open my mouth to ask more, but then it's shut again. His closed-off expression tells me it's the end of that conversation, and for some inexplicable reason, I don't want him to leave just yet.

    I reassure myself it's only because he needs to be introduced into the wonderful world of Moo Shu pork. And not because I keep wondering how soft his hair really is.

    "Mysterious. If you were trying not to turn me on, try harder."

     He opens his mouth to rebuke, a telling pinch of his brows, but I cut him off with a swift lift to my feet.

     "All right, I'm putting you on Bachelor duty. I expect a full report when I come back. I'm serious here." I hold a threatening finger to further my point. "The importance is in the details."

     He bristles. "I'm not watching your garbage show or eating your garbage food."

     I shoot him a cheeky grin, grabbing my jacket from the chair I'd left it crumpled up on. "Keep an eye on Katrina, she's the crier."

     As the door almost closes shut, I hear Noel mutter some sort of response under his breath. A soft smile involuntarily curves on my face. A part of me realizes that I'm probably going to be scolded later for teasing him so much, and I have absolute faith this will get back to Natalya, but there's a little bounce in my too-quick steps back home, and I'm not entirely sure it's because of the food I'm carrying.

     Although the food does help. My wallet is crying a little bit- a lot a bit honestly, but I reassure myself that I'm being a good person, and therefore it's justified. I'm not doing this for myself, I'm doing this for Noel.

    So it's okay.

     And the extra wontons are also justified because they're extra wontons. They're always justified. Because they're wontons.

    A laugh that sounds suspiciously like a cackle escapes my lips when I step through the door, plastic bags brimming with a plethora of noodle-meat combinations in hand, and Noel's eyes widen to saucers.