Indiana, Invincible; Chapter 12, Part 1

by Maryam in A Land Of Desert And Sun

I’m chickening out.

I really am.

I sigh to myself, my feet starting to slow, and begin dragging them on the road that is slanting sharply upwards. It’s been giving me a workout so far (Rheston’s house is further up the road than ours; also, as it’s situated on a mountain, the going is much steeper) and I need a rest, especially with this brownie glass container in my hands.

I really do stop this time, and my arms lengthen and droop until they’re stretched all the way down. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head upwards until my face is directly towards the sky, and, when I feel soft light on my eyelids, I open them.

It’s really a beautiful day. Beautiful weather. Soft, you could call it, cloudy – the world’s bathed in gentle white light you can open your eyes in. It’s gorgeously cool, too, and a breeze rushes through my hair, making me smile to myself and lean back further, for the shortest second.

Then, I have to grab the glass with the brownies in it and hold it closer – I’m in danger of dropping it, with relaxation as the culprit. I grin again to myself as I think of the glass rolling down, down, the slope, and banging the –

I stiffen again. That’s not what I need to be thinking about at the moment, and I know it.

Just to spend some time, I hoist the container further up, and give it a firmer grip. I begin walking up again, thinking all the while.

I need to get this to Rheston before I chicken out completely. Just thrust it out at him, say something about how I’m sorry, but I didn’t really…

I stop.

What am I going to tell him?

Oh, Lord. A further complication.

I roll my eyes to myself and begin hiking up again.

All right, I’m here.

Stretching out my hand hesitatingly, I then toughen my resolve and yank firmly on the bell pull right next to the door.

Right. What’s done is done. All I need to do now is just wait for whoever it is to come answer the door. If it’s not Rheston, I’ll just tell his mother or whoever to give this to him and explain my sincere apology –

What am I saying?

I need to speak with him myself. He’ll think – I shudder, sure of it – he’ll think, if he just receives a whole glass container of brownies by itself with a vague recollection from his mother or something – that I LIKE him.

God forbid.

So I’ll need to talk to him myself.

I nod once more to myself firmly, and then turn to the door –

Which still hasn’t opened. Which is weird.

My eyebrows are drawn together curiously, and I pull on the velvet rope again wonderingly, hesitantly, then again harder.

I listen carefully. There’s no sound at all, and I roll my eyes heatedly to myself. Of all the most ridiculous props, a bell pull! For heaven’s sake!

I tug on it once more just for spite, my hand lingering on it as I look around for a button to push –

‘That doesn’t actually work, you know.’

I pause.

That voice, smug, sure of itself, somewhat curious –

I know it before I turn.

It’s Liam Rheston.

Why, speak of the devil.