The spoon clanged in the bottom of the bowl as he set it down in front of me.
“You have my favorite ice cream.” It was a statement more to me than him. It was a revelation that this one small truth about me—Deck knew about.
He picked up the container, took off the lid, ripped the plastic from the top then grabbed the scoop and started dishing ice cream into the bowl. Swirls of vanilla and strawberry lay in the bottom in three large balls. He pushed the bowl toward me.
“I’m making pasta. Eat your ice cream.”
I stared at him then the ice cream for several seconds then slid it to the other side of the counter and sat down on a bar stool.
I kept my head down while I ate, not sure why this was hitting me so hard. So what? Deck had known me for years, so he must have known. It wasn’t a big deal. The thing was—it was a big deal to me. Because not only did he know, but he made sure it was here for me after the shit went down. He knew it was my comfort food, and I needed comfort because what Deck was doing … keeping me on edge … not confronting me … trying to throw me off balance … It was working.
Deck’s bare feet padded across the ceramic tiles as he moved through the kitchen, completely at ease while I was silently freaking out. He told me I could never be Chaos when I was with Deck. I was the girl who fell in love with him. I was the woman who still loved him and one day it would be my destruction. Of course, he’d say that. The guy was guarded, mistrustful and his morals were questionable, but not once had he harmed me. Even the cutting he did once a year had been something he had refused to do at first. That was until he found out Tanner had done it to me that first time and the cuts had been pretty bad. After that, every year he met me on that day.
Deck’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You came home from school one day, dress stained with what looked like ketchup, and you had a French fry in your hair.” My spoon clinked into the bowl and I stared up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me; he was cutting up mushrooms and peppers on a cutting board with his back to me. “The pins from your hair had fallen out and it was all windblown and knotted.”
I used to be teased for being perfect all the time. Clothes always tidy and neat, hair tied back. I was the teacher’s pet, the girl who was quiet in class and always got an A. But, often, I’d come home crying because the bullies had done something to me.
I remembered the day Deck was talking about. A group of boys in my class waited for me to come out of the side door of the school. I always used the side door to avoid them, but they figured it out. As soon as the door opened and I saw them all standing watching me with big grins on their faces—I knew. It was too late, though. The bucket of slop came down on me from a window above. It was the cafeteria garbage, and I was covered in the remnants of the entire school’s leftover lunch. I took off crying, their laughter ringing in my ears as they chanted ‘Trashy Georgie’. It became my new nickname for the rest of the year. Even worse was that some people thought I was called that for another reason and so I was considered a slut, too.
When I did get home, I’d stood outside the house for several minutes, drying my eyes and cleaning myself off as much as possible. I was thankful at least we hadn’t had any gravy at lunch that day. I walked in the house and saw Deck sitting on the couch playing a shooting video game with Connor, and I nearly ran back out. I didn’t want him to see my blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.
“I knew you’d been crying the second you walked in the door. I also knew you were trying to hide it.” Deck threw the vegetables in the frying pan and they sizzled and hissed under the heat.
I didn’t want to talk about this.
“Connor saw it, too.” Yeah, but it had been Deck who’d nudged him in the shoulder and drew his attention away from the video game so he’d look at me. It took two seconds for Connor to reach me. He gave me a hug and quietly asked me what was wrong. I told him I tripped and fell with my lunch tray.
I knew he didn’t believe me, but he saw my pleading eyes and let it go. My brother was good at reading me and he knew if he pushed, I’d be a crying mess and I hated that.
Deck didn’t. No, he got up off the couch and stalked toward me as if he was the lion assessing his prey. When he stopped in front of me, he looked down at my dress, picked the French fry from my hair and met my eyes.
I think I fell in love with him right then. Actually, I knew I did. It was the way the warmth of his eyes penetrated me; it was as if he were wrapping me in his protective shield and nothing could get to me.
“You got me a bowl of strawberry ice cream.”
He nodded. “And you sat cross-legged on the chair at the kitchen table, trying to hide behind a curtain of hair. You had a smudge of something on your face just above your cheekbone.” I’d been mortified later when I’d gone in the washroom and seen what a mess I was … well, a mess to my standards, but the actual garbage hadn’t done much damage except to my emotional wellbeing. The worst part was Deck seeing me like that. “You shovelled in that ice cream so goddamn fast I swear you must have had brain freeze a million times over.”
I did. But I wanted to eat the ice cream as fast as I could and escape Deck’s scrutiny. Even from the other room, I saw him talking quietly to Connor, but his eyes never left me.
“What were you telling him?” I’d always wanted to know.
“That no fuckin’ way had you tripped, and if he didn’t kick the ass of whoever was bullying you, I would.”