Tortured Hearts

After my incredibly unsuccessful trip to see Charlie and talk some sense into the irritating boy, I was now in an even bigger stupor about my life in general.
Ruth had tried to make us all lunch but whatever was in her pan looked like something an animal would bury.
“How about I order some pizza?” Evan stated, looking genuinely terrified of what she was now scraping into the bin.
“Oh shut up,” Ruth complained, “at least I try to cook in this place. I’m not saying I’m perfect at it.”
“Oh, we can see that alright,” Greg laughed and then quickly shut up when Ruth gave him a death glare.
“Pizza it is, then. I’ll go pick it up.” Evan took his jacket up from the seat next to me and left to get our lunch before Mark entered the room. He gave one glance to the stove, saw the mess that was there and then decided to just sit across from me.
“Pizza, then?” He asked me, his gaze mesmerising me for a second. There was something about his gaze that felt like he was looking straight into my soul… corny, I know. I even felt like I was beginning to gather a crush on Mark. Bad Alicia, always falling for guys that show you the smallest amount of kindness; or perhaps sympathy, in his case. At his questioning expression, I realised I was just sat staring at him without an answer to his question.
“Oh, yes,” I said, trying to quell my embarrassment by looking away from him.
“It’s a good job we’re having pizza. We have no plates, bowls or cutlery,” Ruth stated as she looked at the dishes piled up, ready to be washed. Everyone looked at one another, wondering who would take a hit for the team this time.
“I’ll do them after lunch,” I volunteered, needing the time it would give me to just think things over and re-evaluate what was going on with Charlie.
“Are you sure? You did them last time,” Greg stated, whilst still trying not to sound like he was volunteering.
“She volunteered.” Evan didn’t want to question it in case he had to do them.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I replied.
Mark, ever the quiet one, sat and just watched the conversation occur around him.
After lunch, the rest of the group went to do whatever they had planned before lunch whilst I started to run the water for the dishes. I watched as the small amount of washing-up liquid turned into hundreds of little bubbles, the water getting just hot enough to do the job. Something about doing a task so methodical made me relax and gave me greater clarity when I needed to think about problems.
Charlie wouldn’t speak to me about his problems, but he made it clear that I wasn’t the problem. At least not for why he’d been ignoring me. But he did seem genuinely surprised to find out Will had been cheating on me, especially since he believed so completely the opposite.
I felt someone take the glass I’d just washed out of my hand. I looked to my side and found Mark standing there, already beginning to dry. At my stopping, he looked to me and shrugged.
“Haven’t you got something else you’d rather do?” I asked as I came out of my frozen stance and started to wash up again.
“No,” he replied. “Do you think you’ll be able to bury your problems by doing mundane tasks?” Blunt, as always.
“Actually, I was hoping to get better clarity of my thoughts.” I concentrated on scrubbing the dishes clean, hoping he didn’t notice the feelings I was beginning to harbour for him. I told myself that even if he were blunt, at least he was honest with me all the time.
“How’s that working out for you?” He almost sounded scornful and I didn’t like that edge.
“I don’t know. Got any better ideas on how I can sort all this mess out?”
“Don’t.” I looked at him then, wondering what he was thinking. His blue eyes met mine and he added, “It’s not your mess to sort out.” I rolled my eyes but he continued to demand my eye contact. “I’m serious. Why do you beat yourself up over stuff that’s out of your control?”
“I’m not beating myself up,” I replied petulantly.
“Really?” he gave a short, humourless laugh. “So you like making yourself feel like shit. Or are you just playing the martyr in hopes that your ex will come grovelling at your feet and your best friend will turn up at your door with a huge explanation about why he’s been ignoring you.”
I opened my mouth to reply but found no words would come out. I swallowed the lump in my throat and felt anger rising up. How dare he tell me how to live my life? But he was right and I realised that with a rising sense of annoyance.
So I responded in the only way an intelligent person would. I splashed him with the soapy dishwater and soaked the front of the jacket he was wearing.
He appeared shocked at what I’d just done, clearly not expecting such a level of maturity from me. Then he started laughing, which was something that was totally out-of-character from Mark. His laughter set me off and we both stood there laughing whilst the dishes remained unwashed.
“So that’s how you like to play then,” he finally stated before splashing the dishwater back at me, soaking my top and leaving a wet patch on the front of my jeans. I opened my mouth to complain and then just laughed at the devious expression on his face.
“Ok, let’s just get these dishes done and then we can go out,” I said, still chuckling from our banter.
He nodded in agreement. Then we both finished the dishes with smiles on our faces, both trying not to snigger and set the other one off.

After we’d changed our wet clothes, we met up outside our halls. “Got any idea where we might go?” I asked.
“I think I know the perfect place,” he replied and took my hand into his. Although I was slightly startled by the intimate, almost romantic, touch, it wasn’t unwanted and I said nothing in protest. Mark’s hand in mine felt firm, as though he knew I wouldn’t mind the intimacy. I hoped it meant he had the same butterflies as me as we walked off to whatever destination he had planned, but I knew not to get my hopes up just in case.
Whatever it was that we were or weren’t both feeling, I sure as hell needed it. It was like the promising first moments of a new relationship and that excited me into forgetting almost everything about the pain I’d felt in the previous months. Even if Mark thought of me as just a friend, I trusted him enough to know I could feel for him what I was feeling and to not get hurt.

We ended up at a little fairground with rides and cotton candy flashing around everywhere. It was like I was in a dream world, taken into Mark’s warmth by the power of just believing.
“What do you think?” He asked, smiling as he turned to look at me. I smiled widely back and almost worried my face would crack since I hadn’t smiled like that since… well, it was time to forget about ‘since’.
“Where to first?” I replied. He kept a firm grip on my hand and took us through the crowds of people to find the biggest ride first.
“Have a little faith,” he said to me after he’d paid for us both. My expression gave away that the sight of the monster we’d be riding on shortly scared me.
When we got onto the ride I asked him “Keep hold of my hand?” and he smiled whilst grabbing onto it tightly.
“I promise not to let go.” I looked into his eyes and truly believed him, feeling my stomach flutter with every second he looked at me like that.