Chapter 19
Kyle
The cafe is pretty dead when we get there, having left Callie and Sean to finish the last half an hour of the movie alone. Molly simply followed her nose around the corner of the cinema and found us a cafe within twoseconds of searching. I swear her and Callie both have coffee imprinted in their brains. I wish I could focus on Molly right now, her bright sunshine locks, her deep blue eyes and her killer body like I usually can, but my mind is wandering elsewhere. I keep imagining her being assaulted, someone dominating her in that way and stealing something from her that wasn’t their’s to take. It’s making me feel a rage like no other, the fire in my stomach lighting and blazing so strong I feel the need to unleash it somewhere, before it can burn me alive from the inside out. She’s so god damn strong, so resilient and I know she’s been through a ton of shit in her life. But I wish sometimes she’d just admit that she needs me, she needs someone secure in her life and I know I'm that person for her. She’s so fucking brave and the gratitude I feel for her sharing such a personal thing with me is making my heart grow wings, spreading the explosion of butterflies throughout my body.
As I watch her sipping at her coffee slowly, the grumbling of her stomach pulls my attention back to the present. Her chin is resting on her palm, eyes flitting across the table as her nail chips away at the dents in the wood. She hasn’t said much since the bathroom incident and I don't want to force her into conversation if she's not in the mood to talk to me. But I also can’t pretend the silence between us isn’t stretching me, causing me to become a knee bobbing, jaw scratching mess.
When her stomach rumbles for the second time I jump up from my seat and Molly’s eyes follow me. “Just going to get a, erm…muffin! Yeah, a muffin, do you want anything?”
Why the fuck am I stuttering right now? I shouldn’t be nervous, I haven’t done anything wrong and besides, she’s not mad at me…right? Molly’s lips flicker with a small smile that she tries to hide, noting my obvious nerves. “No thanks, I'm good.”
I nod and go up to the counter to order two muffins, my own stomach is yelling at me to feed it and I know Molly said she didn’t want anything but I also know she’s hungry. The echoing sounds of starvation coming from the cave of her stomach give away the depth of her hunger. When I sit back down opposite her and push a blueberry muffin across the table to land in front of her, she looks up at me with questioning eyes.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but your stomach is rumbling, so I got you a muffin.” I shrug, taking an obnoxiously large bite of my own muffin and chewing happily. The lining of my stomach immediately thanks me profusely for soothing it. I’ve almost finished my entire muffin in three bites, when I glance up at Molly who is back in her previous position. Her eyes are on the table, nails picking at the wood and the muffin in front of her untouched.
I gulp my last bite down. “Why are you not eating it?”
She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “Not hungry,”
“Yes, you are. Your belly has been rumbling since we got to the cinema almost two hours ago.”
Molly shakes her blonde head, twisting a loose curl around her pinky finger. “No really, I'm not hungry.”
“Molly,” I groan, raking a hand through my hair. “When did you last eat?” “I don't know,” she whispers, eyes landing anywhere but on mine as they search for her. “Yesterday,”
“Yesterday?” I gawk, pushing the muffin towards her again, more forcefully this time. “Eat that baby, please.”
She shakes her head, face falling and lips turning down into a frown. “I can’t.”
I can hear the welling of tears in her throat, the croaking desperation. I don't know if this is about the memories that were dragged up for her only an hour ago, or if this is about something else entirely. I pull her hand into mine and push her chin up with my thumb, forcing her to look at me. That’s when I see the moisture in her eyes, pooling and threatening to spill. “Why can’t you eat Mol? Tell me.” I plead, keeping my voice a quiet murmur to avoid any unwanted attention.
“I’ve put weight on recently and I need to lose it so I can qualify for regionals.”
“Sorry…what?” My jaw’s hanging now, eyes popping too as I look for any sign of humour in what she just said. She must be joking, there’s no way she thinks she's fat and needs to lose weight in order to qualify for regionals. Her stomach is so tight I can see the lines of her abs when she moves, her waist tapers in and curves out to a pair of slender hips and long, lean thighs. She’s a fucking masterpiece.
Molly ignores me and just continues to stare at the table, before I reach out and swallow her small hand in my huge one.
“Why on earth would you think you’ve gained weight?” I hiss, glancing over my shoulder to make sure nobody is listening.
“I just…have, so leave it at that Kyle.”
“No, I won’t fucking leave it at that.” I run a hand down my face and then it hits me. She wasn’t having these worries when I saw her last, which means someone has put this stupid fucking idea in her head. “Has someone said something to you?”
Silence.
“Molly. Tell me now, who said you’ve gained weight?” I squeeze her hand tighter in mine and she scratches her head, before huffing and giving in to me.
She flaps a hand through the air. “It was nothing, just, Harvey said something ab—”
I’m out of my seat before she can finish her sentence. I grab her phone from the table and fly out of the cafe door, into the icy wind as she calls after me. I scroll through her contacts and find his number, tapping it immediately and pressing the phone to my ear, waiting as it rings out.
He picks up after a moment, relief lacing his tone. “Oh, Mol, I'm so glad you called me, look about yesterday, I—”
“I’d shut that fucking mouth if I was you,” I growl, red hot lava crawling up my throat. “She told me what you said about her, and I just wanted to let you know that if you ever, say anything like that to her again,” I take a breath, the venom still heavy on my tongue. “if you ever make her cry again, I’ll pull your spine out through your throat.”
“I just, I-I…” he stutters and I cut him off again.
“Just a ‘yes Kyle’ will do Harley.”
“Actually my names Harv—”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
I hear him cough nervously before he whispers, “Yeah, ok,” and hangs up the phone.
I can already feel the flames start to simmer, the rush of anger I felt a moment ago calming a little, but my possessiveness is still burning bright. I head back into the cafe to a nonchalant looking Molly, who only raises an eyebrow at me, saying nothing.
“I told him to fuck off,” I mutter, grabbing her hand again and dropping a light kiss to the back of it.
Molly snickers. “Thanks, I smacked his face yesterday too, so I guess he’s had enough punishment now.”
My eyes spring up. “You…You smacked him?”
“Uh-huh, really hard, his poor little cheek was red hot afterwards.” She chuckles and I join her, pressing her warm palm against my face and letting her delicate laughter bring me back to earth.
I drop Molly home after another hour in the cafe together. Mostly consisting of me trying my best to steal as many kisses as I can, and her proceeding to rub my dick through my trousers. She’s left me with an unsatisfied boner, which she found totally hilarious as she wiggled her eyebrows at me and smacked a kiss to my neck, before shutting her front door in my face.
I shove my own front door open with a groan, cracking my neck and catching Sean's eye from across the kitchen.
He pushes off the counter top and sidles towards me. “So, where the fuck did you two go?”
I’m not telling him what happened in the bathroom, no way, that’s between me and Molly and I have no intention of sharing any of her private trauma with anyone else.
“We just, we went to a erm, cafe… after the, bathroom.”
“Yeah, ok man.” He titters, slinging an arm around my shoulder and hauling me into the dimly lit living room. It’s just the two of us right now and I can tell by the way his piercing eyes keep burning into the side of my face that he wants to say something. I wish he’d fucking spit it out. I turn to him, eyebrows crawling up my forehead. “Yes?”
He laughs and the dimples deepen in his face. “You like her, don’t you?” “Molly?” I say and he nods, “Yeah, she’s hot.”
And funny and smart and sassy and brave and honest and just fucking everything.
“No, I mean you really like her.” He grins, brows wiggling and I clamp my lips together to not give myself away. He’s obviously right. I really fucking like Molly, so much so that I'm starting to panic about the future and how the fuck I stop her from slipping through my fingers once she gets wind of my feelings. She’s told me before, her instinct is to run when guys fall for her and she doesn’t want to be in a relationship with anyone, including me. I wish that didn’t hurt as much as it does and I would be lying if I said it doesn’t fucking sting.
“Nah man, it’s just sex.” Liar.
Sean tilts a thick brow. “Huh, so why haven’t you got bored yet and fucked someone else?”
“Maybe I like having sex with Molly, and maybe she…she,” I catch Sean's disbelieving smirk and it breaks my wobbly denial in two. “Maybe she fucking owns me and I don’t even hate it like I should. I just I-I want to be around her all the time, even when we’re not having sex, is that weird?” My neck has broken out in a cold sweat and I rub at it anxiously as Sean fights against his triumphant, cocky grin. He watches my nervous ramble die down, before his face softens into a knowing expression and he gives my shoulder a pat.
“No, it’s not weird Ky, I was the same way with Callie,” he shrugs, smile tipping his lips as usual when he mentions her. “I still am.”
My hand finds the back of my neck again, shuffling beside Sean on the couch. “But you guys are like…in love, so it’s different.” It is different right? Please god tell me it’s different.
Sean’s dimples sink into his cheeks as his face lights up smugly. “Maybe it’s not different at all.”
“No, no, no,” I get up, pacing in front of Sean, hands sunk deep in my hair. “I’m not in love,” I point a finger at him, then drop it. “Can’t do that, won’t do that, absolutely not, no.” I stomp off up the stairs and slam the bedroom door behind me, sinking down to the ground and burying my face from the world.
“No, no, no, no…” I mutter to myself, head shaking incessantly, trying desperately to make what I know to be true, not true. But I can’t and I know I can’t.
Ping!
For fuck’s sake, not now, please god.
I know who that text is from before I even check my phone and when my screen lights up with the last twenty messages — the ones I’ve been purposefully ignoring — I let my face fall into my hands again.
Mum:
‘Ky, can you reply to me?’
Mum:
‘Kyle! Helloooo?’
Mum:
‘I just need ￡20 to get me through to the end of the week.’
Mum:
‘You always were a selfish shit, just like your grandad.’
“Fuck.” I slam my phone into the carpet and sink the heels of my palms deep into my eye sockets.
My mum has been texting me for days now and I haven’t responded even once to her. She gets like this when she’s in desperate need of a fix and has already spent her monthly benefit money on drugs. I used to send her money when she asked, the guilt tripping and begging would get to me, pulling at my heart strings and I'd convince myself she just needed to eat. But I’ve learnt my lesson the hard way too many times now, going home on a weekend to check on her and finding her passed out on the couch, lips white and body corpse like. I’ve always wondered when the day will come that I'll walk into that dingy old flat in North London and find her without a pulse, foam spewing from her lips and her body limp like a puppet. The day hasn’t come yet of course, but the clock is ticking.
I lock my phone screen and whip my clothes off, climbing into bed and breathing in the lingering smell of Molly’s pineapple scented shampoo that clings to my pillows.
I swear that girl is the only thing that keeps me sane.