13. So The Bad Boy Can Cook

It was actually hard to not notice, I mean it was a giant painting and the only thing that is colourful in here. It was a painting of a bird flying up toward a bright blue sky filled with noticeable gold stars instead of clouds. I painted it when i moved to here a year ago. It was a reminder of what happened and my vow to move on and be happy. I smiled as I read the quote at the bottom. The quote my fragile self wrote in desperation.

'Oh darling, spread your wings and soar into the blue sky. Reach the golden stars that are waiting for you and never head down. -L´

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice made me startled. I whipped my head to Amir focusing his gaze on the painting.

My painting.

His tight white shirt made him look like a giant as his muscles ticking under it.

“Y_Yes..” I’m not used to compliment my own work. It’s just weird. “Who is the artist?” just checking if he knows something or not.

He shook his head. “No idea, just a letter,L. I guess he doesn’t want to be found. But I would love to meet him one day.”

I blushed. I haven’t met a real life fans and I would never thought that it would be Amir of all the people.

“Yeah… he’s good.”

“Freshen up and come downstairs. I made breakfast.” he stood up and turned around about to go but stopped when I asked. “Why am I in your room, again?” I was still sitting on the bed.

He faced me with brow high. “Are you kidding? Your room was locked and I had nowhere else to put you but here. Why is your room locked anyway?”

“Oh.” I looked away from him not wanting to explain myself.

He sighed “Let’s talk later, now go and…. do something about yourself.” he made a gesture toward me and left.

What was wrong about me?

Looking around the room I realised that there is nothing here that screams Amir's room. No personal photos nor items whatsoever. But his bed is the most softest beds I've ever slept on.

It took all my strength not to go back to sleep. I dragged myself to my room and unlocked the door with the key that was in my pocket.

The mess of my room greeted me as soon as I entered. My bed was in chaos, my painting unfinished with colours splattered on the table.

I sighed, I'll clean later. Now I have school to go to. I checked the time only to find it 6:25am. Why did I wake up so early? And why is Amir up now? Did he even sleep? I mean I took his bed. My face heated up. What if he slept beside me?!

He couldn't have done it, could he?

I shoved the thought back in a box walking toward the bathroom. I got startled when I faced the mirror. Somehow my face scares me more than anything these days. I'm starting to lose my confidence.

I took a 5min shower and got ready to go downstairs. I went the kitchen, the smell of pancakes guiding me there.

Amir was preparing plates for both of us, his back muscles was ticking and shifting with movement. I felt my cheeks warming up as I remembered yesterday.

He saved me from those guys. My stomach grumbled bringing me back to reality. I don't remember the last time I ate something decent.

I whistled "so the bad boy can cook."

"He need to survive somehow, besides I can see that I'm better than you at cooking." He smirked took a seat on the dinner table as I did in front of him. I snorted, "As if." Honestly I wasn't bad at cooking just not good.

"Did your mother taught you how to cook?" I asked shoved a whole pancake into my mouth, not caring about how I looked.

His face fell with his smirk. "No, it was only me and dad for years. She passed away." I froze and looked up to his face, shock visible on mine.

"May Allah have mercy on her." I said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't know."

He shook his head "You couldn't have."

Actually I could, Lucas was so close telling me before he stopped himself but I didn't say that out loud.

My heart ached for him, couldn't think of how much he missed her. The air stilled but that did not stop Amir from eating his breakfast. Casually. Like he didn't just tell me bad news.

"Thank you." I started. He met my eyes in confusion. "For yesterday, you could have left me there for all you care."

He eyes wrinkled with amusement "I could not leave my miserable wife now, could I?"

I snarled "I take back my gratitude. Clearly you don't deserve it." I went back to my dashing pancakes before I dug in.

"About yesterday, are you okay?" He spoke up and all the memories of my brother beating up a guy already down turned my stomach and all food I just consumed.

"You knew and you did not tell me." I said.

"I swore I wouldn't."

"You do that kind of thing too?"

"Boxing isn't really in my interest." He replied.

"You said you were a professional one." I pressed, for once eager to know more about him wanting to confirm I am not just living with an abuser. Like Khaled.

"I never said I boxed in an underground ring." His voice was still calm surprising me because I expected him to get offended of my accusations.

I fell silent my head feeling heavy.

"Why does my brother even fight?"

His face expression was unreadable.

" Why don't you ask him yourself?" He said and the doorbell rang.

Shocked my eyes widened at two things. First it was the first time I heard the doorbell and it was actually a nice sound. And two, who on earth knows our adress?! The girls knows that they can't come here so who is behind that door.

I strolled to the door and opened it. I froze.

_____________

Who do you guys think is behind the door?!

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Later beauties ❤