Page 60 of Infinity Chronicles 1
“Pretty steady. What… what have you guys been up to?” I try for casual. Hoping to find out why they weren’t in school today. That’s a normal question right? Something a friend would ask?
“Dante had to work on some yearbook stuff, and Milo had football.” Ollie rolls his eyes. “I’ve been Ares’s bitch all day.” He leans his hip on the counter, his eyes on me expectantly.
Ares returns, nudging his way between Ollie and me. He sets the bag on the counter, removing the boxes inside. I scoot my stool a little closer to Dante, giving him more room. He opens each box, peering inside before finding what he’s looking for. Ares turns, boxes still in hand, and moves over near the dishwasher.
“That smells like lasagna,” Milo perks up, watching Ares move about the kitchen. My eyes track him too. He opens a cupboard and grabs a dish, then pulls open a drawer, placing a fork and knife on the edge of the plate. The room is silent as Ares moves to the fridge with a tall glass in hand. “Milk?” he calls out, spinning to face me. His brow furrows when he finds us all staring at him.
“Me?” I squeak when I realize he’s asking me if I want milk. My nose wrinkles. “Nooo. The only milk I drink is chocolate.”
“What would like?”
I lick my lips, the others are still silent. “Water is fine. Thank you,” I add at the end softly. When Ares’s back turns to us again, Ollie mouths the wordswhat the fuck,his eyes huge.
Pushing his way between Dante and me this time, Ares presents my lasagna and bread on a fine white plate, along with a tall glass of ice water. He watches me, his eyes running over my features, stopping on my lips.
“Thank you.” My voice comes out small, no one has served me or taken the time to make sure I eat in ages. Years ago, when my mom wasn’t so withdrawn, she would make us little dinners, but I took over that duty by the time I was eight. Ares turns to move and I reach out for his arm, stopping him in place. Meeting his eyes, I tell him, “No really. Thank you.” He leans down and places a gentle kiss on my temple, then he’s gone.
“Who was that?” Milo whispers once Ares has been gone a few seconds.
Feeling defensive, maybe even protective, I mumble, “I think it was very thoughtful.” I tug the plate closer while picking up the fork and knife, slicing into the thick layers of meat, cheese, and pasta. I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips as the first bite melts in my mouth.
Ollie clears his throat. “Remember to feed her,” he says, like he’s making a list of how to care for an animal. I want to glare at him, but my food is way too good for me to be bothered at the moment by his antics.
The guys start up quiet conversations around me, not really talking about anything important, just little things about school or their schedules. My eyes grow heavy as my belly fills, the fact that it also coincides with Ollie finding a way or reason the touch me almost the entire time isn’t lost on me, but I’m choosing to ignore it. I feel a closeness to him that I haven’t yet explored, but he feels safe in way that Ares never would.
Pushing my plate away still half-full, I let my palm cradle my cheek. My eyes land on Milo as he explains something to Dante, both of his hands move as he demonstrates some maneuver. His eyes are lit with interest, his words rushed with an edge of excitement. I like seeing this animated side of him, he’s been so moody and serious the past week so I never know what’s up or down with him. Milo bumps his shoulder into Dante, grinning about whatever he’s telling him. His smile is contagious. I grin, wondering what he’s like on the football field.
Dante’s head nods while he listens to his friend and my gaze is drawn to the wide leather cuff on his wrist. The black lines barely visible from beneath intrigue me. With Ollie’s heat pressed to my side, I lift my free hand up and the tip of my nail traces the outline on Dante’s wrist.
Dante’s head snaps around in my direction. His body going rigid, I freeze. It seems I’m having a hard time controlling my impulses as of late. Biting my lip, my eyes rise to meet his. “Can I see this?” Dante swallows, his eyes going a little wide. I snatch my hand back. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I feel like I need to see it. Do you know what I mean? It’s okay, I won’t ask again.”
I begin stepping down from the stool, but just as my feet touch the floor Dante places his arm behind me, cutting off my exit. “You can see it Laura, I just wasn’t expecting that. It’s okay, really.”
Feeling like I’ve violated some unwritten rule, I place my hand over his, which is working the leather strap free from the closure. “Seriously, you don’t need to if it’s private, like your girlfriend’s name or something. I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life.” I run my hand over my braid, pulling away from him. “I was just curious. I noticed it in art class a while ago, that’s all.”
“It is private, but not from you. It’s my identifier.” The band falls free from his wrist into his other hand and I get my first glimpse of the entire mark. My hand reaches out immediately to run along the edges, I stop just short of touching him. My eyes leap to his, the question of whether nor not I can dies on my lips when he extends his arm out to me. A look of anticipation on his face.
“Most marks are easily concealed, like ours,” Milo offers, coming to stand on the other side of Dante. He eyes are glue to where my fingers hover over Dante’s wrist. What felt like a compulsion now feels like I’ve put us both on the spot with the brush of Ollie against my back and the way Milo seems so interested.
My mouth suddenly dry, I lick my lips, letting my fingers brush over the mark. It’s smaller than Ares’s, but no less riveting. His skin is smooth, but I swear I get that same feeling of velvety fur under my fingers. Dante’s shoulders roll as his head goes back, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. I step closer, invading his space, and I want to run my nose up his neck and bury my face in his hair.
My fingers circle his wrist, not willing to release him, as my head falls to his chest with my ear over his heart. A rumbling flows from him, almost sounding like a low growl.
The clicking of heeled shoes echoes from an adjacent room. Ollie pulls me back from Dante, and my hand around his wrist is the last part of me to let go. Ollie steps away from me, going over to the fridge and pulling out a can of soda. I wrap my arms over my stomach; it’s obvious they don’t want whoever is coming to know what just happened. Dante turns from me, fumbling to replace the bracelet.
The same brunette from yesterday morning enters the room, the rhythm of her steps falter as she spots me. “Hello again.” Her eyes are shrewd as she looks me over.
Still standing I shuffle my feet. “Hello.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“We haven’t been introduced, I’m Mia.” She extends her hand out to me after making her way over.
Reaching out I take a hold of her hand, giving her a quick firm jerk of a handshake. Her eyes trace between mine as she inspects my features. “How long have you known the boys?” The barely there lilting accents softens her words.
“Not long.” I glance over at Dante and Milo, both of whom are facing away from me, not giving me any indication on how I should respond.
“You must be pretty close, you were here… yesterday afternoon, right?” Her question seems innocent, but I can feel the probing nature.
Ollie interrupts before I have to answer. He wraps his arm over Mia’s shoulder, much like he’s done to me several times, pulling her attention to him. “Ares hasn’t let you leave yet. He’s had you here all day.”
