Chapter 16 - "Made For Each Other,"

I hate this tension.

This awkwardness.

And I hate myself for hating it.

Alarice, she-who-has-an-ever-present-grin-on-her-face, has not smiled at me.

At all.

It's been two frigging days.

That also reminds me of the most delicious home-cooked lasagna I've ever had.

I'd come to accept that this girl is awesome, but now I'm starting to think that she excels at everything.

Just remembering that dinner she'd made, before I'd opened my big mouth and ruined the evening by saying something, has my mouth watering. And speaking of the even more mouthwatering chef—

"Hey, Anders." I look up from my drawing to see the, ahem, chef herself leaning against the door frame wearing the same shade of jeans and the exact similar copy of my green shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. No surprise there, I've gotten used to this twin-dressing strategy she's been keeping up, no matter how weird it is, "Kade was thinking that we should all play soccer. You know, since you're a running back in the team."

"Oh."

"Yeah,"

"Wait," I close my notepad and stand up, confused, "How did you know that I was in the team?"

I certainly don't recall telling her.

"Um," Her cheeks stain a light shade of pink as she averts her gaze, fidgeting uncharacteristically, "Let's just say I did a little background check on you before kidnapping you," She looks down, her long curls falling onto her face, hiding it as she continues to fidget, pulling at the hem of her shirt nervously.

Oh. 'Little' must be a subjective term in her vocabulary.

I should've known.

And the mention of the "kidnapping" is a jarring reminder of why I should stop beating myself up over something I don't know for sure I did, or trying to make things alright when I don't know the root of the problem.

"Okay." I accept, throwing my pencil over the book, "Where to?"

She looks up at me finally, hope shining evidently in her expressive honey eyes as a small smile cracks her face. "Follow me."

"Whoa."

We're in backyard of the mansion, and it's suffice to say there's ample space for playing a game. The surprising thing is, when she'd said soccer, I'd expected a handful of people throwing around a ball. Not an actual group big enough to have two real teams.

Nice.

"Um, Koy and her boyfriend are over there." Alarice whispers as she leans close to me, her breath a cool gust on my neck that sends a shiver straight to the south.

Ahem, down boy.

"Oh," I mumble in daze, looking vaguely at the direction she's pointing to find a petite Dominican looking girl with reddish-brown, russet hair and a tall blond guy, who looks like he spends every waking minute in a gym. Both of them are dressed in shorts and tee shirts, completing the look with Nikes.

Hm, this doesn't seem like a sudden plan.

They're standing close to each other, lost in conversation, which now looks to me like they're plotting for the soccer match.

You're becoming more and more paranoid by the minute, Anders.

"C'mon. Lemme introduce you to them."

"Uh," Alarice grabs my arm, shocking me with the sudden contact, which she uses to her advantage as drags me in their direction without waiting for a reply, and I give in, not seeing a point in complaining and this whole façade is based on these two.

My only fear is them finding out that this really is a façade.

"Hey!" Alarice calls loudly, gaining their attention as we near them. The girl, Koy, turns around with a huge smile for Alarice, and if she hadn't already told me that these two were nemeses in the middle of a wedding battle, I would've thought that they were best friends. She seems so genuine to me.

"Long time, no see." Koy says by way of greeting, pulling Alarice into a half-hug. Alarice smiles back just as happily, and the entire situation just seems even more weird to me.

Great.

Reading too much into things again.

"Hello, Koy, Dustin." She nods at the built guy, "This is my fiancé, Anders Larzelere. Anders, this is my best friend Koy Riley, and her fiancé, Dustin Holloway."

I find it weird that they act so nice face-to-face, but secretly hate each other.

Girls are weird.

"Hi," I nod at both of them, forcing a smile just as wide as Alarice's, "Very pleased to meet you," I extend my hand for a shake, feeling that it's the safest option instead of a hug, which is the only alternative.

They shake my hands with a smile, the built Dustin surprising me with his kind gray eyes. For a guy his size, he sure gives the impression of being very warm and soft.

"We've heard so much about you!" Koy exclaims, bouncing excitedly. "Alarice is just so smitten. All speaks is Anders this, Anders that." She squeals, gesturing her hands wildly and grinning so wide, which makes Dustin chuckle at his fiancée in amusement.

I blush instantly at that, despite knowing Alarice was doing all this only to show Koy that she had a fiancé too. My brain knows that it was all just an act, but my stupid heart refuses to accept reality, taking that as a compliment, feeling even more guilty for putting this space between Alarice and me.

Literally and figuratively.

Instinctively I close the gap, wrapping my arm around her waist as I pull Alarice to my side, planting a kiss on the side of her neck. She giggles at the sudden action, swatting me away playfully, "Well," I start, looking down at this beautiful girl in my arm, "With the way she consumes my thoughts 24/7, I'd only be hurt if you tell me she isn't smitten as well."

Alarice blushes prettily at that, tightening her arm around me as she looks away bashfully.

I grin.

"Aw!" Koy coos, beaming like a cheshire cat, "You two are just made for each other! Just perfect!"

"Shut up, Koy! You'll scare him away." Alarice murmurs, smiling one last time as she drags me to the opposite side of the field, where apparently our team was waiting.

I exhale in relief, thankful that this fight or whatever between us is finally over.

Now, I'm in the mood for some ass-kicking.

~ * ~

After a brutal game of soccer — man, these people take a friendly match way too seriously, we successfully win the match 28 - 21.

But frankly, and I'm gonna be absolutely frank here, in all my years of playing soccer, ten years informally as a kid and two years in the college team, I can safely say one thing.

None of the teams I've met before come close to this bunch. It's like they just know what's on the other person's mind, and before the person is ready to throw the ball, a hand is ready to catch it. They come leaping out of nowhere, with grace that rival's any wild animal's, and energy in the air was just sizzling.

The co-ordination was so practiced and was too freakin' perfect, I'm surprised none of them have been recruited by the frigging NFL already.

I wouldn't be surprised if there were some minor league players hidden in these teams, anonymously playing a game of fun soccer.

Or some big time players too.

I shake my head in disbelief as both the teams mingle after the match, hugging and laughing like minutes before, they were't looking at each other like they were out for blood.

"So, you enjoyed it?" Alarice questions with a simper, her dimples making an appearance as she sidles up to me with a cold bottle of water as an offering.

"Heck, yes." I grab the bottle, twisting the lid to take a few greedy gulps of the cold liquid, "I just wish you'd warned me that your friends are NFL players though," I tease, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I offer the half-empty bottle back to her.

"Oh, don't let them hear you said that, they have a big enough ego already." She rolls her eyes affectionately, a serene look washing over her face as she surveys the yard, where now the house-helps are bringing out trays of food, passing out drinks and other refreshments.

"Are all of them your friends?" I ask.

Curiosity is an evil bitch, and I just can't seem to get a handle on her when it comes to Alarice DeVega.

"I wouldn't classify everyone as friends," Alarice replies as she continues to observe the people, "But we've all grown up together, sharing a bond our parents instilled in us. You see, around here it's all about being united and one." She turns to meet my inquisitive gaze finally, looking undeniably proud.

She should be. In a world where cheating and stomping over people to get what you want is all that happens, they've undoubtedly managed a huge feat by getting to where they are now.

"What is this place? I mean, it's all woodsy and stuff with trees everywhere, and even though there are houses and shops and everything, it seems so . . . " I stop, unable to find the right words, "So different," I settle, shrugging, "Like, it's a community or something. It doesn't look like a regular small town at all." I finish, realizing just then how lame and ignorant my analogy sounds.

To sum up my ramblings, it sounded like I'm complaining that their town is different from mine, like I expect and have this stereotypical view of small towns.

I cringe, expecting her to look like I'm crazy.

To my surprise, she doesn't.

She looks more . . . hesitant?

"Yes," She responds after a few moments of brain-numbing silence, putting me out of my misery, "We're actually kind of a community. We still belong to the town of Oakhill, but we've . . . claimed this part of it, separating ourselves from the other half. It was because of some moral dispute between my great-great-great grandad and some other political leader about their different views on ruling people. Eventually, they agreed to settle it by keeping away from them and remaining in peace."

"Oh."

It all looks very monarchy-ish to me.

"We still have a sort of a monarchy thing going on. My Dad's the current leader." She explains in an after-thought, looking at me carefully, almost as if she's gauging my reaction.

As expected. That would explain all the bowing and the dramatic bullshit when her Dad made an appearance the other day.

"So would that mean that you'll be next in line?" I ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

It backfires.

Badly.

Because she says, "Yes," with a sombre face. In a world where people don't even remember the concept of kings, and Presidents and Prime Ministers are leading the path to a democratic world, she expects me to take some village-leader stuff seriously?

Wait, she does.

God, no. Is this chick utterly crazy?

"Um, okay." I say awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

She sighs resignedly, almost as if she's giving up. My brows knit in confusion as she shakes her head, gives me a sad smile, and extends her hand, palm up, in invitation. "Come with me. I'll flip some burgers for you,"

She looks so morose at my reaction, I can't even muster up the enthusiasm for good burgers as i thread my fingers with hers, taking solace in the contact.

I have the worst case of mouth-in-foot syndrome.

Looks like no one can save me from myself.

~*~

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I know this chapter was kinda serious, but not all chapters can be rainbows and sunshine. sorry, guys.

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