The first evening.
The rest of that evening was, for the most part, uneventful. Frank carried on playing his music full blast (and as much as I hated to admit that there was anything good about the guy, I had to admit, he had a fucking good taste in music) and I put the few of my belongings away, hoping he wouldn't feel the need to look through my stuff. It was exactly the sort of thing I could imagine Frank doing.
Eventually, John called us down for dinner. Or, more to the point, he came up and yelled over Frank's music that dinner was ready. I grabbed a plate from the kitchen and followed Frank as he slouched into the lounge that was adjoining the kitchen. John was already collapsed on a sofa with a plate on his lap. My uncle was staring transfixed at the television screen. The Simpsons was on. Frank was sitting in an armchair in the corner, his plate resting on the coffee table in front of him, along with what looked like a Kerrang! magazine. He was intently reading the article, with a pair of massive headphones clamped over his ears. Apparently dinner wasn't a social affair in this house. I didn't mind though. It spared me the difficulty and the embarressment of having to make conversation with my Uncle and Frank. I collapsed down on the sofa next to John, and began to eat.
It was a vegetable pasta dish, since apparently Frank wouldn't eat meat. I found that a little strange. He found it amusing tormenting me, but refused to eat an animal? Mind you, I'd read somewhere Hitler was a vegetarian... I laughed out loud at that though - comparing Frank to Hitler. Ok, I didn't like the dude, but maybe Hitler was a bit extreme!
Frank glanced up at me when I laughed, one eye-browed raised. I ducked my head, blushing again. I heard him snigger at he. Anger boiled up inside me, as well as humiliation. I was pathetic. And what was more, I didn't want Frank to look down on me, and not just because I would be working, living and going to school with him as long as I was stuck here. I wanted him to like me. And not just like me, like me. I groaned internally. Why was I so fucked up? Why the hell did I have to find this midget who seemed determined to make my life uncomfortable as possible attractive?
When I glanced up again, I saw Frank sitting back in his chair. His pasta was finished and his eyes were boring into me. I swear the intensity was enough to create holes in my head. I blushed again (of course) but something about the intensity of his gaze made it impossible for me to look away. Butterflies began to flit round my stomach and I internally shuddered under the gaze of those captivating brown eyes. At the same time, something inside me was nagging, this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong...
The stare-down was only interrupted when John's bellowing laugh cut across the room. He was completely oblivious to what was happening between me and Frank. Which was... what exactly? I sighed and lowered my eyes. I could feel Frank's were still on me and I knew without even bothering to look that he was smirking again.
For the rest of the evening, I just sat on the sofa, watching TV and trying to keep my eyes and thoughts off Frank. It wasn't the easiest task in the world, but he didn't catch me looking at him again, which I was insanely grateful for. He just sat there, reading and texting someone on his phone., occasionally glancing at the TV when John laughed.
Eventually, my uncle announced we should go to bed, as we both had school tomorrow and had to get up early. I left without complaint, glancing at Frank as I did so. He was still texting, a small smile playing around his lips. It wasn't an evil or amused smirk though; it seemed happy. And I felt insanely jealous of who ever had the power to cause him this happiness, wishing I could make this gorgeous boy laugh with me, as opposed to at me.