I swung my head around furtively making sure I was the only in the house. I breathed a sigh. Pablo was nearly always in my house, making it his sole purpose in life to invade my privacy and make me feel homicidal. Sundays were my only days of freedom: from him and the rest of my family. Two birds with one stone. My mother was visiting her friend and their five year olds were having a play date, like they did every Sunday, Dad was hanging out with the his boys like he did every Sunday and the boys, (Mark and Pablo), were at the skate park like they did every Sunday. (Well, actually, they did this everyday but on Sundays there was a higher concentration of it). And I was home, pampering myself like I did every Sunday. It was our weekly ritual. After mass, we would get home, change, and then wander off to our various activities. I had to wash my hair then straighten it. I had been religiously ironing out my hair for about seven years. It was relatively easy because my thick curly hair barely reached my chin. My hair wasn’t quite an afro but it’s thickness and (former) length had made it impossible to manage so I started straightening it but I refused to put chemical relaxer in it.

After I lingered in the bath for about two hours, I changed my clothes and put some moisturizer in my hair until I could be bothered to comb it at about five o’clock. I stuck in Moulin Rouge and curled up with some ice cream. About half way through as I looked down at my toes contemplating what colour to paint them, I felt the couch sink and I heard it let out a groan with added weight. Dear God, and any other deities, how could you do this to me! The day had been going so well but it had to be ruined by the early arrival of Pablo. Surely, Fate couldn’t have been so fickle, could she? I shut my eyes in hope that he would disappear but alas, Pablo was still there grinning impishly when I reopened my eyes. “Sinead, is that you?” I groaned. Pablo (surprisingly) knew nothing of my curly-headed days. “Yes, it’s me, you idiot,” I muttered snootily. “You’re hair looks really nice curly,” he said sincerely as he reached out to touch it. “I never realized,” he added. “What else haven’t I noticed about you?” he asked half to himself as he looked at me. He brought himself so close to my face that our noses were touching, and peered into my eyes. “Your eyes are brown, like chocolate,” he murmured and I could smell his bubblegum scented breath as he spoke. “I never noticed that either. You’d think I’d know more than that,” he said, chuckling softly. I opened my mouth to reply, then changed my mind, frowning. Why was he so concerned about what he knew about me? I opened my mouth to comment on it, but Pablo interrupted me. (Of course by this time he was a reasonable distance away from me). “I have, naturally, noticed your lips. They’re quite well formed you know-“ that was enough. Strangely fascinating though it may have been, it was disturbing and needed to stop. “What are you doing? First you sneak into my house, and then you start making comments that make me uncomfortable! Why are you here? Why aren’t you at the park with Mark? And why are you in my house on Sunday?” Pablo looked slightly shocked. I took this as a sign and continued. “Would you like it if I did it to you?” I failed to see the almost undetectable nod he gave me, or I wouldn’t have done what I did.

I sidled to his side of the couch. I examined his eyes, repeating what he had done to me. As I stared I realized that there were little flecks of gold in them. I smiled. “Your eyes have little gold specks in them,” I let him know, glancing down to count the freckles on his nose. “You have fifteen freckles on you nose,” I pulled away and gave him a once over. I had noted his hair before, envious of its soft dark curls, and his general physique did not go unappreciated. Ah, his hands. I picked up his left hand and found the nails mauled beyond recognition. I then grasped his right hand. On this one, the mails were clean and straight. I dropped his hand and paused to think. Oh yes, his tattoos.

“Take off your shirt,” I ordered. This time I didn’t miss his raised eyebrow and fervent nodding. I rolled my eyes and traced the design of the large dragon on his back. Its head curled on his right shoulder, the body slithering and getting smaller till it ended at the small of his back. I knew it was there (he had been wincing and complaining for ages) but I had never taken the time to examine it and I then realized what I had been missing. The Chinese dragon was so full of beautiful detail that I couldn’t help but gasp. The eyes were so expressive that I nearly got lost in them. The tail looked so real, I half expected it to be furry. “This must have taken you forever,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said chuckling softly. “Three days,” I handed him back the vest he had been wearing and sat on the couch. “You missed one,” Pablo told me faintly. “On my ankle,” I didn’t know about that one. I rolled down his sock to see yet another dragon, only this time it was in the infinity sign, eating its tail. “Dragon fetish, maybe?” I said laughing quietly. I was surprised when he responded with I soft “Yeah,” I shot him a confused look. He stuck out his tongue. I most definitely never noticed that that. On it was a tongue ring. As I looked attentively I realized the thin line around the orb wasn’t some arbitrary line, it was the sinuous body of a dragon and when I looked again, I saw a head that spat fire.

The scent of bubblegum filled my nostrils and it tempted me to taste it, so I did. When we pulled up for air, Pablo breathlessly asked me why I did it. I replied simply, “I just noticed what a smart move it would be to kiss you.”