"You’re impossible, you know?" I just can’t believe she showed Sophie that terribly clichéd movie. Sophie, who hasn’t even been in this world for forty-eight hours and who I’m pretty sure has no fucking idea about the main component of that flick.
"And still, you love me," Jules sings while walking past me and toward the bathroom.
"What the hell were you thinking? She’s probably traumatized for the rest of her life now."
In response, she gives me the middle finger, then closes the door behind her.
Great. Really fucking great.
I will never leave Sophie alone with her again.
Yes, I love Jules. I truly do. But she’s totally going to spoil Sophie. And that’s going to suck.
"I’ll come back tonight. We could go out for pizza or something," Jules suggests as she comes out of the bathroom some minutes later. By now, she is wide awake and has obviously planned the next attack on Sophie.
I take a deep drag from the cigarette I just lit before answering her. "Don’t you think you’re asking a little too much of her?"
Jules steps in front of me and places her fists on her hips. "What’s that supposed to mean, huh? Are you implying that I’m a bad influence?"
"When I think about it… yeah. That pretty much sums it up."
Grinning, I return her gaze until she tries to punch me. I dodge easily because I’ve already expected that, which only makes her angrier.
"Stop acting like an asshole. She had a great night. I’ve answered many of her questions, and none of it seemed too much for her." She turns away and walks to the dining table to get her bag before heading for the stairs. "Just ask her. I’m pretty sure she didn’t find it nearly as bad as you think."
When Sophie gets up four hours later, I’ve already worked out, taken care of the mess Jules and I ignored because of Sophie’s disappearance, and am now cleaning my Desert Eagle.
Somewhat hesitantly, she steps out of her room and stops at a proper distance. "Good morning."
"It’s already noon."
When I look up at her, she gasps in shock. "What happened to your face?"
"Nothing," I reply curtly, turning my gaze back to the disassembled weapon.
"You’re lying."
I grimace. "And you ask too many questions."
"So you’re not going to tell me?"
"No. Because it’s none of your damn business."
"But you’re hurt."
"So what? I’m fine, so… just stop asking what happened, okay?"
She’s quiet for a few seconds, but the silence doesn’t last long. "Why do you have a gun?"
Goddammit.
"You’re doing it again," I say resentfully before answering anyway. "For protection."
"Have you ever used it?"
"Not to shoot anyone, if that’s what you mean."
Again, a few seconds pass before she continues. "Will you show me how to shoot it?"
