Eliza

Well, there it is. Now was his chance, his only chance to tell me how he feels about me. To tell me that he didn't want me to go out with Cooper, that he doesn't want me to be with Cooper, because he wants me. All I had been hoping for has just come crashing down in front of me, and now I have to accept the fact that it was all just a big mistake. He can't tell me he likes me. He can't tell me he wants me. He can't even tell me he's sorry for all the discourtesy he's regarded me with. All I can feel in this moment is seething rage, and all I can hear is the sound of fire erupting out of my ears. So much so that I completely miss the sound of the doorbell.

It is only when I hear the sound of Cooper's voice saying my name, that my vision becomes clear. I finally look up to see Theo standing beside the door, and Cooper on the doorstep.

"Oh, hey," I breathe, walking into the direction of the door, giving a goading eye to Theo in the process.

"There's some leftovers from last night in the fridge," I say, turning back around to Theo. "Don't wait up," I add, hoping that it would instil some sort of jealousy in him. But, then I remember that he doesn't care. The settled look on his face confirms this for me. The air brushes violently against the sole of my feet, as Theo slams the door the moment my right foot is out of the door.

"Casual, Eliza?" Cooper speaks, eyeing my outfit from bottom to top.

"Come on, Coop. You know this is my casual."

"Touché," he says, as his lips gently brush against mine.

Theo

I slam my forehead against the wall near the front door, routinely punching it lightly enough to not cause any damage, but forceful enough to ensure the pain it causes doesn't sway away easily.

Fire erupts from my veins as I deliberate on the opportunity I just foolishly lost out on. It didn't hit me at the time - my mind was in a numb state of anomie from the moment she told me she was going on a date. That was enough to burn a dent into my soul, but to find out that it is with Mr Hair Grease genuinely makes me feel physical pain. I compose myself together to take my sorrow party upstairs, but I go as far as the fridge, in which I repeat my recent outburst of head slamming, fist pumping activity.

My head shoots up an in instant the moment I hear the clicking of some keys, and then the front door shut.

"What are you doing?" That voice battles in into my ear.

"Nothing. Going upstairs," I reply monotonously. I hope to make it up without hearing another one of her distasteful comments towards me, but my hopeful nature proves to be against me.

"Smart move you made with my bracelet. You know, putting it under the pillow and everything," the voice speaks again.

I feel pins digging into my back, but I still manage to turn around in less than a second.

"Oh believe me, if I was to actually be stupid enough to steal something that belongs to you, I would find an unreachable hiding place. It wasn't me."

"Oh, I believe that you have experience in stealing things and hiding them in smart places."

"So why do you think it's me?"

"I don't. In fact, I know it's not you."

"What? What changed your mind?"

"Nothing. I knew it wasn't you in the first place."

"So why would you-" I stop once I realise a menacing smile creep upon her face. "You," I grumble. The smile remains fixated on it, and even manages to become wider. "You bitch," I howl, charging towards her, not quite sure what my next action is going to be, but the cowardly act of hitting any female has been a non-factor in my life for as long as I've had a brain.

"Oop, careful now. You don't want to be sent back onto the streets now, do you?"

"Why would you do that? Why would you frame me?" My voice echoes through the ceiling.

"It's simple. You are trash, and Eliza doesn't see that. But she will. Right now, she sees a helpless little soul, but she will see who you really are soon."

"You can't do that. I've done nothing to you."

"I don't care. You're a germ to this house, and you will be gone sooner than you can even say 'sir, please spare me some change." She sings her words, and I feel an intense furore happening in my mind.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell her it's you."

"And how long have you known her? Four days? I've known her since the moment she was just an egg in my stomach. Now, compare the statistics, who do you really think she's going to believe?"

I pause, feeling caught up in the truth of her words. I feel to just take the easy option and walk out now, before things get any worse. But the competitive nature and winning streak I've always bore - although I lost it at one point - comes boiling back into my blood; and I am faced with the hard fact that I cannot let her win.

"I won't let you win," I repeat my thoughts out loud.

"I will drive you out of this house, Theo. And so will Eliza once she realises you're nothing more than a nuisance to this household. I can promise you that. Careful now, don't go tripping on all the harsh words I'm sure you've got lined up."

"Bitch," I mumble with the utmost force, before I proceed up the stairs, knowing my anger is intensifying every second.

"Only to those who deserve it," I hear her shout after me, but I am already at the top of the stairs. I search for an object in the bedroom that can be brutally attacked without it breaking, and I downheartedly settle on one of the pillows. I stand above it, and ensure the connection between my fist and it is immensely strong, as I release the suppressed anger that threatens every organ in my body.

My mind recalls on the words from Rosanne's mouth that stuck to me: Eliza has known her mother for almost two centuries, as opposed to the few days we've known each other. But, she can put enough trust in me, someone she has just met - and living on the street at that - to take up residency in her house, despite her mother's obvious condemnation of the idea. I think to myself that it must mean she has some trust in me, but that thought is soon dissembled once I remember just how quick she was to believe I'm the one that took her mother's bracelet. I ponder telling her as soon as she gets back, maybe if it comes directly from me, she would have no choice but to believe me. Why would I lie about it? Yet, the fear that when Rosanne is brought into that information, she will do something much worse to turn Eliza more against me than she already is outweighs my desperate need to inform her of this.

I lose the will to continue fighting the pillow, and my restless body slumps against the bed onto the floor, as I dwell over my unjustifiable stupidity.

She asked me if I had a problem with her and Mr Grease Hair. All I had to do was say yes. All I had to do was tell her that I want her. That I want to be the one taking her on dates, despite the fact that I have no idea where I would take her, or how I would pay for it. All I had to do was tell her the truth - that ever since the moment I looked into her eyes that day, and even more so when we kissed, her light brown eyes have corrupted my mind every single day, and have been the reoccurring source of every single dream I have had here. At first, I may have tried to repel against them but the hold they have on me is too strong, so strong that I feel that I have lost control over every single one of my senses, they all pertain to her. Every time I am face to face with her beauty - that could make the entire Earth stop still - I feel myself slipping into a helpless wobbly dessert. Whenever the constant consistent smell of flowers mixed with coconuts caresses my nose, or I remember the moment when our lips rubbed against each other, and I tasted the sweet plum of her lips, or I delve into the fact that the only time she speaks to me now is to reprimand me in some form, it makes it all worth it just to be near her.

It's the deepest I've ever felt for anybody, maybe because of the inconsolable fact that a relationship between the two of us, especially now, has less chance of working than money actually growing on trees. But that's what makes it all the more hard; they say you always want what you can't get. But what if the one thing I want is the only thing I see as an equivalent to an improved life for me? What then?

Eliza

"I'm sure I can feel all the liquid in my eyes draining," I claim, as the sound of the engine roars through.

"Eliza, the blindfold is not even that tight," Cooper replies, as I pray we reach our destination soon so I can see what this date consists of.

"Are we almost there?"

"Yep. In fact, we are there."

"Well then, can you take this stupid thing off?"

"Hold on," he sings, as I hear him pull the brakes. The car comes to a halt, and I soon feel his arms attempting to untie the bandana that has prohibited me from seeing anything in the last 15 minutes.

The first thing my eyes pick up on is the familiar car park that he brought me to on our first date. It was this particular game of bowling that made me fall in love with it, there was a sort of relaxing competitiveness between the two of us while we played that I yearned to to do that for all of our dates.

"Do you see what I did there?" He asks, as I realise he has noticed the heart-warming smile that has become my face.

"Is this your special ruse to get me to fall in love with you all over again?" I joke, although there is more truth behind those words than I think.

"Oh don't worry, I know you don't need to fall in love with me all over again. You've got enough love for me to last you a lifetime." I playfully smack his arm gently, and we both erupt into a harmonised laughter. But, his words stick viciously to my brain. If only he knew.

"Wait there," he says, as he opens his door and gets out of the car. I know what is coming, but I feel a fresh overwhelming sense of appreciation once the door to the passenger seat opens, with Cooper standing behind it. It is the type of thing that makes me desperate to believe that Cooper is the right one for me - his courtesy and complete regard to chivalry is enough for me to try to fall in love with him again.

An hour later, our competitive natures have got us playing our third game, on a winner takes all basis. Cooper received the winner title for the first game, at which point I convincingly demanded a re-match. That ended up as a tie, resulting in us both being unimpressed and agreeing to play one last final game.

"Who's the winner now?" I goad him, as I successfully get a strike.

His face is the portrait of loss, which gives me satisfactory pleasure, until I notice him get a strike as well. "Not you," he laughs.

Annoyance rushes over me, as I consider the chance that I may just lose. That thought is interrupted by an idea I get, that I am certain will lead to me walking out of here the winner. I move closer to Cooper, smiling ridiculously in his face. "I've got a proposition for you."

"Oh, what?" He moans. "Just face it, Lize. You won't be the winner this time."

"But, wait-" I begin, holding my finger up to him. "What if I was the winner here, but you were the winner in another way?" The smile remains on my face, and it is soon mirrored in his, which gives me the impression that he has caught on to what I am talking about.

"And what kind of winner would that be?" He demands.

"Well, let's just say - it's the kind of winner that would be getting more than a strike," I try painfully to flirt as dangerously as I can, to ensure he believes that he will be getting exactly what I am offering to him.

"Are you just saying that so I lose my focus and lose?"

"No, I'm saying it because it is exactly what will happen if you purposely throw the ball down the gutter each time it's your turn. I know you want to," I tease him, by running my hands through his hair, but then instantly regretting it once I remember the amount of gel he uses in his hair. "Ugh, Coop! You really need to lay off the gel."

"I will, if you keep to your promise."

"Then it looks like you're going to be going cold turkey with it. Now, watch me as I win," I bait him. I see the painful sorrow in his face at having to come to terms with the fact that he's losing, but I also see the elation from the offer I just made him.

I pick up the ball with my fingers, and dramatically throw it down the alley, the smile on my face being half-wiped by the two remaining pins that stand tall at the end of the lane.

"Looks like you're going to be needing my help," I hear him whisper in my ear, and I turn to him, with a look of despair on my face.