Remember Me

Eight

It has been two weeks since the kisses. Things are so different; but normal at the same time.

We still half-despise each other, throwing insults each way every chance we get. Yet, there seems to be some kind of block between us.

It's weird. Extremely weird.

I was currently watching reruns of Teen Mom by myself, feasting on a bowl of olives. They were my guilty pleasure food, I guess.

Noah appears beside me. "Who the heck eats olives?"

"Do you remember when I asked for your opinion?" I pause, tapping my chin. "Me neither."

Noah smirks, making an 'o' shape with his mouth and sharply breathing in.

"Wow, Auden. I just barked – you bit!" Noah mockingly shakes his head, tutting.

"I like olives; okay?" I snap.

"How did I end up with such a rude roommate? Seriously, anybody would've been better than Miss Olive here beside me."

I look up to the ceiling, smirking to myself.

"You know Noah, I wasn't always as rude. You can't litter negativity everywhere and wonder why you have a rubbish life."

With that, I concentrate on the episode of Teen Mom. He thinks he can just prance about, make everybody feel extremely foolish and insecure, and then he complains. He really needs to just look in the mirror.

"Maybe I do need to have a look in the mirror, Auden."

Did I say that out loud? Oh gosh. What else have I said aloud?

 "But you forgot to clean them when you fogged up the glass when you were having a good look at your own character." Noah finishes.

If we were in some video, or a film – this would be the part where you throw on your crop top that says 'I Ain't No Wifey'

Instead, I just mumble the quiet, tender words of "You're such an idiot, Noah." Before walking away.

With my olives, of course.

***

I dial the first number I can find. It goes straight to voicemail, surprise surprise. Every time I need somebody, it always goes to stupid voicemail.

"Hi, Travis. I don't know if you can re-call me, it's Auden. A few weeks back you asked if I'd like to go for a coffee one day. Um, I think that'd be really nice. Bye, I guess." I then proceed to press the end button.

I sigh. Did I just do that? To be honest, I think I just called Travis to keep my mind straying from my Noah.

I don't like Noah. Yes you do.

I like Travis. But you love Noah, really.

No. No.

 I do not like Noah Dillon whatsoever. My conscience is messing with my head.