Simple Deal

One

Beth:

One. . .

My jaws clenched together tightly in an instant.

Two. . .

My eyes began twitching as if I had a spasm.

Three. . .

"JUSTIN, JUSTIN, BIEBER! WE LOVE JUSTIN BIEBER! GO, BELIEVE, GO! WE'LL HAVE THE NIGHT OF OUR LIVES! WOOHOO!"

Four. . .

I never believed in the fact that announcing your love for someone in public was necessary and compulsory but right now, the only damn thing that I believe in is the fact that I currently have severe difficulty trying to breathe properly without having (imaginary yet visible) smoke blowing out from my nostrils and my ears.

That was the seventh bloody time the bunch of girls in purple had cheered. Goddamn it, they sounded like a broken record on play with a little hint of very much high pitch added into it.

Ugh, I honestly pity my eardrums, also known as me because it's a part of me.

Scanning my eyes down in irritation on those girls for the first time ever since they came and set up their little cheer, I rolled my eyes sympathetically at them before crossing an arm of mine over the other tightly over my chest, letting out a quiet huff.

Well, basically, all five of them were dressed completely alike in neon purple pullover singlets and black ass-showing shorts, with golden glow lights placed above their heads that resembled like halos and golden Adidas Neo shoes.

Three were white with two olive-skinned chicks, and they were gorgeous.

Like mind-blowingly gorgeous.

Also, they extended their hair (the little clips were showing L-O-L) but it actually looked really nice if you don't focus on it too much. Plus, if they even bothered to hide it more such that it's inconspicuous, it would really look twice as better. 

At least they were something as compared to nothing, also known as, me. But see, I get that they're a group of flawless-looking, attention-grabbing cheerleaders but bloody fricking hell, they were pushing my limits.

Was it honestly fun and cool to stand right in the middle of the entrance to the stadium? I don't fricking think so.

Intentionally growling unattractively, ignorant to whether anyone has heard me, I decided to inform my colleague, who was slacking off at a corner typing away on her phone that I needed to use the rest room.

But really, I just needed to give myself (and my eardrums) a break.