There's A Jock in My Bed! [✓]

13. Hell Hath No Fury.

                                                     There’s a Jock in My Bed!

                                 Chapter 13 – Hell Hath No Fury (Revised & Reposted)

                        Song of the Chapter: Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani (2004)

This was posted a few days ago. I'm praying that Wattpad is fixed for sure this time so no screw ups. 

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Silently and slowly I get up from the bed. My mouth is still slightly parted and my eyes still have not left the door.

My chest is rising slowly and every breath seems like my last. The shock, the feeling in my throat and the trembling of my hands was becoming too much. I felt like I felt like I’m going to vomit. You know, that feeling like it’s going to happen but it doesn’t. I remove the sheet and instantly blush to myself when I notice that I was stark naked.

I quickly grab a pair of boxers and a random white t-shirt and walk out the room. It’s moments like this when silence really screams aloud. Says more than words could ever do. I know that my dad is somewhere here and it’s most likely he knows about me and Alex seeing he spent the entire night here.

“This day can’t get worse.” I murmur, breathing in and out so loud it’s clearly audible.  I pace down the hallway and down the stairs. I enter the living room and notice a dim light shining and sucks in a breath when I see dad sitting in a chair reading a book. The room is lightly lit, only a little lamp next to him is providing light. His glasses are on his nose and he looks at ease.

I creep up but he looks up causing me to stop in my tracks. “Morning.” He mutters near to inaudible and looks back into the book that is so enticing it seems he can’t keep eye contact.

“Yeah, what time is it?” I ask sitting the floor in the front of him.

“7:30…” he says, trailing off. His face never left the book. I’m growing uneasy at this point. Maybe it’s not the book, maybe’s he’s ashamed of me for breaking the sex rule. I was even ashamed at myself for letting it happen in the first place. Maybe I should talk to him, would he even hear me? He seems so intent on avoiding conversation.

“It’s Saturday…” I mumble as my pathetic conversation starter.

He adjusts himself in his chair and clears his throat. “Yes and tomorrow is Sunday and oh, Monday afterwards.” He mocks, still not breaking eye contact with the words on the page in front of him and for some reason I pictured Rebecca Black…

“Dad what’s the matter?”

He drops his book on his lap, closing it. He sighs and takes off his glasses, setting them on the table next to him. “Evan, I expect much out of you. I’m disappointed.” That’s all he said before getting up. To add insult to injury he turns off the little lamp that is illuminating the room, leaving me sitting there in complete darkness.

I felt the tears at my eyes but force them to stay in. But they weren’t tears of sadness, for some reason I didn’t feel sad, nor depressed…I feel anger.

Anger towards Allen, a nobody who shows up randomly to add to the chaos exploding in my life right now.  

Angry at Jacob, who initially started all of this crap, all of this drama, Alex-for so many reasons it’s hard to just choose one right now. But most of all, the one person who I’m angry at the most, who I’m loathing is myself.