The Spares

About A Girl Excerpt

- This is from About A Girl if you didn't guess already, so don't get confused, it's from Seth's POV - 

It wasn't hard to miss the opening and closing of the front door of my apartment, not to mention the loud footsteps down the hallway.

I frowned, that sure as hell wasn't normal.

After a moment of careful consideration, keeping my eyes closed and forehead pressed into the mattress, it was decided it could only be one or two people, maybe even both. Heaving a sigh, my eyes flicked open, looking straight at the white sheets.

When my bedroom door blasted upon, I didn't even move my head, just groaned, “Go away.”

“Now what fun would that be?” came Marco's voice, irritatingly cheerful.

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” I ordered, still not moving.

A snort, that wasn't hard to distinguish as Colton's rang through the room. “Yeah, not happening, buddy, get your ass up.”

Deciding ignoring their presences was the best course of action, although it had never worked before, I groaned loudly, closing my eyes once again. But barely a minute passed before pain shot up through the middle of my back.

“Ow, shit,” I muttered, planting my palms on the mattress and shoving myself up. “What the hell did you hit me with?” I yawned.

“I think Blue Oyster Cult.”

Scowling at the innocent look that Colton was wearing, I kicked off the blanket. It wouldn't matter to them if I'd only gotten three hours of sleep, they were much too used to the not sleeping, they could care less after all these years. “Could you not throw around my music?” I asked, snatching up the CD from the bed and dropping it on my desk.

“You could just get up;” Marco pointed out, “Put on a damn shirt.”

Rolling my eyes, I snatched up a shirt from the back of the chair, pulling the plain white shirt over my head.

“And now that we're all decent, we need to talk to you,” proclaimed Colton, bounding up to me and threw an arm around my shoulders.

Chuckling, I just shoved him away, “Get away from me.”

“Oh, now I'm hurt.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed past him. “I'm sure you'll get over it,” I called over my shoulder, not bothering to wait for them. Those boys probably spent more time in this apartment than I had when I was conscious, or at least sober.

“Don't tell me you have a hangover or something, because you're really not any fun when you're scowling and threatening to punch us in the face if we breathe!” Marco said, their footsteps following me down the hall.

Shaking my head, I glanced back to them. “Do you just want me to punch you, then?”

“No, we just love you,” said Colton sarcastically, grinning broadly as he hurried forward a few steps putting his hands on my shoulders.

“Don't you have a girlfriend you could be waking up?” I asked, shrugging the hands off my shoulders hastily, because if I knew the boy – and I did – it wouldn't be too long until he decided it was a good idea to jump on my back because he thought it would be funny. When Marco chortled, I just sent him a flat look, saying, “And don't you have a girl you're practically stalking even though she's in Canada right now?”

That got him to shut up pretty damn fast, letting me walk down the hallway without being attacked while they were thinking over my words.

But Colton's words stopped me again, “What about you?”