You Don't Know You The Way I Do- A Team Starkid Fanfiction

Chapter 3.8

Sorry this took so long to put up, like last chapter and the chapter before that and the chapter before that. I really do suck at updating, when I really think about it. I tell myself HEY NATALIE I WILL NOW WRITE and then I get mesmerized by the wonderful creation of Youtube of Tumblr and it all just falls to shit.

Well I was at volleyball practice the other day, and I was at the net, jumping up to try and save a ball when I landed on someone's foot of the other side of the net and my ankle made a 90 degree angle. It's not broken, but it hurts terribly to walk on it and my coach said if I injure it again the next time I play (which is this Saturday, also probably two weeks after this fanfic will be updated), I may need crutches and a boot. I do not want crutches and a boot.

Anyway, I decided I was going to rewatch Doctor Who. I have about five episodes left before I begin Supernatural, which I am deathly afraid of joining that fandom on account of the fact they are bat-shit crazy. Jesus take the wheel.

Also, don't hate me for this chapter.

HERE WE GO!

CHAPTER 3.8; LAURENS'S POV:

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I was right about to start loading boxes in the truck I rented for the day. I was thankful to prolong the labor-intensified task of moving every single pile of shit I owned into boxes then into a truck then out of boxes then into a new house which I would have to organize. 

I popped outside as I pulled my phone out of my jeans. The wind smashed against my face like a screen door, blowing my hair behind my head and through the breeze. I probably should of put a jacket on since I could feel the goosebumps on my arms, but I figured this phone call would only take a few minutes.

The Caller ID read Amanda Mezina, my real estate agent. I slid my phone open and cleared my throat. "Hello?"

"Lauren." Her tone was deadly serious, like she was about to tell me somebody close to me died. My stomach drooped slightly, but I tried not to let myself think of the absolute worst situation.

"Amanda? What's up, is something wrong?" I asked a little too rapidly to be played off as nonchalant.

"Lauren, I don't know how to tell you this... But something happened," she said. I could just imagine her running her hands through her hair and barely stopping herself from hyperventilating. I mean, she seriously sounded stressed out.

"What, did the house catch of fire or something?" She was silent. "Wait, seriously, is the house ashes right now?"

"No... It's just that..." She huffed, then spewed out the next sentence. "Tom was arrested." Tom was the man I was buying the house from. He was only in his thirties, but already a large bald spot the size of roll of duct tape was forming on his head. His belt was always way too tight for his vast waist and he had a distinct smell of mildew.

"Okay... What for? You act like it's the end of the world. Can I not move in today?" I asked, ignoring my cold feet on the gravel of my doorstep and the tiny pebbles between my toes.

"No, Lauren, you don't understand. Tom was arrested for possession of marijuana. The police had a warrant to search his house, and it was everywhere. The floorboards, the plumbing, every nook and cranny you can possibly imagine. They returned an hour later and arrested him," she said very slowly, pronouncing every syllable very carefully.

"So..." I frowned, "Did they tear the house up or something? Are they not going to reimburse me?"

"Lauren, you're not getting the point I'm trying to make. Since the marijuana was in his house, it's a crime scene. There are all of these legal laws to go with it, but the bottom line is that the house will not be move-in ready for at least two more years. This place was laced with drugs. The police audited the house, and it's their property now." I stopped listening when Amanda said two more years, though.