Preacher Man // ross lynch + driver era

75

With my jaw dropped, I slowly turn my head to face Ross. "What the fuck?" I mouth, careful not to move my body too much to make noise.

"I'm going to throw up if I hear my sister have sex," Ross whispers with a warning.

I look at him with wide eyes. "What are we supposed to do?" I ask.

"I can't just sit here," he whispers harshly.

I glance over at the furthest thing away from my door. The closet. "Well we can't just walk out there either! Want to sit in my closet and talk?" I stress.

"Fuck, fine," he says.

I nod. "Please, get up softly." This isn't ideal for anyone.

I slide my body off the bed very slowly, refusing to let it creek. My bare feet touch the floor and I move to the side to allow him to get up. Once we were successfully inside of my small closet, each of our backs are touching opposite walls, our knees bent.

"I can't believe this is what we resort to," he whispers once I close the door.

I click my flashlight on and place it on the floor so it illuminates the small area.

I shrug. "It would've been more embarrassing for everyone if we went out there."

"It's fucking hot in here," he complains as usual. "And my knees are going to cramp."

I sigh and stare at his furrowed eyebrows. "So what do you want? You're, like, a giant! Try stretching out."

Ross kicks his feet out, turning diagonal but can't completely stretch out because I have my small shoe rack there. I can tell he's getting frustrated.

"This sucks," he whispers, sitting with his legs criss-crossed.

I place my hand on his knee. "Better than being out there. We have to work with what we got," I reply.

"Where are you going?" He asks as I begin scooting myself to him. "Babe, there is no room."

I squeeze in next to him and wrap my arm around his stomach, placing my head on his shoulder. "I just want to cuddle like before," I reply, also wanting to quiet his complaints.

Ross places his head over mine. "You really want to go mini-golfing?" He randomly asks.

I laugh quietly. "Just an idea. We don't have to," I reply, my hand moving softly over his shirt.

"How long do you think we have to be in here?"

I pull back to look at him. "You have the patience of a fish. Play a game on your phone or something."

Ross rolls his eyes and grabs his phone, trying to occupy himself. I lean back down and watch as he plays some basketball game. Once he gets too frustrated with it, he starts scrolling through his social media.

"I have 302 follow requests on here. It just keeps growing," he brags. "Should I just turn my profile on public?"

I nod. "Yeah, why not? Just make sure you delete or archive anything you don't want people to see."

He nods and begins scrolling through his own profile. He never used to post before and he hardly does now. With the ten posts on his Instagram, three of are us. Three are from  the shows to promote them. Then the rest of the four are either with his family or friends.

"I don't think anything should be deleted. I'm not drinking or smoking in them," he shrugs then switches his profile over to public. He goes back to this profile and clicks on the photo from us at New Years Eve. "I think this will always be my favorite picture of us," he admits, staring down at the picture of us kissing.