One Word | H.S.

Chapter Forty-One

Coming-of-age vibes.

I'm sensing a return of the old metaphors.

~

Escape.

~

Mia hasn't thrown a single object, not one.

Both Pretty Boy and I are frozen in spot, feet nailed into the floorboards as the pair of us grip the scratchy fabric clung to our bodies.

Silence engulfs the room, sets of wandering eyes, as a result of Mia's arrival, promising our soon-death.

I have no fathomed idea of what to do in this exact moment, running away from my pile-of-sticks seeming rather childish, cowardly.

But, this is easily the worst day of my life.

'You think that every day; It's losing meaning.'

My eyes snap to Harry, his Adam's-apple bobbing as he, too, proves petrified of the situation. "Oh my god!" My voice cracks out, simmering with a heated nervousness as I drop my towel to the ground. "My towel! This is so embarrassing. I'm nude!" I extend my arms to the side, displaying every inch of my statured self.

Distraction, my nipples will work perfectly.

Mia shoots a dead-panned glare, her features unfazed as she seems disappointed, though hardly shocked. "Christ." Harry speaks through an uncomfortable laugh, hiding his cowering self to prolong this horrendous exchange. "Get some clothes." He presses, my middle finger flipping him off in the air, arms still extended.

The icy breeze erupts a mountain of goosebumps over my legs, shaving proving worthless as I slowly evolve into the once-prior cavewoman.

Also, my nipples are ridiculously hard.

Sex-appeal.

Standing from the couch slowly, not a bone cracking on her extremely, unusually healthy self, Mia's gaze burns a volcanic crater in my exposed skin. "Do you have any spare plates?" She questions, my eyes shooting considerably wider than before as destruction is promised.

I hope, for the sake of everything horny, that Walmart is having a sale on brooms.

I shake my head feverishly, "No, no-no. Why would I own plates? What psychopath would own a plate?" My extended smile is psychotic, gleaming the treacherous color of orange with every shine of my teeth. "Plates are for pussies. And, I prefer eating off the floor." I add, sounding absolutely ridiculous.

'You need to stop speaking, forever.'

The dropping of the lightest pin could be sounded throughout the vastest museum, ricocheting off the walls in a light-speeded sound from the chilling silence.

Widened hearts, erratic heartbeats, hardened nipples.

I mean, there's such a variety of ways to describe this situation, but a horror film is the most suitable.

Pursing her shined lips, Mia's eyes flip between my nude self, and Harry's childlike one. "I can see your dick. You cold?" She nods towards Pretty Boy, a quick snicker escaping my throat from her forwardness, her rivaling boldness.