Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MAKE YOU MINE !
IN AN EFFORT to get Tommy's warning out of her head, Cynthia cleaned her house; fixing and organizing her bedroom, washing the dishes, and more.
Though, it didn't do much.
She quietly wished Daisy was around to distract her and get her mind off this, but no matter what, her mind traveled back. Another thing Cynthia was doing was rehearsing what she'd say to him when he called.
Stupid? A little bit. But, at least it helped.
"I'm not going to come back to Brighton," she mumbled under her breath while putting the dishes back. "Sorry Wilbur, but I—"
She jumped when her phone started ringing. Cynthia cursed and got up, going to grab her phone.
The time was almost five in the evening when she picked up the phone. She exhaled heavily and opened her mouth. "Wi—"
"Cynthia."
She stopped, surprised. Her script seemed to crumble at the tip of her tongue, and forgetting how much she missed his voice—even though it was a few days since they'd last spoken. "What?" Cynthia managed to ask.
"Your window," he replied quickly and ended the call, leaving Cynthia standing in confusion.
Cynthia put down the plates and jogged up the stairs, turning abruptly for her room. She twisted the doorknob before walking over carefully to the window.
Then, someone was knocking on the window.
Along with an all too familiar voice.
Cynthia opened the curtains and what do you know. Wilbur fucking Soot was hanging outside her window, his guitar strapped around his back.
"You stupid—" she cursed and opened the window. Wilbur stumbled into her room, almost tripping over his own feet.
After he composes himself, Wilbur turns to her and smiles awkwardly. "Hey, Cynthia," he said, "how are you?"
!
THEY SAT IN an uncomfortable silence, Cynthia on her bed and Wilbur in a chair, debating who's going to talk first.
"Why'd you..." Cynthia gestured towards the window, "come through there?"
"Oh," Wilbur said, fiddling with the strap of his guitar, "I thought someone was home so I thought it'd be odd if I came through the front door so..."
"You—" Cynthia hesitated and fell silent. "Like I said you could've texted me. Daisy's at a friend's house."
The room was filled with another silence and Cynthia sighed, standing up. "I'm fed up," she announced and walked over to Wilbur. "You're here for a reason so," Cynthia stood in front of him, looking at him dead in the eyes, "what's up?"
