Wrong Side Of The Bed

40 | i am sorry.

CHRISTIAN'S P.O.V

THE MONTHS PASSED BY IN A BLUR. In between studying, extra classes, Walter, Lucas' football matches, helping Lucas with building his portfolio for colleges, Walter, and my language lessons — it was spring. Even if you hadn't looked outside and noticed the flowers blossoming — you definitely would have noticed the increase in floral themes when it came to Walter's dresses.

I had pulled a Miranda Priestly on her and had sneaked in a comment. "Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking."

She had looked over at me, giving me a wry smile. "While I respect Miranda Priestly, I am afraid our opinions do not match as much in that department. No matter what cliché stuff I wear in what season, the class and elegance I exude will be groundbreaking enough." 

"I think I now wanna watch a movie where you and Miranda Priestly are pushed together in a room."

"That would be disastrous," She had replied. "She is used to ordering around, and I am used to not obeying orders. At all. And I am rich and spoiled, and while I do respect her, I'd stab her before I'd let her walk over me. Terrible, terrible pairing."

"Exactly why I'd pay to watch the movie."

Over our time together, Walter hadn't turned sweeter by even a single smidgen, and I was grateful for that. She was still my violent little creature, but thankfully, I had ceased to be on the receiving side of her intense violence.
 
"Dude," Lucas whined in my ear. "I am dying."

"And here I thought that I was the dramatic one between the two of us," I said as I hummed, trying to tuck the scarf in properly. I turned to Lucas with a flourish, wiggling my eyebrows. "How do I look?"

I was wearing a pair of gray trousers, over which I had thrown on a grey and white and black plaid shirt, a black prince blazer (I read it, the fashion stuff is surprisingly interesting) with cute golden buttons, and a silk scarf with gold and white and yellow and reddish color details that I had managed to wrap around my neck and successfully tuck it inside my shirt after my thirty-third attempt. The fashion collection catalogue that I was following also asked to take a matching scarf piece and put it in the breast pocket of the blazer and let a triangle thing pop out from the pocket for some pizzazz, so I had done just that. With the outfit, I had slipped into my trusty loafers. They never went wrong.

Lucas regarded me for a long, long moment. "Jesus," He murmured. "Jannat has worked magic on you. You have come a long way from mismatched t-shirts and blazers of a wannabe dark-academic to a dude who looks like he is a part of the polo club and burns money to keep himself warm."

"I don't look like myself?" I asked, frowning. I had put in a lot of effort into this outfit. "Do you think Jannat will like it?"

"Not really," He said, truthfully. "Jannat appreciates self-expression through fashion. And while you do look good in this fit, it isn't you."

I ditched the scarf and the weird cloth thing protruding from my pocket that was making me self conscious. I popped open the first two buttons of my shirt, and also ran a hand through my perfectly gelled hair to make them return to their usual messy and tousled state. "Now?"

Lucas reached out to grab the lapels of my jacket and pushed them apart a bit further. He grinned. "Now, it's more like you."

I patted the green varsity jacket that Lucas had thrown over a black tee and black jeans. "You dressed up today."

"I own only one pair of black jeans, and I wore them today," Lucas said proudly, reaching out to curl a wisp of his hair with his index finger. He always did that, curling that one wisp of hair that crept over his forehead.