The Way You Show Me Things

ᴛᴡᴏ / ʙʟᴀᴋᴇ

♡

I wake up with a sore throat and a stiff back from giving my cat room to spread out on the bed while leaving myself cramped in the corner.

The special treatment he gets just for being cute is ridiculous.

Finally, he shifts, and we stretch in tandem, giving me some space. I can't help but thank him for it.

Thank you, cinnamon roll.

But I just end up feeling more drowsy, so I yank my face into the soft, silk cushion that hugs onto my skin. The one that served as a tampon last night as I was drooling into it at the image of my mystery savior.

Tall, dark, and adorned with tattoos. His eyes were the lone source of light in the void of darkness from which he had been shaped.

And I'd like to believe it was all an illusion. Some sort of wet dream I've had since I haven't been touched in a while. Or that he's just an imaginary perfect man built exclusively for what my body calls for.

But I know he's real. And that bothers me in some ways. Knowing that someone like him exists out there, beyond my reach and buried from my sight.

What a shame.

Then, as I try to shake off the heavy feeling of sleepiness pulling my eyelids down, I notice my lonesome phone, which is resting on the pillow next to me, vibrating erratically. I work to place it safely between my slender fingers. And I use the tip of my middle one to unlock it, only to be shocked by the number of missed calls and texts from my best friend Kacey.

What the fuck?

My still-half-closed eyes skim through the words while adjusting to the light as if they had not seen it in forever.

And it hurts like a dick.

KACEY: Bitch, where are you?

KACEY: Helloooo? Blake, pick up the fucking phone, school starts in 30 minutes!

Almost rolling my eyes at her, I instantly jump to my feet and nearly plunge my head into the wall above as I fully grasp the last part of that phrase. I'm fucking late. And neither my alarm nor my brother woke me up earlier.

"Oh my, I'm so going to kill that jerk for leaving me home," I furiously stroll across the room, as I look for some decent-looking clothes to match altogether and make some sort of impression upon my return.

And, not to sound cocky, but once I step foot in that depressing-looking place known as high school, all eyes will be on me. And they'll stay there till something fresh and shocking comes along to chatter about. Because that's what they do. And I'm already guessing what they'll say about me.

Slut.

Or at least that's what they're going to think to themselves. Since saying it out loud will only bring out my brother's protective side. And they'll be in a lot of trouble for it.

He likes giving me a hard time, but that doesn't mean he'll tolerate it from others. He's got his flaws, but he's been a nice brother to me. I'll give him that.

Still, right now, I'm very pissed with him and have already envisioned all the ways I could wreck his life. Starting, by filling his shampoo bottle with shaving cream.

Oh, that's definitely going on my list of pranks for April Fools' Day.

My sun-kissed hair cascades down my back as I sprint out of my bedroom, almost falling down the creaky wooden stairs. But I still manage to make it to the front door amid all the frenzied chaos I've been making. And I finally draw a breath of relief when that first taste of morning warmth hits me.