Who's Texting Me? Oh, Just My Homicidal Stalker. boyxboy

Chapter 32: Preparation

At around 7:20, I was still on my phone when I heard a tired mutter from close behind me. "What the fuck?"

"G'morning." I replied.

There was a long pause. "Okay, I'm dreaming." There was a yawn. "See you in the morning when you freak the fuck out and thrash around then." He said, pulling me closer and placing his head down again.

I sighed in exasperation and placed my phone back on the nightstand. I twisted around so that I was more or less facing Shawn. "Shawn, would you mind waking up?" I asked in annoyance, flicking his face.

He opened his eyes and gave me a perplexed look. "Not that I'm not ecstatic about this... but what's gotten into you?" He asked. Great, that was exactly what I didn't want to think about at the moment.

"...I don't know. Are you complaining?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He cracked a smile. "You know I'm not." He chuckled.

"So... mind letting go now so that I can get up?" I asked, futilely trying to move out of his grip.

"Yes, I do mind." He replied frankly, ignoring my attempts.

I groaned. "Come on Shawn, I'm fucking hot."

"I've noticed." He replied suggestively.

It was only then that I realized how fucking pressed together we were. There wasn't even four inches of space between our faces. "Sh-Shawn, do we really have time for this?" I asked, leaning back a bit. In less than 12 hours, we were going to leave for a fancy ass, high class, and most probably rigged party.

"I could be strapped to a time-bomb and still have time for this." He replied with conviction, starting to use the hand by my head to play with my hair.

"W-what are you doing?" I stuttered. My head was sensitive, and the only direction to lean my head away from the touching was in the direction of his face. And that was completely out of the question.

Shawn looked surprised for a moment, then narrowed his eyes into a smirk. "Huh, that's a nice reaction." He said, tugging at some more strands of my hair.

I shuddered involuntarily. My scalp wasn't usually this sensitive... "I... I didn't let you fucking cuddle with me, just to be ha-harassed." I stammered out.

Shawn continued twirling his fingers through my hair. "Then why did you?" He asked.

"Lately Y-you haven't been sleeping at all, a-and with tonight's party, I figured that you should." I said, trying to sound composed. "Now get your hand off of my hair before I ripe yours out at the root." I threatened sharply.

He laughed. "Alright, alright." He patted my head and drew his hand away.

"Okay, so will you let me get up now?" I asked, trying to tug my legs away from under his. He didn't budge. "Shawn." A groaned. "We still have to come up with an excuse to tell my mom why we need to be gone this evening. And with the 'murderer' on the loose, I don't think it'll be easy to convince her." I said, pushing against him with both hands.

He sighed. "I guess you're right." He agreed, letting go of my torso and legs. I quickly rolled out of bed and stood up before he could change his mind.

"Okay, so the only way to convince her would probably be to say that we're going somewhere filled with people we know." I pondered. "And it should also be out of this neighborhood, since this is where people have been getting killed."

"We'll tell her one of my rich friends is having a huge birthday party and that he lives in San Francisco." Shawn suggested immediately.

I paused for a moment, thinking it over. "...That's actually a really good idea." I said. I was surprised that he thought it up so quickly.