The Right To Sophistication

Chapter 6

"Go left, go left!" Ollie shouts at the TV, waving a piece pepperoni pizza in the air. "Bloody hell!" He shouts again as the player kicks and misses, the ball bouncing off the goalpost.
"Ollie mate," Finch says calmly, "they can't hear you."
"Ugh," Ollie groans slumping back into the sunken couch his eyes still trained on the football match that was playing out on the TV. I had been in the boys apartment less than half an hour and they were already slumped on the couch eating pizza and watching football. I guess I should have expected this. I didn't really know what to do with myself here. I felt awkward and out of place, a feeling that I'm to familiar with. The boy's apartment looked and smelt like a typical boy's flat. Not that I had ever been in one, I'm just guessing. It was particularly untidey with empty pizza cartoons littering the floor and unwashed dishes pilled up next to the sink. It smelled like dirty socks and cheese with a hint of aftershave and I'm beginning to wonder who on Earth allowed these boy's to live unsupervised together.

"Wait," I say speaking up from where I sat at the other end of the couch, both their heads turn to look at me. "I still don't know why you guys live together?" I had never met a 6th former who lived by themselves without parents.
"Oh," Ollie says the quietest he'd been since I had met him, "we only moved in a couple months ago. Finch was having some trouble at home and..." Finch shoots him a glare and he trails off looking at me sheepishly.
"We thought it would be fun to flat together," Finch says tersely, getting up off the couch, "I'll be in my room if you need me." He walks out of the living room and I hear footsteps making their way upstairs. This apartment must mimic the same layout as mine.
"He's in one of his moods again," Ollie sighs returning back to the football game, "usually I'd go talk to him but its 10 minutes to half time and we're loosing." I stare at him confused, was he placing a football match in front of his best friend?
"You can go talk to him," Ollie offers distractedly, "his room is the first on the right."

Slowly I make my way off the couch and across the ripped carpet. Opening the door I'm faced with a wooden staircase, battered and bruised from years of mattress sliding and dragging furniture. Carefully I climb them trying to make the least possible noise. The first door on the right is made of thick wood with no indication of who lives behind it. I feel a wave of nerves crash down on me as I reach for the handle with a shaking hand.
"Hey," a tired voice says from somewhere in the room as I step through the door. Finch was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling his hands thrown above his head.
"You okay?" I ask stepping over a pile of dirty laundry that hadn't made it to the hamper.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he says lifting his head and sitting up, "Did Ollie send you?"
I nod slowly sitting down on the end of his bed. His room looked pretty normal, not that I had seen many teenage boys bedrooms. He had a few football posters adorning the walls and a small desk in the corner. The desk was cluttered with notebooks, camera lenses and discard photos.
"I wanna show you something," Finch says after a moment of silence, I look at him expectantly but instead he sits up and make his way to the wardrobe. Pulling open the doors I'm blinded by an array of colors. Every inch of the inside of his doors was covered in photos, there were big blown up ones and tiny Polaroids to photos with yellow sticky notes stuck on them. It was like Finch's life was laid out in pictures.
"Wow," I breathe stepping into the wardrobe, "Why do you keep them hidden like this?" I ask gesturing to the wooden doors.
Finch flinches his smile faltering, "so people don't think I'm weird."
I look at him confused, why would anyone think this was weird?
"It's not weird," I assure him and he just smiles and sighs.
"Of course you say that Grace." I glare at him.
"It's still not weird," I insist and Finch laughs.
"Look," he says pointing to one of the pictures, "your here."
There I was. Standing on the pier wind whipping my hair around my face, a goofy smile dancing on my lips. The ice cream I was holding dripping down my hand.
"I look like a chipmunk." I laugh pointing out my rounded cheeks.
"Whatever," Finch says, "I think you look cute."
A blush spreads across my cheeks and I bite my lip, the wardrobe instantly feeling suffocating.
"I should be going," I say stuttering, stumbling backwards out of the wardrobe.
"Nonsense," Finch replies, "Its barely 8 O'clock, you said your Mum wasn't home till 11."
"Oh," I mumble taking a seat on his bed again. My hand absentmindedly tracing the pattern on his duvet.
"So tell me more about yourself Grace." I freeze and let out a long shaky breath.
"What do you want to know?"
"I don't know, anything." He grins, flopping down next to me.
"Um..." I trail off not knowing what information to give," My favorite color is purple?"
Finch grins, "That's my sisters favorite color too!"
In my mind I start piecing together everything I know about Finch. He was 17, he drove a Ford, he lived in an apartment with Ollie, his best friend was a girl and he had a smile which could light up an entire city. What did Finch know about me? That I'm awkward and I carry a camera round with me 24/7?
"What about your family?" Finch asks genuinely interested. I tense up at the mention of the word family. Finch notices and imeadetly back tracks, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about that Grace."
"No it's fine," I say pushing the lid down harder on the anxiety that was building within me. "My Dad left a couple of years ago, it's just me, my Mum and Benji...he's my cat," I tack on at the end.
"Cool," Finch says, "where'd your Dad go?"
"I don't know," I admit, " he left on a trip to America and never came back."
"Ouch," Finch says, "that's cruel."
"Yeah, I'm used to just me and Mum now though, I mean I miss him but it's okay." Finch nods but doesn't say anything as if he was sorting through the small pieces of my life I had given him.
"Have you seen the Matrix?" He asks after a while, his eyes lighting up.
"Um no? Should I have?"
"Sophi-Grace how have you never seen such a famous movie?"
Before I can respond again Finch is up and moving sorting through the stacks of paper on his desk. Three minutes later and an even bigger mess on the floor he produces his laptop.
"We, Grace are going to watch the Matrix," he says joining me on the bed again. Before I can protest he adds, "I'm not taking no for an answer."

I wake up to the bright light of a laptop screen shinning in my eyes. Weird, I never go to sleep with my laptop on. I was lying in an awkward position at the end of a bed, my knees tucked under my chin. I could here soft breathing coming from somewhere else in the room. Slowly I sit up and in the light of the laptop I make out a familiar mop of tasseled brown hair.
"Shit," I mumble, finding my phone in my pocket I check the time. It was 2:30am, why didn't I have any messages from Mum asking where I was?
"Finch," I groan shaking the sleeping lump next to me, "wake up."
"What?" Comes his muffled reply as he looks up at me dazed, "you okay Grace?" He asks as if nothing was wrong.
"Finch," I snap making him jump, "It's 2:30 in the morning."
"Then you should be asleep," he replies rolling back over.
"Ugh," I groan giving up and flopping back down next to him on top of the duvet. I could go home, but then Mum would just ask me where I had been. I stare up at Finch's ceiling, shivering as a cold breeze blows through the open window.
"Grace," comes Finch's voice again, this time softer.
"Yeah?" I ask, not moving.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly and I feel my heart beat a little faster. I was in Finch's room, in Finch's bed.
"For what?"
"For not waking you when you feel asleep halfway through the movie," he shifts and sit up, "you look cold," he says, his eyes glinting in the light of the laptop screen.
"I'm fine," I say but I feel goosebumps prick my skin as I speak.
"Here," Finch says scooting over and patting the spot under the covers next to him. Closing his laptop screen I crawl up the bed and climb under the covers. The spot where he had been lying was warm and I could feel his breathe on the back of my neck. It's strange how in a matter of weeks you can become so close to someone. Four weeks ago I would have laughed at the idea of becoming friends with someone as crazy and charming as Finch Darren. I had never been the girl who always had a boy draped over her arm and I never planned to be that girl. But when I feel Finch's arms wrap their way around me I don't tense up, instead I relax into his chest letting his warm breath on my neck distract my thoughts.
"Do you make a habit of this?" I whisper into the dark, wondering how many other girls have been in the position I am now. He doesn't reply but he inhales sharply and I feel his arms tighten around me.

Hey Guys! Here's chapter seven! I hope you enjoy it!!
Please leave a comment or vote if you did.
Love you
Cait xxx