the list { jace norman }

twenty five

*notice: this chapter gets a bit heated.*

"It's only a wedding"

"I know but jesus Emily, a bit of a heads up would have been nice."

"Some understandment would be nice." I shoot back.

This is what it had been recently, for weeks actually. There were nothing but arguments, and all of them ended in slamming doors and name calling. For whatever reason we were so annoyed with each other that each small thing to come from each other's lips would set the other off in almost an instant.

"Understand what? That you don't know how to plan ahead? You cant just spring a wedding on me two days before. Some of us go to work."

"Then don't go!" I shout.

My voice bounces off the clean kitchen. Jace leans against the counter on the opposite wall. His hands rubbing across his eyes in frustration, a light gray beanie planted to his head. It looked nice on him.

I sigh in aggravation, flinging myself from the counter and onto the hardwood floor, the cabinets rattling lightly. I make my way back up to my room, leaving him on his own.

I barely make it to the bed before footsteps patter up the stairs slowly, making his way to my room. He stands in my bedroom doorway, watching me.

I avoid eye contact with him, still upset with him consistently overreacting.

"I want to go to your sisters wedding," his arms cross "but you have to start letting me know things so that I can take some time off."

"Don't do that" I mutter

"What?"

"Come in here and turn everything on me just like you always do."

"What so this is my fault?"

"No! It never is!" I complain, standing to meet his eye level.

"Poor you, your life must be so hard. Everything's always your fault" he mocks.

"It is when all you do is blame shit on me!"

"Maybe I should just leave you alone then? If all I do is put stuff on you"

"That'd be great, actually" I shout at him, meeting the volume of his own voice. We scream at each other.

"We're done then"

"Looks like it."

He stares at me, the words that so easily slipped off our lips. Anger flushes me, he walks to me, putting his lips on mine with hunger. With anger.

I wrap my legs around him, already expecting what he was doing, for if he hadn't, I would have. My arms wrap around his shoulders not daring to leave my lips from his as he carelessly walks the familiar path to my beds, my sheets covering my mattress in a mess.

He drops me to the bed, afraid that if he were to leave his lips from mine, another argument would brew up. Neither of us wanted to talk to each other, not anymore.