I Hate You

Part 8

“Thanks, Mom,” you smile in relief, and your mother sends you a tired smile from across the kitchen.
“Just make sure your friends are gone by twelve, alright? I’m glad you’re having them over, I’ve missed seeing Cassy around.”

Er.
Right.
You almost feel guilty for lying to your mother about who was coming over, but… You couldnt very well tell her a boy she’d never met was coming over to hang out without her questioning you.
About his parents, about his last name — and no doubt she’d immediately remember him as the boy who’d made you cry for days in middle school and make you self conscious about even wearing basketball shorts because of your birth mark.
So no, you weren’t going to tell her 
“When are you gonna be home?” you ask, leaning against the counter, watching as your mother fiddles nervously with a few of her lunch items.
“Probably late tomorrow afternoon,” your mother sighs, giving you a regretful smile. “I’m so sorry I’m so busy this year, I feel like we’re not spending any time together! It’s just with your grandma being sick, and having to work the extra job —.”
“No, Mom, it’s okay,” you tell her quickly.
You know it’s hard on her, and you want to make it easier. She has to pay for the house now, and it was a blessing it had been mostly paid off by the time she and your father divorced. She was doing quite well, and thanks to the fact your father is the one who pays for your car and your credit card as per the divorce agreement, it helped a little.
Even though he’s still an asshole. 
“Would it help if I get a job?” you ask her suddenly, frowning. “Like the extra income would help —?”
“No, of course not!” Your mother balks at the idea, lifting her lunch bag over her shoulder. “You need to focus on school right now, on your grades and enjoying yourself! Leave all the worrying to me.”
But you don’t want too.
You want to help.
You sigh, but force a smile at her as she quickly trots around the counter, kissing your forehead and hugging you tightly.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
You lean against the counter, listening to the door close and the car start as your mom leaves.
And now you were alone.

You: r u coming over?
Ryan: yea b there in 10
​​​
​​Good.
The pizza should be not long after him.
You give yourself a once over.
Admittedly, you’d dressed up a little, wearing makeup and a nice pair of jeans you know makes your butt great.
You’re not sure why you want him to notice. 
But you do.
So you’re almost a little giddy and nervous when you open the front door, And you smile as you see Ryan sanding there.
He looks nice — you like the smell of his cologne.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So, I ordered pizza,” you say, gesturing him inside your house, spying his car parked along the curb. “Should be here soon.”
“Cool. What —?”
“Supreme, of course.” You roll your eyes.
Ryan chuckles, and shifts a little nervously. 
He couldn’t believe he was in your house again.
Alone.
With you.
And no one else. 
Why was he even doing this? 
Neither of you even like each other.
He’d told himself fifty different reasons not to hang out with you on the drive over, and yet still here he was, in your living room, completely out of place amongst the white furniture and throw rugs.
Why the hell did you live right out of a magazine? 
“So like, I was gonna make some popcorn,” you say, lingering in the kitchen doorway, the makeup around your eyes really making them stand out. “You wanna pick a movie on Netflix?”
“Popcorn and pizza?”
“It’s the only way to watch movies!” You inform him with a smile. “Soda or something?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Alright."6
He’s so nervous. 
Like he almost wants to wring his hands in front of him.
He can hardly stand it.
Should he sit down?
His eyes flick nervously to your furniture. 
Eh…
He’d go to the kitchen.
He hastily steps inside, watching as you press the buttons on your microwave, and his eyes wander down.
Nice jeans.
"Your house is nice,” he says, and you glance over your shoulder at him as you reach for an orange bowl out of a cabinet.
“Thanks. Hardly anyone’s here so it basically stays that way.”
“Oh.” Ryan frowns; what’s he supposed to say to that?
“So I didn’t interrupt any plans did I?” you ask, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. “Like band practice or something?”
​​Ryan hesitates, bracing his hands against the island counters. “Um, no. Guys all had plans tonight so practice was off.”
He hopes you were being serious in asking and not teasing, but your voice had seemed serious.
So you weren’t making fun of him.
sometimes he felt lame, him and the guys trying to start a band, knowing it would never get them anywhere. They suck so far, they couldn’t get their shit together, and it almost seemed pointless to work so hard on it when it wasn’t going to get anywhere. 
Although he wasn’t going to tell the guys that.
Especially not Chris.
He glances at the microwave as it dings, and you turn, shaking the bag before pouring it into the bowl. 
The doorbell rings, and you brighten.
“Pizza! There’s twenty bucks in the bowl by the entryway, can you get it?”
“Uh, sure.”
You were gonna trust him with money?
You must not think he’s gonna steal your shit then.
Or maybe he should stop tying to guess what you think of him.
He sighs as he steps to the front door, lifting the bill up and frowning. He tugs the door open, and blinks, seeing —.
“Hey, Ryan!”
Oh shit.
“Uh… Hey…. Danny….”
“Nice place.” the sophomore glances up approvingly, holding two large, hot pizzas in his arms. He had a couple classes with Ryan, he thought he was really cool. “Do you live here?”
“Uh, no, a — friend does. Uh, how much do I owe you?”
Ryan wants him gone.
Like now.
No one can know this is your house and he’s in it.
His friends would die.
Your friends would die.
You would probably both die because of your friends —.
“Seventeen fifty.”
“Here’s a twenty, keep the change.” Ryan hastily thrusts the money in the kids hands, almost wrenching the pizzas from him. “I’ll see you Monday, cool?”
“Yeah —.”
Ryan shuts the door.
The more the kid talked the more likely you would come around the corner and Danny would see you.
And that was a no.
Ryan let’s his breath go. 
Jeez.
He hadn’t thought someone he knew would be delivering the fucking pizza!
That was a close one.
Not that he was sneaking around with you or anything.
That would imply the two of you actually fooling around —.
“Hey, that was the pizzas right?” He hears you call from the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah! did you order two?”
“Yeah.”
Of course you’d ordered two.
You could eat leftover pizza for days, plus you wanted to make sure Ryan could eat as much as he wants and not have to worry.
“Just set them on the coffee table,” you gesture as you step from the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn and sodas in your arm. Your eyes trail after Ryan as he goes to the table, and you inhale, absolutely loving the scent of his cologne as it lingers.
God he smells good.
What was he even wearing?
You follow after him, plopping down on the couch and setting the bowl on the table as he leans over to drop the pizzas.
You eye him as he’s not looking.
He was wearing a green and black checked button up shirt over a black one, the green open and the sleeve rolled up to his elbows. 
And now go admit you kind of like his long hair.
It suits him.
And it’s very, very clean.
“What kind of movie were you thinking about?” Ryan asks, opening the pizza boxes, deeply inhaling the scent of pizza; his stomach wants to growl — he didn’t realize he was so hungry. But he’d been so nervous all day he’d barely eaten anything, had just sort of bid his time until it was okay to come over.
Damn.
He was lame wasn’t he ?
“I dunno. What do you wanna watch?” you ask, lifting up a piece of pizza, starving. Turns out you don’t feed yourself very well when you’re by yourself, and your mother had too much on her mind to exactly cook four course meals.
And you had no idea how to cook.
It was a miracle you got the washing machine to work.
“What do you normally watch?”
“Cartoons.”
“Seriously?”
“… Maybe. I’m secretly five okay?” you defend, shrugging your shoulders as you bite into hot, gooey cheese, able to taste the warm red sauce and a green pepper. You mouth had been watering since you’d smelled the damned thing.
It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.
“Alright. What cartoon do you wanna watch then?” he sends you an amused glance, half of your pizza slice already gone. You glance over at the TV thoughtfully, then reach for the remote, flicking to your recently watched.
“Adventure Time?” Ryan sounds dubious.
“Yes! It’s great! Have you never watched it?”
“I don’t generally have time,” he shrugs, frowning as you drop a few pieces of popcorn onto your pizza before eating, apparently not thinking that was the weirdest food combination ever.
But you were weird anyway.
“Then we need to start at the beginning!” You say, clicking on the very first episode. “You’ve been deprived!”
“Or lucky.”
“No!” You scoff, and he grins.
Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
​​And four hours later he decides it’s not.
You’re leaning back against the couch cushions, your knees drawn up, face red as you giggle, strands of your hair framing your face. Ryan is laughing, his arms laid about the back of the couch, and it’s all either of you can do to breathe — why had he never watched this stupid show before?
One entire pizza is gone, the popcorn bowl is empty, and you’re afraid you’re going to pee on yourself if you keep laughing.
The show was so much better when you were watching it with someone else who’d never seen it — Ryans comments were hilarious! 
Your stomach was cramping, and your hand presses against your mouth, the other flailing — you’re going to die if you don’t get a breath soon!
“No!” You gasp, flailing your hand against his shoulder. “She’s the princess, she —.”
“Is pink!”
“Bubblegum!”
“He loves a pink girl!”
“He doesn’t care that she’s pink!”
“They do say love is blind.”
“Ryan!”
“Well they do!”
You roll your eyes, and lean forward, reaching for your drink as you gasp for air — who had any idea Ryan could be so funny? 
Did his friends know how funny he was?
You lean back with a huff, only then noticing his arm is behind you. 
How long had that been there?
“So this is seriously what you do in your alone time?” Ryan glances at you curiously. “Watch cartoons?”
“Sometimes I watch movies too.”
He rolls his eyes.
You chuckle, squirming a little so you’re farther down against the cushions, your hands still wrapped around your drink.
You were trying not to wonder if he was trying to make a move or not.
You don’t think he is.
Ryan doesn’t seem like the move mind of guy.
He seems more like the blunt type, like hey I like you im gonna kiss you right now type.
You could already imagine it.
The room would be dark, shadows over both of your faces. He would glance over at you, your eyes would meet briefly but then you’d look away. His fingers would reach over, closing gently around your chin and tilting it up so his eyes could meet yours. It would be so slow, his eyes on yours as his lips slowly, ever so slightly, brush yours. And when he sees you’re not going to pull away, they press more firmly, more confidently, your hand rising to curl into his shirt, his —.
Oh my god.
No.
No no no!
Don’t imagine kissing him!
No no no no no!
Oh my god.
Just no.
Why are you thinking about kissing Ryan!?
RYAN!?
NO.
BAD (Y/N).
You can feel the red creeping hotly into your cheeks, and you send him a sideways glance, seeing he was checking his phone discreetly from his pocket.
Right.
It was late.
Wasn’t it?
You don’t even know.
Shit.
Now you’re flustered.
What should you be doing right now!?
Ahhhh!
You’re immensely relieved when your phone suddenly lights up, and you see you have a text from your mom. You hastily grab it, the bright light hurting your eyes as your fingers tap smoothly across the screen.