hard » m. phelps

XXVIII|Clarisse

I was reading a really good book, called 'All The Light We Cannot See'. I had been sitting completely still, my head buried in the pages, for 6 whole hours, not even getting up to get food.

No, I wasn't starving myself, I was actually super duper hungry, but every time, I would tell myself 'I'll eat when I'm done with this chapter', but currently, I realized that it was almost impossible to willingly set down the book.

Hearing a knock on the door, I reluctantly placed the green bookworm book mark in the book.

A couple of moments later, a flurry of red hair dashed into the room, a wild and excited expression on her face.

"Get dressed, we're going clubbing," she smirked.

"Amber, I think you know my answer," I sighed.

"Aw, c'mon!" she pouted, "You've been reading the whole day."

"I have no shame," I shrugged.

She sat down at the edge of my red bed as her expression turned serious.

"Clare, you haven't been out of my apartment ever since you came here running last month."

I bit my lip at the sour memory. It was not one that I wished to recall often, but did, despite myself.

I simply didn't want to go out, because without Michael's care and protection, I was scared to go outside. I had no one to take care of my fears and handle them.

But I didn't want to say that.

"I know," I simply replied.

She scoffed, "Don't tell me that you plan on spending the rest of your life cooped up in an average-sized New York apartment."

"It's cozy," I argued.

She grabbed my shoulders to keep her fierce emerald eyes level with my dull blue ones.

"You're going clubbing with me tonight, because if you don't, I swear on my dead ol' Grandpa's grave I will burn every single goddamn book in your possession, end of discussion," she stated firmly.

I stared at her horrified. What the fuck?!

For a few minutes, it was just a classic stare down, before I finally gave up with a huff.

"Fine, but you're going to lend me a dress."

She squealed happily, before throwing her arms around me and kissing my cheek. I patted her frizzy mane of hair awkwardly.

"You won't regret this, I promise," she giggled.

I smiled at her, "Hopefully," I joked.

She sent me a playful glare, before merrily skipping off to her room, and I decided to finish the book, seeing as I had only 65 pages left.

Half an hour later of pure relaxation, I walked into her room, whose door was open.

She was, as expected, skimming through her massive wardrobe, which took up maybe 3/4 of her already tiny room.

"Oh hey, Clare," she said, not lifting her head from the clothes hangers.

"How did you know I was coming?"