8: Across Campus

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8: Across Campus

Okay, so I was kind of pissed. I was pissed at Chase for him thinking that going on a date would be the answer to all of our problems. Well, I hated him for trying to forget all of our problems. I knew it was only for a night, but still. My idiotic boyfriend was facing being accused for murder and he wanted to go on a date.

But after going out on the date, laughing, having fun, and enjoying time with Chase I couldn’t be mad. I understood why he did it, and I understood why he needed to do it. It wasn’t just Chase that needed a small break from all this drama, but me too. If I had stayed drowning in it from any second longer I’m pretty sure I would have had a seizure.

So even though I was mad at Chase, I couldn’t blame him. Plus, that new band ‘The Fractured’ was awesome.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I pull off my shoes. My feet immediately bathe in the fresh air, and I fall back on the mattress. Wiggling my toes around I reach into my pocket and pull out of my phone.

Good thing I don’t have class in the morning.

Sitting back up, my eyes scan my bedroom looking for my pyjamas. This morning I had hurriedly took them off, close to running late for an errand, and chucked them in some corner of my bedroom. All I knew about their where-abouts was that they landed on some sort of cupboard, and not the floor.

Finally I spot them. They’re on my dresser, resting on top of my various amounts of perfumes and body sprays. Seriously, I have like 50 different bottles. It’s not my fault, people always get me them for Christmas and Birthdays, everyone seems to think I smell or something.

Standing up I walk over to my pyjamas. I straighten them out, wave them up and down to get rid of any dust, and quickly strip out of clothes and put them on. Then I climb back into bed.

As much as I wanted to do another late night marathon of Supernatural I knew that I should go to sleep. I had long classes coming up soon, and I will need all the sleep I can get. Especially because of this drama that’s going on, and the fact that I can’t write this stupid frigging essay.

Grabbing my phone I call Chase. It’s late at night sure, but he’ll still be awake. The only reason why he’s at home at the moment is because he’s got to finish an essay for class. He told me he might bring just bring it round here on a memory stick and finish it on my laptop, but he didn’t want to disturb me – or keep me up – when he came in.

“Hey,” he says, immediately picking up the phone. “You in bed?”

“Yup!” I reply. “Nice and snuggly. Have you started your essay yet?”

Chase grumbles something under his breath. I don’t know what he said, since he said it too low for me to hear. “No. I just had a quick shower. I swear to Jesus, that girl behind us was spitting in my hair.”

“Chase, you were wearing a beanie.”

“Doesn’t mean anything, germs can spread.”

Laughing, I shift around in bed. “So will you be coming back tonight?”

He sighs. “Not tonight. You’ll distract me too much, and I really need to get this essay done.”

“Fine, fine,” I laugh. “I’ll see you in the morning, right?”

“No, left.”

It goes silent for a minute. All I can hear is the sound of Chase moving things around, and the sound of his breathing. I’m the one that breaks the silence. “Thanks for tonight, by the way,” I say, “It was good to just…forget. Even though I am a little bit pissed about it.”

Chase chuckles. “I wouldn’t expect anything different. Look, I have to go. Someone’s knocking at my door. It’s probably Nate, wondering about how tonight went. Talk to you in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“Nate? It kind of gives me the creeps that you two are so buddy-buddy. Alright. You can make me pancakes. See you in the morning, I love you too.”

“We’ll talk about how Nate and I’s friendship gives you creeps over pancakes that I will be buying not making. Yes, yes, I know that to make the pancakes I’d have to buy the ingredients/mix, but let’s not think into things too much. I will be buying the pancakes from a pancake house. Talk to you later.”

I laugh, and roll my eyes. “Bye, Chase.”

*

Hanging up the phone, I smile slightly to myself. I told Nate that Harley wouldn’t be that mad, that’d she’d forgive me and understand.

Standing up I put on a shirt, and walk over to the front door. I kind of really hated whoever was behind that door since they interrupted the conversation I was having with Harley. It was selfish of me to want more of her time, since I had spent most of the day with her, but I didn’t care. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of her company.

Opening the door, I’m shocked to see who’s on the other side. “Officer?” I questioned.

“Chase Flynn?”

“That’s me,” I said, placing both of my hands in my pockets. I kept it cool, not wanting to seem nervous or fidgety. Not that I needed too, since I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Can I help you?” I peer around him. I see several others standing around me, watching me with serious eyes and blank faces.

“We have a warrant to search your apartment.” A man steps up beside him, and pulls out a piece of paper. My eyes quickly scan it, and I nod.

There was no use me trying to deny them entrance. There was no need for me to deny them entrance. I had nothing in here to hide (other than a few questionable magazines and actions figures).

I open the door wider, and let them all into my apartment. I was glad I had cleaned up this morning, washing all the dishes and hovering. Having a dirty apartment, looking like a slob, wouldn’t do good for their impression of me.

I stand in the middle of the room, my arms crossed as they walk around. They pull draws apart, rummaging through them. They pull several things out, and shake their heads. I even heard one of them, a bald headed, mean looking man, mutter ‘typical teenager’ under his breath.

My mum had taught me to always be polite and welcoming, so I offer them all a cup of tea. My offer gets shut down and I sigh, continuing to watch their movements.

Just when I think the search is over, one decides to get down on the floor and begin to search under my bed. I don’t know why, it’s not like anything can really fit under there.

I was wrong.

The man stands up, pulling something out from under the bed. It’s concealed in a plastic bag, and by the look on his face he knows what it is.

With his gloved hands he opened it. “That’s it. This is the murder weapon.”

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