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There he was, standing on my front door step. Curls and all. I looked up at Mr. Styles with my mouth practically hitting the floor. Okay, maybe he is actually stalking me.
“Oh my God,” I think I heard him say. Or was it me? I can’t really think straight right now, as I definitely saw the same girl from the movies the other night latched onto his arm.
“Um, not to be rude or anything, but what the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him, wondering why a teacher is at a students house for a party.
“U-h uh, well, my friend from college invited me to a party, said it was sick, and I had no idea it was a high school one, especially yours… Um, we should leave,” He said, turning towards that clingy girl, who immediately started whining, “Nooo, I did not just spend the last hour and a half getting ready so we can come here and leave. So what if it’s a high school party? Louis is here, so it can’t be half bad.”
The sound of her voice literally made me want to invest in some ear plugs just to have in case she ever came around me again.
Mr. Styles leaned a little closer to her and started whispering in what sounded like a pretty heated whisper argument.
I rolled my eyes, “Jesus, just stay, I don’t care. Nobody’s gonna rat you out, Mr. Styles. Go help yourself to some punch,” I gestured to the punch bowl and the girl next to him fake smiled at me, to which I returned the fake smile back.
“No, I really think we should get going, this is highly inappropriate,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does. Screechy wasn’t having it though, as she pulled his arm and dragged him to the kitchen and practically forced him to pour her a cup of punch.
And by forced, I literally mean forced. She grabbed his hand and did the pouring herself, using her hand. It was completely ridiculous, why not just pour it yourself if you’re going to go through all of that effort?
I had a feeling she’d be faking drunk in the next half hour so I decided to go look for Scottie again so we can laugh at her together.
And so I can ignore the small pang of jealousy I felt when I saw them together.
Luckily enough, I found Scottie sitting on the couch that we were both sat in before we saw Hunter. Scottie was right next to the arm rest and Hunter was squeezed in next to Scottie. Next to Hunter was a couple making out and I smiled to myself when I saw him lean toward Scottie to get away from them. Progress.
I decided to sit on the arm rest of the couch next to Scottie and when I did he looked up at me with a big grin.
“I was wondering where you went. Damn, it took you a good 20 minutes to go to the bathroom,” he said, although I know it was all for show. He knows that I didn’t really go to the bathroom, but Hunter didn’t.
“Yeah sorry, but I’m back now. What’d I miss?” I asked, but I knew nothing interesting had happened in my absence. Nothing ever does.
“Nothing, but,” he said, emphasizing the t, “You did miss out on this girl who was so ‘drunk’,” cue air quotes around drunk, “She fell onto this couple making out, who just so happened to be her ex boyfriend and ex best friend, and they got into a fight and started ripping hair and throwing punches and the ex boyfriend had to escort them both out, so there’s that.”
I laughed and shook my head, “Damn, why do I always miss the good stuff?”
He shrugged and laughed with me. At this point, Hunter seemed kind of uncomfortable. I don’t think he really knows how to act around me now that I rejected him.