The lifeguard's sweater

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Clutching on to the pillow for dear life, I slowly get up from the couch. Whoever is on the other side of the door is really struggling to get it open, which makes me think it's a murderer coming to kill me. Then finally I hear a click confirming my worst fear, the murderer got the door to unlock.

The whole thing is going in slow motion. The door is slowly opening, making that creepy squeaky sound. Before I even get a chance to see the person, I chuck the pillow at him or her in a failed attempt to protect myself.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hear someone ask angrily.

Getting a better look at the person I see that it's not a murderer it's... Tristan. That's even worse.

"Sorry, I was protecting myself from who I thought was a murderer." I blabber out, too embarrassed to think of anything else.

"With a pillow?" He asks with a scowl.

Oh look at that, another scowl. That's funny cause I thought this guy was all smiles all the time.

"Um... Well, yeah," I say my face heating up from embarrassment. "Sorry." I add looking down at the floor.

He bursts out laughing.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my entire life." He says between fits of laughter.

"Well, I'm sorry! I was just trying to buy myself a little time so I could run away." I say annoyed.

"Why did you think it was a murderer in the first place?" He asks looking at me.

"I was watching the shining." I tell him, pointing to the TV.

He looks over to where I'm pointing and then back at me.

"Oh!" He says simply, taking in my appearance.

I suddenly remember that I'm in my pyjamas, feeling a bit self-conscious I cross my arms over my chest.

"So how was work?" I ask breaking the awkward silence.

"It was fine." He says, shrugging his shoulders.

"That's good." I say simply.

The realization hits me that I have absolutely no idea what his job is.

"I can't believe you actually just asked me how work was." He says chuckling.

"There isn't really anything else to talk about." I say shrugging.

"Well then maybe that's your cue to stop talking." He says annoyed.

Seriously?! What is this guy, bipolar. Chuckling one minute, annoyed the next.

"Sorry." I say looking at him.

"You say sorry too much." He says, looking back at me.

"Sorry." I say again, not knowing what else to say.

He chuckles going upstairs not bothering to say anything else.

Fine then.

What is it with this guy? I've never met someone so moody. He seriously needs to see someone about that.

I go back to the couch and plop down, pressing play, continuing my movie.

Okay, maybe continuing the movie wasn't the best idea. Grabbing the pillow that I earlier used as a defense mechanism, I hide my face only peeking from time to time.

I snap my head up when the door swings open, two boys walk through the door, one I recognize, Daniel. The other doesn't ring a bell.

"Oh, hey Reese!" Daniel says when he notices me sitting on the couch.