London Fog | school hiatus

Ch. 6

 “Hey,” his voice said, waking me. I opened my eyes to see him laying next to me, his eyes boring into me.

“Yes?”

“What happened last night and why am I here?”

I chuckled. Did he honestly not remember? I guess I was glad for that.

“What time is it?” I asked, avoiding the question.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“You drunk-dialed me and I brought you here because you didn’t want to go back to your house and then you slept on the couch.” That was technically the truth. No embarrassment attached, too, which made it better.

“I remember thinking something was really hilarious last night,” he pondered. Uh-oh. I hope he can’t recall it. “Oh, yeah, you said something about you being--”

“Yep, ha, I did. Thanks, bye,” I said, jumping up and moving into the bathroom. I didn’t need this not this early in the morning. A knock on the door.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised.

“No one would believe you if you did, remember? We did it the first time we met. In your studio, isn’t that what you said? And then you kicked me out?”

“Who told you about that?”

I scoffed. He was not seriously mad about me finding out about that. He said it! I turned on the shower, having no intention of actually getting in, just driving him away. After half an hour, I figured I was safe to leave. I opened the door, almost closing it again when I saw him on my bed, staring at me. My phone was in his hand. Unlocked.

“How’d you get in my phone?” I demanded.

“Funny how irritating it can be when people don’t tell you everything they know, isn’t it?” he said. He was searching for buttons to push.

“Not really,” I answered coolly. “Take it, I’m gonna get a new one soon anyway.”

He raised his eyebrow at me. He looked down at my phone again, deciding to narrate everything he did. “Ah, Twitter. What to tweet? Oh, I know,” he said, tapping the screen. I lunged at the phone, taking him by surprise and snatching the phone from his hands. He then took me by surprise, grabbing my arms and pinning me on the floor.

“Give me the phone back, I wasn’t done,” he breathed.

“It’s my phone,” I pointed out. He stood, nodding. He held out his hand, and I took it, thanking him for helping me up.

He coughed. “Sorry,” he said, “Shouldn’t have, um, tackled you like that, I suppose.”

“It’s okay,” I reply.

“And I’m also sorry I called you a whore behind your back and spreading rumors about you.”

“I forgive you,” I say. “Uh, also, Jen wants to have a game-night, and she wanted to invite you.”

“Oh, yeah, cool. I’m just gonna go back to the house and shower, then,” he told me. I nodded. He walked out of my room. I sat down on my bed, marveling at what just unfolded before he came back into the room, closing the door behind him. I gave him a confused look.

“I wanted to ask you why,” he explained.

It took me a minute to understand what he was talking about before I answered. “It doesn’t sound fun from my end,” I stated bluntly.

“Why not?”

“Um, because when a woman loses her virginity, her hymen is ripped and bleeds all over the bed sheets and that sounds painful. Also, I’m not married, and there’s always a slight possibility that I’ll get pregnant and then I’d have the responsibility of that and,” I said, taking a breath, “then I’d have to push it out or get cut open to deliver it, so you can see where that doesn’t sound like Heaven.”