“Ps-Psycho?” Says a dry, crackling little voice from somewhere beside the bed. His disheveled, dark head slowly peeps up over the edge, exposing only his alarmed forehead lines and utterly panicked eyes. They dart up my frame and survey my equally disturbed expression without blinking.
“What the FUCK is this?”
I swallow. “I…I don’t know…”
It’s quiet and then he gives out a startled yelp. “Holy shit! You’re not wearing any pants!” Then he gasps, “And is that…MY shirt?!”
Sebastian’s outburst makes me look down at myself. I’d already known I wasn’t wearing pants, but…oh shit! Oh my god! A positively massive, bright red, ‘PIRATE’S FOOTBALL’ shirt is swamping me to mid-thigh, practically to my elbows.
I gape down at it in utter bafflement…Oh God…!
Sebastian’s eyes are gone and all I can see is his scruffy head as he’s looking down at himself. “…And I’m in just my boxers.” Comes his response, and we both let out a shuddering breath. My face feels like it’s going to burn off as I gaze at the still indented place where Sebastian had been lying.
Like usual, my immediate reaction to fear and stress is an outburst.
“How the HELL did this happen!!” I shout, and I see Sebastian flinch.
“Like I fucking know!” He immediately shot back, his head popping up over the edge.
“Well you should!” I snap, feeling the impending panic fueling my response. Oh God…Did I…Did we…
He hops up, hands digging into the mattress as he pushes himself to become even with me. “Fuck no I shouldn’t have to!” He snarls back at me, golden-tan eyes alight with frustration. “I shouldn’t be the one to have to fucking remember what the hell happened last night or how the hell this worked out the way it has! Quit blaming me, ya crazy!”
The panic is working its way into my heart beats, thus through my blood stream. Oh shit shit shit. I couldn’t have…no, I couldn’t have…I’m just so muddled…and tired…and panicked! I can’t remember! I didn’t. I wouldn’t’ve! Ever! But…my pants…his shirt…sleeping in the bed…oh God, no, not now, not with…Sebastian!
“Oh God!” I gasp, burying my face in my hands, about to curl into a ball and start hyperventilating. I need a freaking bucket, I’m gonna puke, I’m gonna puke…Shit, shit…Someone just push me out a window and let me splat on the cement or something! Oh good Lord Almighty, I NEED A BUCKET...
I suddenly feel hands on my upper arms and I flinch. Sebastian is looking down at my legs, and I begin to push him away, overwhelmed. “Get away–”
“Just chill for a fucking second, would ya! Look!” He nods downward and I follow his gaze. Whoa.
I am wearing pants!
You would not believe how happy I am to see that I was wearing a pair of ratty, stained cotton shorts.
Seeing those shorts gave me a flashback. My eyes widened. “You…you pantsed me!”
Sebastian’s eyes widen too and he nods his head. “Yeah…I remember that…that was funny…”
“But…”
“What happened…”
“Next?”
We both became quiet as we thought back, burrowing in our minds. I pushed through my memory. He pantsed me. Here. How did he get here? Wait, wait, I drove. Drove us here. From…
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I'm The Geek Who Slapped A Football Player.
Teen Fiction*ALL RIGHTS RESERVED* Clarisse Hornitt is a nerd. Or a geek. But, not your typical nerd/geek, as she won't put up with bullshit and will promptly tell you how it is regardless to how it makes you feel. She manages to get into a physical altercation...
21 - B-Bang?!
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