River, you truly are a dickhead.
Yes, yes you are. A big one.
I climb down the stairs in shock of what I've just said to Lea. How stupid can I get? I should be the ultimate person who knows girl-kind the best, and you do not (I repeat, do not) talk to them degradingly.
Why was I the biggest asshole just now? Fuck knows.
Maybe I wanted to get a reaction out of her? I honestly don't know.
River, man. Why the fuck did you say that to her?
Once I reach the hallway, I'm too sidetracked by my thoughts to pay attention to where my feet are taking me until I find myself in the kitchen. In the middle of the black and white checkered flooring stands a rectangularly shaped island, sink grooved into its countertop. Without properly thinking about what my hands are doing, I open the tap and watch the cold water pour and splash onto the marble below it.
You're an idiot, River.
Pumping soap out of the dispenser to the right of the tap, I rub it into my hands and hold them under the water. Just to make matters even worse, the terrible headache I woke up with this morning continues to thump. I have a lot of things to worry about, now I have to add Lea to the list.
Speaking of the devil, I hear the faintest of footsteps round the corner of the hallway and enter the kitchen. Quickly, my eyes flicker to her face as she enters through the arched kitchen door, staring around the room in curiosity. Her wandering head finally becomes in line with mine.
"Oh..." She says, a little confusion ringing in her voice. "I got...a bit lost...I swear this was the way to the dining room?" She questions.
I can't help but laugh at her uncertainty. As I watch her now, she seems like a lost infant, and I'm glad it makes me smile, because after what I've just said to her in the guestroom, I feel like an ass.
By habit, she crosses her arms over her chest, which I've gathered is a defense mechanism. However, maybe she doesn't realise how it enhances her...chest area. Coughing, I make sure to keep my eyes on hers, instead of wandering to other places.
"I don't know why your laughing, River." She says bluntly.
Yes, she's definitely pissed.
You're an idiot, River. Let's see how many times I can say it.
"I'm laughing because I find you funny," I reply.
"I'm glad I amuse you," she speaks in a monotone.
"What do you want from the dining room anyway?" I question, trying to bring her out of the bad mood.
"Nothing, I just felt like exploring," she explains, tightening her folded arms over her chest.
Lea don't do that please.
Luckily for my decency, she has changed out of her revealing pajamas, though the tight V-neck top she's now wearing still leaves little to the imagination.
"I can give you a tour of the house if you want." I offer her genuinely.
"Uhm, I'll pass." She chuckles, showing absolutely no humor in her voice whatsoever.
She's still pissed, and awkwardly standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Are you going to keep exploring, or shall I say, getting lost?" Her eyes narrow sharply at that comment. "Or are you going to help me cook?" I push my hands off of the countertop in the middle of the kitchen, to regain my six-foot height.
YOU ARE READING
Mr. Popular and ITeen Fiction
"You and I both know that any girl would kill to be in your position, with me, right now." He smirks, knowing that what he's said is completely and utterly true. Lea Wilson and River Parker don't mix; they don't like the same things, their lives are...