LOCKDOWN

Chapter 10

PEYTON'S POV

༻✧༺

I couldn't help but take my frustrations out on Zara. She was always putting her nose where it didn't belong, prying in my business and asking questions that didn't need to be asked. The text I had received was like a punch to the gut and I couldn't help but stare at my phone in anger, gripping it so tightly I'm surprised the screen didn't shatter. After almost two days of not hearing from my family I had finally gotten a text back from my mum saying;

'We're fine.'

She hadn't asked if I was safe, where I was, how I was doing. This text was proof that she genuinely didn't care about me or my well-being unless it directly reflected on her status or reputation. Zara had asked me what was wrong and I snapped, and then she had the audacity to yell at me when I was going through the boxes in my room. If she didn't want me prying in her life, she shouldn't have pried in mine.

I begrudgingly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, finding my towels crumpled on the floor where I had left them the day before. They were still damp and cold, and basically useless. Why hadn't Zara picked them up and put them back on the towel rack like she had for the last two days? I went to the linen closet to get out another towel, but there were none left. I sighed, knowing this meant that I would have to talk to Zara to find out where I could get another towel.

"McMann?" I called down the stairs, but I got no reply.

I muttered under my breath as I made my way down the stairs, the sound of the TV getting louder as I went. I emerged onto the landing and saw Zara standing in front of the TV wearing a sports bra and high waisted leggings. I hated to admit it, but she looked phenomenal. Her body was admittedly perfect, and I hated her for it. It would be much easier to dislike her if she weren't so goddamn beautiful.

"McMann," I got her attention.

"What?" she huffed, not taking her eyes away from the TV screen. She was following some sort of exercise tutorial, copying the stretches that the instructor was doing on the TV.

"I need a towel," I told her.

"I gave you two," she responded, still not looking at me.

"They're wet. I need another one."

"There are none left, they're all in the washing machine," she said stiffly.

"Well, what am I supposed to do then?"

"Maybe you should've hung them up after using them instead of expecting me to do it for you!" she snapped.

"Can you stop treating me like I'm a little kid?" I growled, anger pulsing through my veins. I was sick and tired of her acting like everything I did was a hassle for her. Being here was a hassle for me!

"Well then stop acting like one. I'm not here to run around after you and clean up your mess. I've been picking up your towels for the past two days to make sure they dry. Do it yourself from now on."

"You know what, McMann? Fuck you. You think you're so perfect, with your perfect hair, and your perfect body, and your perfect little group of friends. You think having a clean bathroom is impressive? Well whoop-dee-fucking-doo!" I raised my voice, my hands shaking with rage. I could feel my blood pulsing through me, my heart racing with anger. "Every day you show up to school and get the perfect grades on every test. Even your handwriting is perfect. Maybe if you dislodged the stick up your ass you'd realise you're not so perfect after all!"