It's me

Chapter 15

After a long-ass drive me and Noah were standing outside his house. It's not like I imagined it. I thought it would be huge and fancy, like Dylan's house. It wasn't huge, and it wasn't little. The house is a deep brown color and had a beautiful black roof, and big windows, so there's probably a lot of natural lighting inside.

The door didn't even make a little squeaking sound when he opened it. It opened to a narrow and uncomfortable hallway.

"Take your shoes off," Noah demanded without looking at me. I silently obeyed and we walked through the hall. As he opened up the next door I couldn't help but let out a silent wow. I looked around. All the furniture was strategically placed, the walls are a beautiful grey color. This is a dream home. It doesn't look like it is taken right out of a magazine either. I've never seen anything like this.

It's beautiful. I doubt that he placed all of this himself. He can't have that much sense in design and architecture.

Noah was walking around like he didn't even know the place. He looked straight up uncomfortable and awkward. Like it wasn't even his home. The whole thing seems so weird.

"Noah, are you alright?"

"Hmm... oh yeah. I'm fine. It's just that I moved here very recently. I don't know the place too well yet." He answered. He looked around, rubbing his neck.

"Did you decide all of this yourself?" I asked more like a demand than a question.

"No, Dylan did. I guess he's more of an "artist" than me." He rolled his eyes.

"He is." I laugh.

"Haha, yeah, that's really funny isn't it," he spits out.

"Anywaaaay, you get the main guest room. It's the second door on the right if you go back into the hallway we came from." He said while staring down on a letter that on the table.

He started at me and tilted his head.

"You're not going to go check it out?"

Is this guy bipolar or something? The past days he hasn't had the same attitude three damn times. I'm way too tired for his bullshit right now.

...

The room, like the rest of the house, looks nice. The bed isn't as comfortable as my own of course. But, I'll never get it back so it doesn't matter.

...

Sleeping is overrated, man. Not sleeping gets so many other things done. So far I've walked around the house five times, done 50 situps, eaten 5 meals, and it's only 2 am. Noah went to bed a few hours ago, so I have the whole house for myself, which is great. Who doesn't love having to occupy themselves and be busy 24 fucking 7 so they don't fall apart?

Apparently, I do.

"Sabrina, why on earth are you up now, It's early?" Noahs eyes are huge, His eyebrows are making his entire face look like a huge question mark. I really cannot stand this guy.

"It's just 2 am Noah, relax," I snap back at him.

"Sabrina, for God's sake. It's 5 am!" He's staring me up and down, shaking his head.

He abruptly stops, and the color quickly drains from his face.

"You haven't been up all night, right." He whispers.

"Why would I stay up all night anyway, Noah?" I don't want to fucking talk to you is what I should say.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe it's because your house burned down right after you got home from the hospital where you, by the way, got to know that your best friend got shot and might not mak-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP"

"I'M NOT WEAK OKAY?!"

"I never said you were weak, but I do think you're very tired and should go get some rest."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do. I'm exhausted so I'm going to bed"

...

"BUT IT'S NOT BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME TO YOUR WIMP"

"Wimp, actually. You couldn't come up with anything better?"