Facade Of Perfectionism

Chapter 33~Bite the Bullet

My hands felt clammy under their intense gazes. I should have thought this through. Having a testosterone battle between the two of them was the last thing I wanted. I suck in a deep breath, before forming a few coherent words.

"Niall, I was with him last night, and I didn't realize my battery was dead. It slipped my mind to inform you." I watched the creases smoothing, lifting off a little tension and I continued, "Niall, he is Shawn, my... friend. And Shawn," I turned to him, motioning my hand towards Niall, "He is Niall, my roommate."

"This is Shawn?"

"You live with him?"

They both gasped unitedly.

"Yes and yes. He is 'Shawn' and I share an apartment with him." I answered both of them.

There was a momentary glaring contest between the two boys and I bit my cheek in anticipation.

"I should get going then," Shawn announced and he turned towards me. He sharply pulled me into a hug, tugging his hand around my waist, taking me by surprise.

"I don't like him." He whispered into my ears, leaving an amused grin on my face.

Is he jealous?

"You don't have any reason to," I whispered back.

"I just don't like him." He remarked, pulling out of the hug.

"I'll come back later." He said and took off, got into his seat, and drove off.

I watched until he was out of sight and I turned towards Niall.

"I don't like him." He declared, his expressions annoyed.

"You don't have any reason to."

The irony.

"You liked that douchebag? Seriously?" He raised his eyebrow in mockery.

I glared at him in response and he raised his hands in submission.

"Right, 'don't judge a book by its cover.' But he still is though."

Before I could debate, he walked off into the house, and I sighed in exasperation.

I have a feeling they aren't going to get along that well.

~

After a warm relaxing shower, I decided to go to the balcony and lounge on the white hanging swing chair with red cushions settled into it, providing warmth and comfort as the rays of sun seeped in through the little space the layout of the furniture allowed.

I decided to continue my novel, for which I couldn't seem to find the time to. I continue from where I took off.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it