I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE BUT OMG I HAVE TESTING THIS WEEK AND I'M GOING TO HAVE TESTING AGAIN NEXT WEEK SO PLEASE BEAR WITH ME! AND IF SOME OF YOU GUYS GET CONFUSED, YES THE LAST PART IS IN THIRD PERSON! LMAO IT'S ALMOST 3AM AND I NEED TO BE UP AT 6AM I LOVE YOU GUYS BYE
******
Carter’s words begin to drone out the more I shift my attention over to the figure behind him seated on the polished hardwood floors. She has been staring at me for the longest and it is annoying to say the least. Both of our eyes lock with one another for a couple of seconds and it leaves me utterly confused and annoyed. Her caked up face, mascara-ridden eyelashes, and her skimpy clothing is enough to make any barf up their last meal. She probably looks like death without any makeup on.
Without thinking twice, I stick my middle finger up at her and shoot a glare in her direction as well. The thing she does next completely baffles me: she smiles. It was not one of on friendly side, the whole smile drawn onto her lips scream deception. I guess my assumptions about her after all are correct. She is definitely a psychotic person who needs to be inside of a mental institution as soon as possible.
Poor girl.
“What are you staring at?” Carter asks, bringing me back into reality. He looks at me genuinely curious while waiting for a response.
Shrugging both of my shoulders, I let a fake smile place itself on my lips. “Nothing in particular, I just zoned out for a second back there. What were you saying before?”
“I wanted to know what you were planning on doing for the holidays.” He says.
“You already know how I always spend the holidays alone, right?” I ask and he nods signaling for me to continue. “Well, my parents decided on staying this year for once surprisingly which is absolutely amazing. Moreover, we are just going to spend it together as family along with Harry: opening presents, watching movies, and eating. I know it sounds cliché and all, but it is all I’ve ever wanted. What about yourself and your family?” I ask, smiling softly. I did not find any reason to tell him about what I was planning on doing after Christmas only because I didn’t want to come off as boasting. It would’ve been rude of me in a sense. Best friend or not, I wouldn’t want someone to come up to me bragging about how they’re going to a huge ass party next week when I’m not invited. I think anyone would feel like shit in some situations.
“London, I thought I already told you that I’m not up here with my parents. I’m living with my uncle.” Carter says before rolling his eyes.
“No you didn’t?” I say and my eyebrows knit together. I’m pretty good at remembering things and I don’t recall him telling me that. Either I forgot or he’s lying to me, which I highly doubt.
“Yes I did.”
“Well then why did you leave?” I ask and a sigh leaves his mouth.
“My parents were all up on my ass for coming home late almost every night and it was starting to piss me off. I guess they were getting fed up with my behavior because I came home from school one day to see all of my stuff packed up with them waiting at the door with a plane ticket. They claimed that they were tired of my shit and that I was disregarding their rules and regulations so I came here to live with my uncle, who happily took me in.,” he says before smiling. “And to answer your question, we’re not really doing anything special. We didn’t even put up our tree up yet! ” he exclaims and I laugh.
“I’m not one to speak but that’s horrible! We’re putting ours up today and you should do it today with your uncle! After all, it is less than a week away from Christmas!” I say and my hand reaches out and smacks his arm playfully.
About thirty minutes or so into us fooling around in gym with one another, Carter moves his neck over to the side briefly and slips his big hand inside the neckline of his muscle shirt before scratching his back. I stare over at him amusingly before my face contorts up into one of disgust once I catch glimpse of the various markings on his skin. I suppress myself from gagging at the sight of them and peer at my nails instead.
I’d be lying I was to say that I’m happy for them because I’m not. I don’t even know what they are but I want it to go away and never return. She’s no good for him and I’m pissed off that they even share a weird connection with one another. My hatred for her is thriving.
Three ear-splitting whistles sound throughout the area in which all the scattered students reside—talking amongst each other, doing yoga, and playing basketball—and I find myself inwardly cringing at the annoying sound on the bleachers. Majority of everyone turns to look at her, giving her their undivided attention. “There’s seven minutes until the period is over. Go get changed.”
She drops the whistle from her loose grasp and lets it fall freely against her light pink cotton shirt before retreating off. I’m quite astounded at the fact that I literally did nothing this whole period but just talk with Carter. I just hope she lets us do want me want for the rest of the week. I don’t feel like exercising and doing any activities.
Standing up from my once seated position, I cautiously walk down each set of bleachers gradually until I’m almost ground level. Just as I had somehow expected, my foot skips one of the mustard colored benches and a low shriek leaves from my mouth as the pit of my stomach drops to the bottom. I can already feel my body lurching forward and I initially start to close my eyes, as if bracing for the fall. When it doesn’t come after a couple of seconds, I reopen them and realize that both of Carter’s hands are around my shoulder, stabilizing me.
He chuckles from behind me before removing his hands slowly. “Yep, you’re still the same klutz I’ve known for years.” He teases.
This is why I should have walked down the stairs instead. I’ve never went up or down a set of bleachers without wobbling and losing my balance. Maybe my equilibrium is off or something or I really am the clumsy person everyone claims I am. However, I’ve gotten better over the years, if I must admit. I literally use to stumble over air when I was younger.
I guess you can say I experience my episodes occasionally.
“Oh, shut up! That was an accident and I wouldn’t of have tripped if that bench didn’t get in the way.” I say while walking alongside him.
“Correct me if I’m mistaken but you’re trying to imply that the bench mysteriously got in your way the moment you went to take a step?” he says and I nod my head up and down.
“Yes, that is exactly want I’m saying. That bench purposely got in the way and I almost died!” I say and I try my hardest to keep a straight face but a grin breaks out on my face and an obnoxious laugh comes out afterwards.
He shakes his head at me amusingly before we both part our own ways and stroll towards our designated locker rooms. It takes me about a minute or so to reach the two doors and I finally push my way through it. Almost immediately, the various aromas of body mists overtake my sense of smell, making me scrunch my nose up. I hate when people bathe in their body sprays.
Brushing the topic off, I retrieve my stuff from my locker and place it on the bench behind me. I lazily pull my shirt over my head and take my pants off afterwards when all of a sudden I hear snickering coming from behind me when I go to grab my skirt from the bench.
“Nice panties, London!” an all too familiar whiney bitchy voice says when I turn around. My eyes narrow at her as the smirks spreads further across her face. “Who got those for you? Your grandmother or did you pick them out yourself seeing that you have no type of style whatsoever?” she asks, earning a chuckle from one of her friends and the attention from some bystanders.
“Oh, you like them?” I say while grinning. I twirl around in place, giving her a whole 360 view and a little ass shaking at the end, which earns laughter. “These,” my fingers gesture to the fabric adorning my hips. “Are called hipsters since you probably haven’t seen these before or any type of underwear for that matter. Moreover, to answer your question, your ex got these for me and I’ll make it my personal business to tell him about your admiration for them.”
“Are trying to be sarcastic because it really isn’t working for you?” she asks while placing her manicured fingernails on her hip.
“Of course not!” I say after fake gasping and bringing my hand up to my chest overdramatically. “What would ever make you perceive such an absurd assumption about me?”
She glares at me for a couple more seconds before huffing and storming out of the locker room with her friends following behind.
I roll my eyes at their retreating figures before chuckling. “What a stupid bitch.”
****
Harry’s POV
Gemma looks at me with a smug smile glued onto her face and I glare at her annoyingly. We’ve been outside of this store the longest and she still won’t agree to what I’m asking her to do. Her arms cross under her chest and I roll my eyes.
“Can you please do it for me?” I ask for the millionth time and she glances through the glass windows of the store smiling.
“No. If I were to do it, there wouldn’t be sentimental value for the gift. Correct me if I’m wrong but most girls love when a guy does something for them from the heart.” She says and I scoff.
A mass amount of people walk past us and I’m dreading that I even decided on coming today. I should have been smart and got her gifts earlier but I waited to the last minute and the mall is excessively crowded. I thought that taking my own sister with me would be beneficial but that completely backfired. She helped me with shit the whole time we’ve been here by buying things for her and window-shopping as if she had a care in the world.
“But you’re a girl and they’re all into this makeup shit so you can relate better than I can. Besides, it’s not as if she’ll even know if you were to pick them out anyways. I’m giving it to her, not you.”
“What are you, scared to go in there by yourself?” she teases and I glare at her.
“Gemma, just shut the fuck up and come on. I don’t want to hear you speak anymore.” I say while shoving my way through the crowd. I try my hardest not to curse at her but she just pissed me off to an extremity right now. Being scared and finding something uncomfortable doing are two different things that she doesn’t seem to realize.
We step foot into the store and the music blaring from all directions is already setting me on edge. I look around the spacious area and proceed in the direction I think the lip-glosses are. I’ve never see soo many women sitting down and getting their face painted before in my life. They all look crazy as well as the workers here dressed all in black.
My fingers skim along some of them displayed and I pick up one that looks decent. Twisting the cap off, I inspect the color and smear the color onto the mirror when no one’s looking. It’s kind of beige and I think that it’ll look nice on her lips. I turn the thing upside down to see the name of it and I shake my head when I read the fine print saying “Boy Bait”.
I’m not getting that for her.
“Do you need any help there, sexy?” a voice purrs into my ear and I step back away immediately.
I look ahead at a guy, maybe in his early twenties, standing in front of me smiling with his bottom lip in between his teeth before clearing my throat. I can’t believe he’s wearing makeup too.
“No, I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure?” he asks and I stop myself from glaring at him. “Your friend over there said you needed help trying to pick out a couple of lip-glosses for your boyfriend.” He points behind me and I see Gemma staring directly over at us with a smirk. She sends a wink my way. I’m guessing this is her payback for me cursing at her.
I feel my skin crawl when he places his hand on my bicep and squeezes. “It’s okay, I know you feel. I wish my boyfriend would do things like this for me. He must be a lucky guy.”
Somebody fucking help me.
*****
“London, get down here! The pizza is here!” my mom’s voice says from downstairs.
I huff and climb out the bed and make my way down the stairs annoyed. Just when I was about to take a nap, magically my parents need me. However, I shouldn’t be soo upset at the moment, they ordered pizza and I could use a couple of slices to make me feel better. I walk past the dining room and enter the kitchen in which both of my parents are waiting.
“So where’s the pizza?” I ask while taking a seat at the table.
They both exchanged glances before looking back at me. “There is no pizza.” My dad says and it feels as if my heart was sliced in half with a knife. The smile on my face disappears and I look at them both exasperated before standing up from my feet.
“Are you serious? That’s not even funny! I was looking forward to eating something before I took a nap.” I say.
How could my own parents play me like that? It should be the other way around, not like this. What I’m experiencing right now is that sadness and anger you feel when someone eats something you told him or her not to. Or perhaps waking up and finding out the food, you saved from last night, had been demolished by someone else. It’s not a pleasant feeling
Both of them get up from their seats and my dad slings his arm around my shoulder as we walk into the living room. “We didn’t know what else to say to get your attention. Just calm down, if you weren’t soo much of a hurry to eat, you would’ve realized that we have the tree up and we were waiting for you to help us decorate it.” he says.
I’m still mad at them but the sight of the tree shimmering in the room warms my heart up. My dad grasps the box full of ornaments off the floor and places it on a table beside us. Each of us starts decorating the tree with colorful decorations and we would occasionally bump into one another. I always hated having a white tree but I’ve grown to like it as the years pass by. I guess the color contrast makes it pop out more verses having an evergreen tree. I honestly don’t know, but the only thing I hate about having a fake tree is that it always leaves nicks and cuts on my arms whenever we take it down.
My dad’s long arm extends forward and places the star on top of the tree and I stare in awe at the masterpiece.
After we’re done with the tree and everything, they finally ordered the pizza. I still don’t know why they just didn’t order the pizza beforehand like any normal person would have done. This family is so dysfunctional.
I take a big ass bite out of my pizza and sigh in satisfaction. I wonder if the workers at Pizza Hut get to eat free pizza on break because I wouldn’t’ mind considering that job.
“So London, how’s Harry doing?” my mom asks. She looks at me as she takes a drink from her soda and I snap from my fantasized state.
“He’s doing fine. He didn’t come to school today though. He said he wasn’t feeling too well so I’m probably going to visit him after dinner.” I say while smiling.
I always miss his stupid self when he’s absent. It’s weird but it’s as if a part of me is missing whenever he isn’t with me and I only feel whole when he’s there. He’s like that one piece of a puzzle that creates a masterpiece after all the long work and dedication pays off. Maybe it’s my mind playing psychological tolls on me but I almost feel depressed when he’s gone. I’m just not exactly able to put into the words the feelings I feel for him when he’s in my presence.
“Really, what’s up with him? Is he okay?” she asks and I nod.
“He has a fever. Although, he said that he’s feeling better now since he’s taken his medicine. But I’m not exactly 100 percent sure, I’ll tell you guys everything after I come back from visiting him.”
“You know, London,” my dad begins while swallowing his food. “Since Harry’s already coming over for Christmas, why not just let him stay the night over on the eve. He’s more than welcome to take one of the guest rooms.” my dad says and mom nods in agreement.
I look at them suspiciously for a few to see if they’re joking and I give up once they don’t alter their facial expressions. “Thanks! I’ll see what he says even though I’m almost positive that he’ll take up on the offer.” I say, a smile spreading across my face.
******
He parks his vehicle in a vacant spot before making his way towards the designated area. His feet pad against the gravely surface and the cool night breeze skims across his face repeatedly throughout his walk. His hand extends forward and pulls open the perfectly cut glass door before he nonchalantly strolls inside in the direction of the receptionist’s counter.
His shoulders sway left to right and he finally comes to an abrupt stop when he nears the desk. The women behind the counter—with hair as dark as night precisely cut to her jawline— glances up with a faint smile at the man.
“Which room, sir?” she kindly asks. Her eyes, as clear as with a tint of blue, rake up and down his body hungrily and she inaudibly hums to herself in approval of the defined abs under his shirt.
“307” he says, voice on edge slightly.
Oh, it’s him, she says to herself. Her red fingernails reach across her desk and she picks up the card that has been sitting there idle for a couple of hours.
She reaches her hand forward and gives the man his card.
“Thank you.” He takes it from her but not before sending a wink in her direction that makes her swoon in her seat.
He turns back around and maneuvers his way through sets of people. He glances down at the watch tapered to his wrist and his strides begin to increase. Almost as if, he’s running late for an appointment. He finger presses the arrow going up and waits patiently for the elevator. It descends from floor 8, making one of his foot tap against the marbled floor in aggravation at the slowness of the elevation. After a long awaited time, the elevator doors finally slide open , having people exiting out in business attire, he curtly nods to them before making his way inside.
He stares at his reflection briefly and his hand reaches up to fix the collar of his shirt some just in time as the doors spring open.
He walks down the well-lit hallway in quick strides and stops once he nears the door He takes an inhale of breath in seconds before he slips the card into the slot.
The room, practically engulfed by darkness, yet the only faint source of light emitting is from a room in the far back. Knowingly, he follows the pathway while slipping the card back into his pocket.
“You’re late.” The figure seated in the chair out looking the nighttime view of the city says, as soon as he hears him steps foot into the room.
It’s eerie and the only noise coming from inside of the room is the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to them.
He takes a seat across from the figures desk and sighs. He rolls his eyes and the man seated in his chair makes a 180 degree turn before facing him. The figure slides the box to him in a graceful manner before he rests his two elbows on the table.
“Are you sure there are no malfunctions with this thing?” he asks while opening the box up and eyeing it carefully.
The figure shakes his head no. “This is by far the most exquisite thing that I’ve ever seen work without any fault, trust me. The precision of it talks for itself.”
He closes the box back gently before standing up and curtly nodding. “Thank you, sir.”