Terrance King
"Terrance," Stiles says slowly and carefully, like he's trying not to blow up on me. "If you're not going to be honest with me about this, then we're going to have a serious problem."
"I'm telling the truth!" I insist, closing my laptop from where I'm sitting on my bed and meet Stiles' angered eyes. "I didn't eat the pickles!"
Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other holding the empty jar of pickles. "Terrance, I am not in the mood for your lies. You ate my pickles. That's not cool."
"It wasn't me!" I exclaim once again. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because you're Terrance."
I scoff, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Stiles throws the jar of pickles onto his unmade bed, "You know what that's supposed to mean!" Stiles pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, looking genuinely hurt. "I thought we were friends."
"Stiles, I love you like a brother, but I'm seriously debating on sending you away to a mental clinic."
This puts a sudden grin on Stiles' face, his expression totally changing within seconds. "Oh, so what I'm hearing is you love me," he says, waggling his eyebrows.
"Oh my God," I deadpan.
Stiles smirks, "I didn't hear a no."
"Oh my God," I repeat.
"Wow, you're not even trying to deny it," Stiles grins. "It's okay, Terrance, I won't judge. I mean, look at me."
I dramatically gag, causing Stiles to whip a pillow at me. We're quiet for a few moments as Stiles mopes over the empty jar of pickles and I open my laptop to continue my essay, when the sound of my cellphone ringing fills the room.
"Wanna get that for me?" I ask, opening up the document.
Stiles frowns, testing me, "Why should I?"
"Because if you do, I'll declare my secret love for you," I say, not even bothering to look up. I hear Stiles snort but walk to my desk, looking at the caller ID. My head snaps up when I hear the sound of Stiles declining the call.
I frown, looking up from my laptop, "Stiles? Who was that?"
"No one," Stiles says, too quickly.
The phone rings again. Stiles declines the call quickly.
"Stiles," I say slowly, holding out my hand, "Give me my phone."
"Why?" Stiles asks, leaning against the desk, trying to be casual as he once again declines another call. I've realized who has been calling ever since I saw the expression on Stiles' face after the first call. My hands are shaking, but I'm not sure why.
"Because it's my phone," I say, my voice tight.
Stiles declines another incoming call. Muttering a few curses, he turns off the phone altogether.
In a soft voice, I say, "Just give it, Stiles. I know who's calling. There's no point in hiding it."
Reluctantly, Stiles gives me the phone. With wide eyes,he watches as I turn the phone back on and check the call history, just to have my fears confirmed.
"Are you okay?" Stiles asks slowly, eyeing me.
I look up, give him a small smile, and toss the phone aside, turning back to my essay, "Yeah, fine."
Stiles gives me an uncertain look, "You sure?"
I know I have to play it cool. I've been pretty horrible these past few weeks, and if I don't get my act together, Stiles is going to force me back to therapy. I can't have that. I force my smile to grow wider and say, "I'm fine, Stiles. Don't worry about it." I close my laptop once again, grabbing my wallet from somewhere underneath the sheets, and my cellphone, pocketing them.
"Where are you going?" he asks as I stand up.
"To find Hannah," I say.
"You can't just leave me!" Stiles exclaims. "Not after you ate my pickles!"
"Love you!" I shout over my shoulder, walking out the door.
I text Hannah to meet me at the Subway, which she happily does, claiming she's been beyond bored all day, which is something no college student should ever experience. Hannah comes down in record time, wearing a pair of Uggs, sweats and a tank top.
"We need to talk," she says as she slides into the booth. I slide her a sand which, raising my eyebrows.
"About?" I prompt.
"As your wing woman-"
"You were serious about that?"
"-It's my duty that you learn how to flirt properly, before I back you up on anything," she claims, looking smug as takes a bite from her sub. "Therefore, get ready for Hannah's dos and don'ts of dating."
I snort, rolling my eyes, taking a bite from own sub. "Alright, lay it on me."
"Don't," she tells me, "Use pick up lines involving polar bears."
I frown, "Polar bears are cute animals. I thought girl's liked cute animals!"
Hannah stares at me for a little in disbelief before saying, "You know what? Scratch that. Don't use any pickup lines. I'm afraid to know what else you have made up in that mixed up head of yours."
"Alright. I'm going to pretend I'm not offended," I say.
"Great. Do compliment the girl."
"Well, obviously," I say, taking a sip from my drink. "I'm not completely new to this, Hannah."
"Considering the amount of times you've gotten rejected, I'd say you may as well be."
I scrunch up my nose from annoyance, making Hannah laugh, She continues with, "Don't approach a girl when you're with a group of people."
"Why not?" I ask.
"She might feel intimidated and pressured if you approach with a huge entourage," Hannah explains, taking a sip of coke. "Do give a girl a sweater if she's cold."
Before I can answer that one, someone yells from the other side of the Subway, "Hey, Hannah!"
I turn my head to see Wade Simmons, a first year student in on a sports scholarship, waving ehusiastically to Hannah. Hannah grins and waves back.
I scrunch up my eyebrows, "Who's that?"
"Wade," she says, "He's in chemistry class."
Wade walks over, smilling brightly to Hannah, repeating, "Hey!"
"Bye," I say. Hannah leans over and swats my arm.
"Ignore him," she laughs. "He's annoying. What's up?"
"Just wanted to see what was going on," he says, way too nicely. He's obviously a crazed serial killer- he's way too nice to be a college student. "My roommate hates me, so I'm kind of a loner."
"Wonder why," I say sarcastically.
"I'm going to throw my drink at you," Hannah warns.
Wade looks in between the two of us, putting his arms up in a surrender, "Hey, I don't mean to intrude. I'll just head back to my dorm. See you at chem, Hannah!"
Wade walks away, and Hannah throws a napkin at me. "Are you serious, Terrance? What did he ever do to you?"
"He exists."
"You don't even know him," Hannah insists.
"And you do?" I counter.
Hannah rubs her forehead, chuckling a little. "Oh my God, Terrance. You're a piece of work."
"You know you love it," I point out. Hannah rolls her eyes again, shivering slightly from the cold. I frown, immediately stripping off my sweatshirt and handing it to her.
Hannah looks back at me, now only in a t shirt, and her lips slowly spread into a grin. "What?" I say as she takes the sweatshirt, slipping it over her tank top. "You said do give a girl a sweater if she's cold."
She raises an eyebrow, snuggling into the sweater that's way too big on her, "Are you flirting with me?"
I smirk, "Please. I'm merely practicing."
Hannah laughs loudly, taking another bite from her sub. "Well, Terrance, you've made a mistake."
I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward, "How so?"
"You're so not getting this sweater back."
HI OMG it's Kelly (: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please vote and leave a commet! Love you all so much; next chapter is Syd's! xoxo