10• Spill the Motherfucking Piping Hot Tea
FOR a moment, the butterscotch creamer that Alex was pouring into her iced coffee really messed with my head. The mystery girl had just told me days ago how she tried butterscotch creamer for the first time and it was her new favorite. So when I went back outside, I decided to text her.
Jesse: What are you up to?
While I waited for her response, I wasn't sure what I was expecting to get out of it. It's not like she was gonna text back and say, Oh yeah, I'm hiding out in my room because the entire boy's basketball team is at my house. I stood outside next to some of the other guys while they talked, but I couldn't really tell what they were talking about. That's how in-my-head I was. But then again... over half of the girls in the school drink coffee and probably like the flavor butterscotch. I was just reading into this way too much.
It kind of felt like I was searching for reasons to find my mystery girl and know who she was in person. Even though we agreed to stay anonymous, I couldn't help my curiosity.
Mystery Girl: I'm at a sustainability festival.
There was a picture attached of some festival and I clicked on it to get a better look.
See, you stupid? She's not the mystery girl just because she drinks coffee.
Now that I'd started a conversation, I decided to say something else.
Jesse: Look at you being all sustainable. If only I was that environmentally friendly... My girlfriend would probably like me more.
Mystery Girl: Oof, you talk about your girlfriend like she absolutely hates you.
Jesse: Because she does hate me UNITL she decides to love me again.
Mystery Girl: Sounds healthy.
I put my phone back in my pocket right as DeShawn said my name to get my attention. I looked over at him and walked towards him, Zach, and one of the new additions to our team this year, an Australian guy named Alexander who was a junior transfer from Australia (obviously).
"What?" I said.
"Tyler looks like he's about to murder you or something," DeShawn said, nodding behind me. I slowly turned and saw Tyler standing over by some of the other guys, glaring at me. I turned back to DeShawn and the others, confused.
"Um, that's weird," I said. "I don't know why he would want to kill me."
"Maybe cause you're taking a crack at his sister," Alexander suggested.
"I'm not taking a 'crack' at Alex, she's my lab partner," I said. "We're not even friends, just... acquaintances who sometimes have a class together."
"So you going inside to talk to her isn't flirting?" Alexander asked.
"He has a girlfriend," Zach told him since Alexander probably didn't know that, as he really had just moved here a week or so ago. "Not flirting, but being very friendly."
"Cause I'm a friendly guy," I defended.
"All I'm saying is that if Tyler looks that angry at you for talking to his sister for, like, one minute... imagine how angry he'd get if you two were actually friends," Zach said.
"Or if he saw how you and Alex interact in biotech," DeShawn said. "I'm in that class, too. I sit right behind you guys and there's always something going on."
"I'm not scared of Tyler, guys. He couldn't do anything to me," I said, shaking my head as I looked back over my shoulder at Tyler again. Still glaring at me.
Jesus, dude needs to lighten up.
♡♡♡
Usually arriving home, I would immediately head to the basement and grab a Coke from the mini fridge, then sit down to either play some video games or watch something on TV. I was really looking forward to playing some GTA 5, but when I got home, there was noise coming from the kitchen. There was never noise coming from my house unless the kinfolk were home.
"Marcus, Karen," I greeted my parents as I walked into the kitchen. Of course, no cooking was going on. They were just standing in the kitchen sipping wine. I could hear someone upstairs in their room moving around, probably re-packing their suitcases for them with new clothes for yet another business trip.
"Well, if it isn't our lovely son," my dad said. "Home so soon?"
"It's only 11," I said. "Not like it matters what time I get home, anyway, since I'm always the only one here. I should be the one saying well, if it isn't my lovely parents!"
"We've really missed your humor," my mom said, rolling her eyes.
"So, how long are you home for? Another couple of hours?" I asked, not laying down on the sarcasm and annoyance in my voice.
"Try 10 more minutes. We have a plane to catch and a meeting in DC with the mayor," my dad said.
"10 whole minutes. I'm so lucky."
"You are lucky to see us, we're busy people, Jesse," my mom retorted. "If you had only gotten involved with your father's mayorial duties, you would be traveling with us."
"And why would I have done that? To inflict self-torture on myself? No thank you," I said.
When my dad became the mayor, he kept trying to get me to come with him to meetings and business trips with him. He always thought that if I came with, I would become inspired to follow in his footsteps and someday become the mayor. Except that wasn't what I wanted even in the slightest bit. The pure thought of being mayor made me want to throw up and also made me shiver. I passed on the opportunity, but my parents still held it against me, what with both of them being very involved in the political community in Newport. I, however, could care less.
"And he wonders why we're never home. We're busy providing for this family, Jesse. How are you expecting to provide for your future family? Basketball?" My dad huffed.
"I work my ass off to be good at basketball, I expect a scholarship," I replied. "I work my ass off to prove to both of you that I don't need to be the goddamn mayor to be successful."
"You think that now," my dad said. "You think you work your ass off, but I doubt it. You want to know what working your ass off really is? It's what I do. Not you, a foolish high school child who truly believes that you will amount to anything when it comes to some dumb sport."
My jaw clenched, but I couldn't get another word in before my parents assistant came down with their bags. "We have to go work our assess off. Do enjoy your parties and your ridiculous hopes and dreams while we're gone, though," my dad said, getting in the final word before they once again disappeared.
If there was one thing I could praise my parents for being good at, it was leaving.
The anger inside of me raged and I didn't stop myself from screaming out and kicking one of the stools at the counter, sending it falling and slamming on the hardwood floor. I hoped that the impact created a dent on the floor, a dent that my parents would have to pay to get fixed. I could burn the whole house down to put them in debt if only I knew I wouldn't go to jail. Even then, they likely wouldn't go into debt. Stupid fucking mayor.
I sat down on the floor. Sometimes the floor is the most comfortable place to sit, especially when it's time for a mental breakdown. And I could feel a mental breakdown coming on, so the floor became my sanctuary.
My parents had always paid for my basketball club teams and for private lessons, but it was when I started getting invested in the sport more than anything else that they started to despise it. Not only did they begin to hate the sport, they began to hate me for loving it. They urged me to quit many times in order to come to business meetings and trips with them, to see how the political world worked and what it was like. They hoped (and probably prayed) that I would "come to my senses" and give up basketball to join them in their political cult of a world that they lived in. Over my dead body. The only time I'd gone to a meeting with them, I hated it the entire time. I fidgeted with pens and sticky notes and anything in sight just to keep myself occupied out of the pure boredom that I felt.
Stupid fucking mayor.
I pulled out my phone from my pocket and clicked on the messages app. I'd never been able to tell anyone about my parents behavior or complain to anyone before, not even Hannah. Hannah was the worst listener and the best narcissist. But now as I saw the contact I'd come to enjoy the most, I said screw it and decided to text the mystery girl.
Jesse: Okay. I need someone to confide in and rant to and I quite frankly have nobody who I can trust. I don't know you, but I like talking to you and I feel like this is something we could do. I feel like we could confide in each other if we needed to. Is that okay?
I sighed and rested my head on the back of the sofa I was sitting against. Maybe it was a mistake to text her. Maybe I shouldn't be burdening her with my daddy issues and fucked up life. We didn't even know each other, how could I assume that she would actually give a shit? Stupid, stupid, stupid...
My phone buzzed.
Mystery Girl: Tell me all about your problems, mystery boy. Spill the motherfucking piping hot tea.
I couldn't imagine getting a better response.
♡♡♡
When the mystery guy said he was going to confide in me, I was expecting him to complain about a more minuscule problem. Like relationship issues with his seemingly awful girlfriend or some sort of drama. What I didn't expect was a full-fledged rant on how his parents continuously yelled at him and got mad at him for participating in the sport he plays and not "the family business". He didn't tell me what sport or what the family business was, he said that would give away his identity. Tell me why I really wanted him to tell me so that I could know who he was. It was only slightly eating at me, but I was so damn curious. Who was this mystery boy? The mystery boy with the cheerleader girlfriend and all the problems?
I didn't mind reading all of his problems, though. I'd always been good at giving moral support or little bits of advice, especially over text. It was no different with the mystery boy except for the fact that he was just that: a mystery.
Mystery Vandaliser: And then my parents said I wouldn't amount to anything. How fucked up is that?
Alex: It's extremely fucked up.
It was pretty late at this point, though he'd texted me around 10:30. It was now almost 1 in the morning and usually, I would be getting ready to do some Saturday-night-impulsive-cleaning of my room. However, I was laying on my floor under my fuzziest grey blanket with my laptop paused on the screen of Noah Centineo's face, as I'd been watching To All The Boys I've Loved Before on Netflix prior to the mystery guy deciding to text me. And now I was just laying here texting him, every-so-often looking towards the corner of my small room by my closet where a billion clothes were laying on the ground. I'd been piling it up all week and it was really bugging the living shit out of me. I would be cleaning it up right now if the mystery guy wasn't giving me a good reason to procrastinate.
He was also giving me a good reason to get another cup of coffee.
Mystery Vandaliser: I know that we don't know each other, I'm sorry for piling all of my issues on you.
Alex: Don't apologize, I don't mind reading your long texts about your problems. I'm an avid supporter of venting.
Mystery Vandaliser: Do you actually like talking to me or do you just do it cause you're bored?
Alex: Where did your lack of confidence come from? This is not the confident and cocky mystery guy that I've come to know.
Mystery Vandaliser: Do you hate me? I'm texting you too much and it's annoying, you probably have other things that you have to do that are piling up.
I eyed my large pile of clothes.
Alex: You have no idea the pile in the corner of my bedroom.
Mystery Vandaliser: I'm serious, I don't want to burden you.
This mystery guy was seriously way more insecure than I thought at first. Just the other day he was calling me a piece of shit and now he was doing the real-life equivalent of crying and spilling your feelings to a friend, except over text. And to a complete stranger. He didn't know me and I didn't know him, but he was pouring his heart out to me and now he's seeking validation. I felt bad, but I had an idea of how I might be able to lift his spirits.
Alex: You're not burdening me. Here, let me cheer you up with my amazing skills. I can sing, I can draw, or I can make you the best-iced coffee you'll ever drink.
Mystery Vandaliser: You can't drink iced coffee through a phone.
Alex: Touche, so would you like a serenade or a drawing?
I didn't consider myself the most amazing singer on the planet, but I'd done choir all throughout high school until this year. Not to mention, I'd performed the National Anthem once at my brother's club basketball game (which was unbelievable terrifying). My choir teachers always told me that I was good and that I should take lessons to become a great singer. But my heart was always more attached to art and drawing rather than singing. Singing was just a fun thing to do in the shower.
Mystery Vandaliser: How are you planning to serenade me?
Alex: So a serenade it is... I'll send you a voice memo obviously.
Mystery Vandaliser: And what will you be singing? Do I get to choose?
Alex: You do not get to choose! The serenader has to choose the song, it must come from my heart, Mr. Mystery. Just sit back and wait patiently.
Mystery Vandaliser: I'm impatient.
I rolled my eyes and opened up my voice memos. I had my go-to serenade song already planned out. I'd had it planned out for years for literally no reason at all. Maybe at the off chance that some hot guy would come into my life at an open-mic-night and hit on me, so then I would get to whip out my pure seduction skills and serenade him.
This wasn't how I expected my first serenade to be, but I'd take it.
So I pressed record and started singing I Want To Write You A Song by One Direction. The best option for a serenading song I could've thought of. I loved a good One Direction song, especially a good old romantic love song. So I sang it quiet enough that I wouldn't wake my brother up in the next room (he would get pissy with me for singing at almost 2 in the morning), but loud enough that it would pick up on the voice memo so that the mystery boy could hear me. I wasn't sure that being serenaded would actually make him feel better, but on the off chance that it would, then the least I could do was try. Even if he replied saying how awful of a singer I was.
I clicked send and then laid back on the floor, waiting for a reply.
When my phone finally buzzed, I sat up fast and grabbed it.
Mystery Vandaliser: I've never been serenaded before, but you just stole my heart, mystery girl.
Mystery Vandaliser: Congrats, you cheered me up. What would I do without you?
♡♡♡