Once I'm completely dressed, I throw the clothes I was wearing in the clothes hamper and pull my hair out of the messy but cute pony Damien attempted and cover my neck with my hair. I usually use my hair as a shield for my face but now I'm going to use it to hide the hickeys. It's also good practice for when I get the keys off my mum.
I get out of the bathroom and halt in my steps at the sight of Damien sitting on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands on the back of his head.
As if sensing me Damien lifts his head off the ground. When he looks me directly in the eye, I feel my heart go suddenly, terrifyingly still.
I swallow hard remembering them on me whilst he was—.
"You ready to go?" He asks, his eyes raking over the length of me, setting off trails of flame wherever they pass.
Wordlessly I nod my head yes but then realise what he meant and shake my head no. "I'm ready to go but not with you."
He checks his phone. "You don't have a coat and it's freezing outside. Not to mention, your hair is still wet, thus giving you a higher chance of getting hypothermia."
I'm thrown off guard. That's an excuse my mother uses.
He stands up. "That's what I thought. Let's go."
He moves for the door but I bombard his way. "No. I'll dry it. Where's your hairdryer?"
"I don't have one," he says dryly.
I blanch. That's clearly a fib. I know I'm not one to talk since I never use a hairdryer because I'm too lazy to so I mostly let it air dry but only when I shower before bed. "Don't lie."
He raises a pierced brow "I'm not."
My brain goes blank, fails to conjure up a good comeback. He notices and smiles. Ugh, I hate him.
Think Hazel. Think. Got it! I give him a big smile. "Well, then it's a good thing I have a high tolerance to the cold." Lie. I'm constantly cold. "Anyways we live in England, it's never not cold here."
"It's minus six point four degrees outside." He holds up his phone to show me and I see he's not lying. It is.
I ignore him and walk out of the bedroom. It doesn't matter. My body is used to England cold and I've endured worse.
Unsurprisingly, he trails after me. "I'll drive you to the train station or bus station, whichever one you're taking. The next bus stop is miles away from here."
Who is he kidding? I've been taking the bus ever since I was thirteen years old, there's always a bus stop around the block everywhere. Apart from the countryside and I don't remember us passing by one on the way here.
"I'll manage, thank you." I grab my medicine, cash and headphones from the kitchen cupboard along with my phone and pocket them.
Moving over to the door, I bend down to slip my feet into my airforces. I'm tying the laces when Damien grabs his shoes and does the same.
I glare up at him through my lashes. "What are you doing?" He's not driving me anywhere. I won't die in the time it takes for a bus to come.
"It's going to get dark soon," is all he responds with then goes back to tying his laces.
"Soon. Not now," I retaliate.
"The temperatures going to drop further then," he retorts.
"Soon," I repeat. It's the only thing I have really.
"Why do you always have to be so difficult?" He straightens with a scowl plastered on his face.
I get out of my kneeling position and square my shoulders. "Because I like being independent, so sue me."
A big part of me wants to say yes and surprisingly it's not because of the freezing temperatures outside and the high risk of me getting a cold. I want to spend some more time with him even if it's a couple of minutes. But if I don't stop myself now, I'll continue to make excuses to spend time with him later.
"The bus stop is five miles away."
I blow out a frustrated breath. "Then I'll get a taxi."
"Why are you always so opposed to getting in a car with me?"
Because of my stupid feelings toward you that I can't seem to understand, and frankly I don't want to. It's why I have to make excuses on top of excuses. I can't ever say that though.
I attempt to shrug in a mindless manner. "I like to be independent." I'm visibly failing to come up with better comebacks.
"It'll take five minutes. Please."
That please almost makes me agree. Almost.
"I said no Damien!" I shout flustered. "N O spells no."
"You're going to get hypothermia!" He shouts back.
I cross my arms over my chest, vigilantly. "Well then it's a good thing ibuprofen and paracetamol exist, isn't it?" I give him a small teasing smile.
"That—."
The sound of a phone going off interrupts Damien. I know it's not mine from the normal ring tone.
Damien reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone. He pulls it out and holds it at an angle so I can't see who it is. Probably because it's a girl and he doesn't want me to feel like crap since he denied me earlier.
"Fuck sake," he curses. He looks up from the phone, anger still simmering in the depths of those emerald greens. He points his phone at me accusingly. "We're not done here, don't go anywhere." He turns to leave but then spins back just as quick and pulls the key out of the door.