The sigh I let out as I enter my apartment, is loud and exasperated enough to make my mum lecture me about being lazy and irresponsible, if she were here that is. I can't quite wrap my head around it either, for someone who generally likes learning and going to school, I'm a little too happy about the fact that it's Friday and the first week is finally over. I can finally just sit and watch my sitcoms all day. Get three pounds worth of Slurpees. And hope it snows enough so I can use that as an excuse not to go to school on Monday.
Yep, my mum would definitely sit me at a table for an hour or two to give me life lessons.
I chuck my backpack against a wall, kicking it a couple times so it doesn't topple over before opening the door to the living room. I don't smile, but I can feel my face lighting up when I notice Freya on the couch, her knees against her chest while she stares at her phone. I decide to ignore the frown she has on her face at least until I find out if there's a problem or she's just deep in thought or something.
I clear my throat and fall onto the sofa next to her, watching the side of her face while she's barely even turned her head in my direction. "Hey," I mumble, leaning over to kiss the corner of her mouth, which makes her lift her head and look at me with a blank expression, seemingly surprised to see me here.
"Hi," She greets me back quickly, in a light tone, and tilts her head to the side to peck my lips, her expression brightening just the slightest. "How was school?"
"You know... school," I grin, using the fact that our faces are still really close to kiss her while I can. She pulls away a few seconds later, scratching the back of her neck and looking back at her phone again – and I happen to notice her expression go back to how it was when I first walked in. I wish I hadn't noticed.
I dart my eyes from her to her phone, pushing down the urge to look at what she's looking, and just sigh in the end. "Alright, what happened?"
"What?" My question makes her look up at me again, "What do you mean?"
"Come on, I know that face. I should have a PhD in that face," I tell her, nodding more to myself than her, wanting to cut down the tension among other things. Freya just rolls her eyes – it must be bad since she's not smiling at all. Usually she at least smiles at all of my jokes, no matter how bad they are. That's one of the things I love her for.
"Seriously, tell me," I keep nagging, when she goes back to staring at the screen, clearly with no intention of speaking about what's going on. "Did I do something?"
"No- what? Why'd you even ask that?" She furrows her eyebrows at me, as if my question is out of line – I'm figuring out that she'll only talk to me if I say something bizarre or downright stupid.
"It's usually me," I say casually, nodding again. "You have a gift of finding something wrong with just about everything I say. Doesn't matter if it's good or bad."
I'm not even kidding. I've had her go apeshit over compliments more than anything else.
"Well, I..." Her hand awkwardly goes to the back of her neck again as she trails off, but at least she's started speaking if nothing. "I... talked to Harry today. First time since the birthday party last week."
I nod, feeling better about the situation already, "Okay. What'd you talk about?"
"Uh, well, I asked him if he was serious about moving to Amsterdam or if he was just talking nonsense because he was drunk or high or whatever, and... yeah, things got a little out of hand."
"What do you mean?"
Freya sighs, reluctantly starting to scroll up her messages. "'Yeah, I was serious, don't act like you don't know my reasons for it.' 'Okay, but do you have any other reasons except Kirsten and her safety? If you're gonna move across the world you have to be doing it for yourself too.' 'I do, the economy is better, I'd learn a new language and about their cultures, and it's closer to home. Those are all the reasons I need.' 'What home Harry? This is our home.' 'Don't bullshit me like you don't know where we came from, Freya.' 'It doesn't matter where we came from, home is where the people we love are.' 'I can hear your fake American accent across the city.' 'I'm serious, you have a family here and you're in university, you can't just drop all of that and leave.' 'Shut the fuck up, you ran away from home, haven't contacted your precious fucking family since and you never went to college, you don't get to lecture me about that shit.'"
Her arm falls to the side and when I look up at her face, she's got her brows raised and she's staring straight ahead of herself. "And I never texted back."
I purse my lips, shrugging at the information; I know I wanted her to talk to me about whatever issue she was having, but this wasn't quite what I'd expected. I thought she had an alright relationship with Harry. "Well, uh, he... he's got a mouth on him."
Freya shakes her head, raising her phone in front of her face again. "The worst part is that he's right. I did run away from home, I never contacted anyone except him, and I-I didn't go to college." Weirdly enough, that last fact seems to bother her the most. "And I always used... I always used Craig as an excuse for all of that, but now he's out of the picture and I'm still not doing anything differently."
I keep watching her face, a little saddened by the way she just shrugs and looks down with a look of guilt on her face. "Do you..." I start after a minute, glancing at her lap to place my hand on top of hers, "Do you wanna go to Rockford sometime?"
"Yeah, right." Her sarcastic tone surprises me a little, "And do what? Go to my mother like nothing ever happened? Even if that went well, what would I tell her about my life, huh? That I've done nothing in the past six years other than danced on poles? That I've been with an abusive man and put up with his shit and suffered through it and tolerated it, when she's the one who always taught me to crush everyone who stands in my way?"
She gives me a look that says 'I dare you to speak, but you better not'. "Like hell I wanna go to Rockford sometime."
I sigh and shift in my seat, looking at the coffee table in an attempt to come up with something that would be remotely helpful right now. "Well, if you wanna start college before g-going to your mother, you'll have to wait. I mean it's February, you can't just squeeze in in the middle of the second semester."
"I know that," She tells me, nodding to assure me she's aware of what I'd just told her, but I can't help but notice the look in her eyes; it's like I can almost see a light bulb forming above her head. "And I'm also lacking money for it." She trails off and by now her eyes have widened and dear lord, what did she just come up with?
"Alright," I nod too, deciding to act stupid. "Glad you realize it."
"Yeah. You know what?" She sits up, sliding her feet down the couch so they're on the ground, before turning to me, "It's Friday, so Natasha's gonna need help in the restaurant tonight. Dates and all that, you know?"
I smile a bit, "Okay."
"And I was wondering, maybe I could go down and help her out for a few hours? I could earn some cash and sort of get this college preparation thing going, in a way."
My smile widens, and I raise my hand to her hair to pull a strand behind her ear, "Sounds great, babe. You could also ask to work on Fridays regularly, that'll earn you even more money."
"Yeah," She looks away from me, a smile starting to grow on her face, "That's actually a great idea, I could do that. Thanks." By the end of her sentence she's grinning, and once she stops talking she leans forward to press a hard kiss on my lips. "Thanks for being here for me. Now, I had a veggie burger with onion for lunch, think I'm gonna go brush my teeth."
I laugh against her lips, pecking them one last time. "Okay, you do that." I smile as she stands up, almost salsa-dancing out of the room; I wait until I hear the door of the bathroom close, before licking my lips and standing up, then pulling my phone out of my jeans to dial Seth's number.
"Come on, come on..." I mumble to myself, strolling to the bedroom while waiting for him to answer. Just as I sit at the foot of the bed, with the door opened and a clear view of the door on the other side of the room, the beeping sound is cut off.
"Hello, Mrs. Horan on the phone."
I blink a couple times, needing a few moments to comprehend what he'd just said. "I want a divorce."
"Oh, that was low," Seth laughs, before continuing casually, "What's up, Nialler?"
"Well, one, nobody calls me fucking Nialler anymore," I can't help pointing out, "And two, you're going out tonight, right?"
"Um, yeah? You need anything, the car or..?"
"No, but could you maybe go to the strip club?" I gulp before continuing, "You know, the one Freya used to work at?"
"Yeah." At this point I can hear his confusion too. "Why though?"
"To see if she's gonna be there."
"What? Didn't- didn't she say she was done with-"
"Yeah, well, she's suddenly become determined to get into college this year and she needs money for it and, knowing her, she's ready to do anything for it. Absolutely anything."
"Why don't you just talk to her?" I roll my eyes at his suggestion, "You know, like normal people do."
"She's not normal." Well, there's surely a nicer way I could have put that. "She's either gonna deny it and then do it anyway, or make a huge fucking deal out of it when I ask about it. Either way we'll end up not speaking to each other."
There's silence on the other line for a minute, and I can practically see Seth shaking his head at everything I'm saying. "See, this is why I never have girlfriends, I could never put up with that shit. I mean if you guys can't have a normal conversation then what the hell are y'all doing together?"
Right at the end of his obviously rhetorical question, the door of the living room opens and our eyes meet the second she walks in, so I decide to speed the conversation up a bit. "Well then don't search for your significant other in a strip club. You're gonna go tonight anyway, right?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Great, she's back, gotta hang up. Text me tonight." I raise my voice a little while saying my last sentence, as Freya gets close to the door, and hang up on Seth when she walk in. I look up, slowly and hesitantly when I feel her hands on my shoulders, and then gulp when she lifts her legs to straddle me, casually playing with the collar of my shirt as she sits on my legs.
"Who were you talking to?" She asks quietly, her eyes fixated on her hands on my shirt.
"Seth, he called."
"Why?"
"To ask me if I wanted to go out tonight but I kinda feel like staying in, and... dunno, watching Dawson's Creek or something." Wow, if it turns out she's really going to the restaurant to help Natasha out, I'm gonna be the bigger liar in this relationship.
"Okay," She almost whispers, still doing something with my shirt, not looking like she's look up at me anytime soon. I narrow my eyes and tilt my head to the side; I smell another problem.
"Not sure why, but I don't feel like you believe me," I say, in the lightest tone I can and she just shrugs, lifting her head hesitantly so her eyes would finally meet mine.
"I don't know," She says, shrugging, shifting in my lap so she's sitting an inch closer to the spot I want her to sit on 24/7. "How do I know it wasn't Kassidy, or... someone else?"
Even before the end of her sentence I throw my head back, groaning, but in the same time a little amused; I know she's kidding – I at least hope she is – but I don't doubt she'd go on and mention every girl of my age she knows of. If she knew of any other except the one she mentioned, that is.
"Did you know..." I pause to wrap my arms around her waist, and she instinctively wraps hers around my neck as I roll us over, laying her on the mattress so her head is on one of the pillows. "That, when you have an orgasm, your body releases oxytocin. They call it the 'love hormone'. Helps people bond and build trust."
"Well, considering I know things about parts of the human body other than the brain, yes, I did know that," Freya tells me, in a rather professional tone while I kiss her jaw, having her neck and collarbones as my next destinations. "But now that you've mentioned it, you should be making me orgasm a lot more often than you generally do."
I can't help but laugh against her skin, nipping at her earlobe to contain myself. "All you had to do was say the word and I'd be doing it non-stop, but I'm on it now if it means anything."
"Means a lot," She assures me, breathing out the last word as I unbutton and unzip her jeans, then arches her back so I'd pull them down to her thighs. "And I can always return the favor."
"Oh, no need for that," I tell her as I sit up, to take her jeans off completely, looking her in the eyes while looping my fingers around the legs of the denim material. "I already trust you."
*******
This is probably the first ever episode of Will and Grace that hasn't gotten my full attention; while Jack is telling Karen about ways she could annoy Lorraine, I'm staring at my phone, neatly placed on the coffee table, fighting the urge to either throw it at a wall or throw myself at a wall.
I keep averting my eyes to the TV, but it's of no use. Each time I find myself staring at the constantly black screen of my phone, my leg shaking so much I might as well make a hole in the floor while I'm at it. Once I accept the fact that watching sitcoms and having alcohol is not going to make me feel better, I turn the TV off, have another gulp of my beer in hopes to calm down, and roll around on the couch so I'm lying and facing the backrest.
But that's of no use either; my eyes are wide opened, the lack of things to look at due to my face being almost pressed against the couch making my mind race, and disturbing images appear before my eyes against my will. Eventually I get sick of getting flashbacks of my girlfriend in possibly the only two pieces of underwear in color she's ever worn, I turn back around in the sofa and reach out for my phone, the forceful swing of my arm nearly breaking the glass surface of the coffee table.
To: Seth
You there yet?
For a minute I stare at the simple question I could barely type out without any spelling mistakes, contemplating whether or not I should add something else – 'I'll set your Aerosmith poster on fire' or 'sex with you probably doesn't last this long' – but in the end I shake my head and just press send, letting the phone slip from my hands and fall onto my chest while I stare at the ceiling. He's usually out of the house before ten; now it's 10:24 and I've still not gotten a reply for him. The only excuse I could consider good at this point is if he died in a car crash.
Just as I frown at the thought that he actually might have died and that's why it's taking him so long, my phone vibrates and I just about jump out of my skin. I quickly sit up, relieved to see his name on my screen.
From: Seth
I'm close, hold on
From: Seth
hahaha "I'm close" hahahahaha
From: Seth
bet that brings back memories
I roll my eyes, fighting back a laugh as well as the drive to throw my phone at a wall for real. I wait one minute before replying, knowing I wouldn't get anything but bad jokes from him if I texted him any earlier.
To: Seth
How about now?
I take a deep breath and reluctantly leave my phone on the table, deciding that reading his next message would probably require a glass of cold water. I'd need a glass of cold water either way.
However, when I return to the sofa with the said glass in my hand, I realize my phone hasn't moved an inch; and frown when I press the home button but no notifications appear. He hasn't texted me. It must have taken me two full minutes to get the damned glass of water, and he hasn't texted me. He needed 30 seconds to write me three tacky texts, but he can't reply with one of his simple 'ya's when I most need him to? What the hell kind of a friend is that?
The one that would go to a strip club to look for your girlfriend, yes, I should buy him something for Valentine's Day to show my appreciation. Maybe a scented candle. He'd never admit it, but he loves them. Too bad they don't have the pizza scent.
Once again my phone vibrates when I'm off thinking about completely irrelevant things, but I manage to seize it before it falls on the floor; and this time the sight of Seth's name makes me gulp. His message, however, makes me frown.
From: Seth
niall?
To: Seth
Seth?
From: Seth
...
At this point I don't remember being this confused while texting someone, but within seconds that confusion vanishes when I receive a blurry picture – unfortunately not blurry enough for me to not recognize the person in it – followed by a quick i'm sorry.
Unable to do anything else, I keep staring at the photo, keep thinking about how stupid she must think I am, keep asking myself what exactly does she take me for. It takes me a minute to snap out of my paralysis, and notice Seth had sent me several messages asking me if I'm okay and saying he's sorry. He's sorry. If only his sorriness could get her out of that sparkly blue lingerie set and teleport her from the pole she's holding onto to my living room.
To: Seth
I'm not okay. I'll be there in 10 minutes.
*******
i don't know if i should be apologizing for updating late or how you were probably expecting fluff and i gave you this instead
please vote aaand 200 comments before the next update?? i love youuuuuuu x