I woke up with a pain in my neck. Since last night my room was pretty busy, I had to sleep on the couch in the living room with Dylan and Will. They moved the coffee table away so they could sleep on the floor. Overall, I didn't have the most comfortable sleep. Well, at least I was sleeping in something that can count as comfortable—sweatpants and a crop top with a panda print on it.
I read a text from Ryan that told me to meet him in the park at 2 in the afternoon. I was too tired—lazy actually—to leave the house, but I decided to go anyway. It was 9:30 in the early morning and Dylan was still snoring on the floor, while Will was nowhere to be seen.
I go up to my room and knock on the door. I'm knocking on my bedroom door. Awesome! No one answers, so I just open it. Kyle was sleeping on my bed…alone.
"KYLE!"
My call causes him to fall off the bed with alarm. If I wasn't still angry, I would laugh at him. As for now, I'm boiling inside.
"What is wrong with you, woman?" He stands up, and thankfully, he had his boxer on.
"I'm the one who's supposed to ask you that," I push him to the back. "Dude, why my room? I swear you'll pay for this, Kyle." I poke his chest with my fingers until I realize something and jump back with a yelp.
"Sex hands!" I shake my hands disgustingly. I run to the bathroom and knock the door. I hear the shower running inside, so I knock faster and harder. Then the water stops and a minute later, someone steps out of the bathroom. The slut was in only a towel, and she walked down to my bedroom and closed the door behind her like it was hers. Damn, these girls take the statement 'make yourself at home' to a whole new, different level.
I wash my hands then once again knock on my bedroom. The same slut opens for me in the same towel. I ignore her and walk to my closet to get some new clothes. I fetched myself a white T-shirt that says " "I HATE PUPPIES" SAID NO ONE EVER", long black leggings, and a purple plaid shirt.
I hung my clothes behind the bathroom door before taking a quick shower. I get dressed then leave the bathroom. Basically, it was a complete fuss out of the bathroom. Shirtless guys girls walking around the house and, occasionally, making out in the middle. Everyone is talking and laughing like they're in some sort of parade. Then I see Cody step out of Kat's room. Man, can this boy get any more stupid?
"CODY! ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"
"Good morning to you too, Nicole," he acted so cool and relaxed like he didn't give a flying fuck about the world.
"Did you bang in Kat's room?"
"It's okay, I changed the sheets."
"Oh, you changed the sheets? Well, what will you tell Kat about that? She'll suspect something Cody, I know it. Also," I sigh in exasperation then look at him again. "You know what? Whatever. Why do I care? But if she suspects anything and starts asking questions, I won't defend you." I then do a dramatic hair flip that my wet hair slapped his face.
The blonde passes by me in a shirt that is quite familiar. I hold her shoulder and turn her around.
"Is that my shirt?" I ask, getting furious than ever.
"I don't know. Is this your room?" She points to my room, and I nod. "And is your closet in there?"
"No, I keep it in the kitchen, so it's near the fridge," I reply sarcastically. She just frowned at me like she didn't get it, so Dylan lent her a hand.
"She's joking," he said from behind me.
"I just took whatever I found in there," she said.
"Even my underwear?" I ask.
"I don't know. Is this yours?" She lifted the shirt up to show me a black bra with "NOT FAKE" printed in white, each word on a cup. To say the least, this is my favorite one.
"Woah!" Dylan and Jordan say simultaneously while Cody wolf-whistled as he passed by. I don't know if it's the bra or her boobs that got them like that, but I quickly pulled the shirt down, anyway.
"God! You're shameless," I tell her and start pushing her towards the front door. "Come on, girls, out."
"Alright, we'll be back to return your clothes—"
"No, thanks, you can keep them," I push the last one out the door.
"Bye, Joey," one of the waves her hand at Jordan, who winks at her.
I shut the door on their faces then turn around to face my best friends.
"Alright, bye, man," Kyle does a man-hug with Cody and proceeds to escape. I smile at him sweetly and he gives me a knowing look.
So I made Kyle clean my room while I watched him do it. Jordan and Cody cleaned the other two bedrooms along with the living room, which was quite messed up from last night as well. I made sure Kyle wiped every part of my room and changed the sheets of my bed. It took them 3 hours of cleaning and endless whining to finish. They whined a little more after they finished, saying how unfair it is to clean the whole house even if they didn't mess it all up.
"Yeah, well, I just wanted to get the place cleaned up without doing anything," I say. "Maybe you guys can fix dinner tonight, too."
"Why? Do you see us filming The Real Housewives of Los Angeles?" Jordan asked sarcastically, lazily lounging on the couch.
At exactly 1:56, I arrived at the park and saw Ryan sitting in the far distance under the biggest tree in the area. He had his eyes focused on his phone as he texted someone. I approach him and gently to cover his eyes with my palms. At that exact moment, my phone beeped a text in my pocket. Ryan removed my hands away from his face and grins at me. I smile back when he suddenly stole a quick kiss on my cheek. The gesture was as small as it is surprising. I stood there for a few moments but quickly recovered, taking out my phone to read the message.
Ryan: Find me under the biggest tree.
"Well, I found you. Do I get a reward?" I sit down next to him.
"I have a reward for you," he smirks and starts leaning closer. Oh, man, he's doing it again. I move my head backward, farther from his face. He frowns then nods slightly, "Playing hard to get, are we?"
"I'm not playing anything," I shrug my shoulder in pretended innocence. The thing is that I want to know Ryan's true intentions. It's not like I don't trust him because I genuinely do. All I want to do is show him that I'm not an easy catch, and if he wants me, he has to make an effort. So, yes, I might be playing hard to get.
"What do you have here?" I point my head to a basket next to him.
"Lunch," he starts unpacking the basket, laying sandwiches, salad, and drinks on the blue blanket under us.
"Oh, we're having a picnic?"
"Yes, indeed we are, ma'am," he changes his voice to show off a thick English accent.
"What's up with you and the accent?"
"My origins are actually British," he hands me a turkey sandwich with lettuce and a mozzarella slice.
"Really?"
"No, I just like speaking like that," he shrugs then takes a huge bite of his sandwich.
We eat and talk about useless things and ask random questions like whether a cat or a dog is a better pet.
"Cats are playful," he argues.
"And dogs aren’t? Dogs love to play, plus they're way more loyal than all cats."
"Please, cats love their owners and get attached to them easily. Besides, they don't need any training to do that."
"Your argument is just pointless because you're convinced that dogs don't need any training to love their owners because they're that friendly. Everyone knows that a dog is a man's best friend so stop talking."
"This whole argument is pointless because I actually hate all animals."
"Even cats?"
"Even cats."
Mere seconds of silence pass by before we both burst out laughing at how stupid this whole thing was. Well, that's just how it goes—stupid conversations with stupid topics and stupid arguments and such a wonderful time. To say that I enjoyed spending time with Ryan is an understatement because I just feel great with I'm around him.
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