“Where the hell is the food?” Lizzy said as I walked in the house.
“Dead,” I responded, “died on the street. The bag ripped.”
It was a lie. I was too focused on Jase that I totally forgot about the food.
She just puffed her cheek in annoyance. “Froot Loops it is again.”
I watched as she walked to the kitchen.
I sighed and scooted onto a bar stool. “How was your shower?”
“Horrific,” she told me, pouring some cereal into her bowl, “the water heater’s out again. We really need to get that breaker fixed.”
“Agreed.”
She then poured me a bowl and slid it over to me.
I gladly took it and pulled some into my mouth.
“Damn,” she said as she sat next to me, starting to eat, “I seriously hope it wasn’t expensive. You have like… no money.”
I swallowed my food. “It was relatively cheap.”
It was free… because I got none.
She sighed and set her cheek in her hand. “Ah, the dreamy days. I wish I could have a guy like Jase.”
“Feel free to take him,” I said sarcastically.
I didn’t mean it. Why didn’t I mean it?
“No can do,” she said, sparing me a smirk. “He’s yours now.”
I wasn’t sure if I liked her answer all that much, but I couldn’t deny that I didn’t either.
“How’s the selling of your art going?” she asked me.
“Poorly,” I answered, sighing as I scooped another spoonful of cereal, “it’s very hard to sell when you’re not known.”
“Agreed, but I know you’ll make it one day. You’re such a good artist and writer,” she said then, finishing her meal. “Well… I’m tired. I’m gonna go sleep like a rock tonight.” She lightly kissed my forehead. “Love-ya, sis.”
“Love you,” I said then.
She then made her way upstairs.
I sighed and lowered my lashes, staring at the wall lazily as I played with my spoon.
God, he was so unsettling but yet so attracting. I was scared shitless but intrigued at the same time.
I hated that smile, but I loved it. What was wrong with me?
I pulled the scrapbook paper from my assignment out from my pocket, gazing down at it seconds later.
My eyes scanned the paper, all the half-assed responses I wrote scattered among uneven bullet points.
I immediately stilled.
Wait… there were eighteen bullet points… not twenty.
My eyes widened when I counted again.
How could I have miscounted?!
UGH.
I sighed and closed my eyes tightly, immediately parting my lashes in annoyance.
What would I do? It was late… he was probably off of work now. And the assignment was due tomorrow.
I tipped my head back, ants of dread crawling under my skin.
But my eyes flew open, and my mouth parted.
I then sat back forward and gazed down at my forearm… finding his number still there in blue ink.
I then lowered my lashes.
This entire day has been insane.
But I picked up my phone before I could stop myself and opened the dial keypad… I then typed in his number.
I pressed my phone to my ear, breathing slowly as I waited for it to ring.
It picked up seconds later. “Yello?”
“Jase?” I said then.
“Emma?” he responded, though mocking me.
I sighed and gazed down at my paper. “I messed up, there’s only eighteen bullet points. I need to ask you two more questions.”
“Pity,” he said, though I knew he wasn’t serious.
I held the phone onto my shoulder, pressing my ear to it. “Favorite food?”
“I apologize, Emma, but I have to get back to work,” he said, though I hardly believed it. “We can go through this later, if you like. I’m free in twenty minutes and I’m going to the arcade.”
“Jase, it’s nine in the evening. On a school night.”
“Bummer,” he said then, sighing, “it’s so lame here without you.”
I just sighed. “Whatever.”
“If you change your mind,” he said then, and I could hear his smile, “on twentieth street.”
And the phoneline clicked.
I pulled it from my ear and stared down at it.
I then growled and set down my phone, scribbling on the last two lines “jerk” and “self-centered asshole”.
I then slammed my pen down and sat back in my chair, eyes glowing in irritation when I looked up at the ceiling and watched the lights dance off the pale paint.
My eyes grew weary.
Before I could stop myself, I shot off the chair, grabbed my coat and shoes, and rushed out the front door.
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