Mr and Mrs Nemesis✔️

Chapter Seven - Spooky Co-parenting

The week passes quickly in a flurry of boring lessons, uneventful lunchtimes and dull detentions. Frankly, when Friday comes around, I'm near jumping for glee. Don't get me wrong, sometimes it's nice to come to school without a fish in my locker or smoothie in my hair, but I'm feeling as though life is incredibly mundane at the moment, so the weekend best offer the sweet relief of underage drinking and dancing till dawn.

When I suggest this to Alena, she's quick to return that non other than our very own Sebastian Walker is planning on throwing an impromptu party on Saturday. Of course, I'm quick to punch him in the shoulder for not mentioning anything to me, his very best friend in the whole wide world, but he assures me that he mentioned nothing to anyone until he was absolutely sure his parents were going to his grandma's for the weekend. Thank goodness for old people and their incontinence!

It might actually be the most excited I've been for a long while. After feeling completely overwhelmed with the project, Elijah in general, then Adam and the crescendo of Disney princess songs at home, this might be the best news of the year. Even more so, it'll be the first time in months that all five of us, Natalie included, will be together.

In my second period, I have a free slot, so I spend it in the common area, placing the final touches on my section of the essay. I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I've absolutely smashed it. I sound smart, sophisticated, and my referencing skills are impeccable. Hopefully, it'll soften the blow for the shit show that will be years 2-4, the section I'm sorry to admit that Elijah took charge of. Across the room, one of Hendrix lackies, Jack something, is sat emersed in conversation.

"Jack!" I shout. His head swivels and he smiles once he notices me. "Where's Hendrix?"

He laughs at me, turning his body so that he's perched on his knees, supported by the back rest, all so he can completely face me. "Why," he asks through a cheeky grin. "What's he done now?"

I shake my head, my lips sneaking into a smirk before I can supress it. "Nothing this time. I need to talk to him about childcare." I explain.

"I can text him if you want?" He offers, but I shake my head, kindly rejecting his offer.

"I can actually do that myself," I mumble under my breath, loud enough for only my ears.

Mike Tyson: Where are you? Have you finished your section of the essay?

The message sends and I place my laptop on the table in front, curling my legs up so I can rest my chin on my knees. I stay on my phone, anticipating a reply.

"Behind you."

I swear it, I fly.

My whole body jolts, throwing my phone into the air and propelling me off of the chair, sending me into a heap on the floor, not before I bang my arm and head on the table edge with a more than an audible thud. If that's not embarrassing enough, hearing Hendrix's obnoxious laughter and noticing it drawing even more attention to my tangled frame on the floor, I flush completely, sure that my cheeks are so warm they're steaming. Of course, so are my ears, so I'm quick to jump up and like a lunatic, dive over the chairs and tackle Hendrix to the ground.

"You," thud, "fucking," punch, "idiot," claw. Following an elbow to the face, we wrestle for a couple of minutes on the floor, pulling twice the crowd. Hendrix doesn't hold back on getting a good couple of hits in, digging into my ribs and tit punching me twice. I notice the grin never leaves his face though, especially not when he manages to roll over so that I'm pinned beneath him, my arms above my head trapped with both of his, him straddling my waist, legs restrained by his that are heavy on top.

"I win." He mumbles, his face inches from mine. I do what I can imagine to be the only dignified move in this situation. I lick him right across the face.