Clichés

five

I CHANGED THE STORY NAME TO "clichés"!

After a while, the air got chilly, and our parents would be wondering where we were so we decided to head back.

We walked through the long always, side by side.

She stopped to turn into her wing of the house but turned towards me.

"I just wanna make sure we are on the same page.." she stated,

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm really interested in Matteo, and I could see his eyes on you the whole night  so I just wanted to make sure nothing was going on between you two,"

Was she crazy? Clearly, he was more interested in her than he ever was in me. "We hardly know each other, and if he had his eyes on someone, it was definitely you."

She sighed, "Okay good, I just really like him ya know?"

I sent her a straight smile, "Ya, of course, goodnight,"

"Goodnight," She turned away and started to walk towards her bedroom.

My bedroom was on the other side of the house, so I decided to get a glass of water from the kitchens before heading to bed. I also knew that my parents would be waiting for me, ready to yell, so I was willing to stay out as late as I could.

I opened the kitchen doors, not bothering to turn on the lights. I pulled out my phone and headphones and started playing a random playlist.

I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and headed for the fridge to fill it up. But before I could, a finger was poking at my shoulder.

"HOLY FUQKEHD," I screamed like a little girl, instantly wishing that I would just shut up. I spun around to see Matteo staring at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my outburst.

How dare this boy tell me to stop talking, but then make me scream like I was pathetic in a span of two hours.

This boy is everywhere. I would say that it was fate, but that is just silly.

"What the hell is your problem!?!" I scream-whispered at him, remembering that most people in the house were already sleeping.

"Well I was calling your name, but you and your stupid headphones couldn't hear me," he rubbed his ear, "And you busted my bloody eardrum," 

"Well, whose fault is that?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yours actually."

I rolled my eyes, closing the fridge door.  "What are you doing here?"

"You say that like you own the place,"

"I do,"

"No you don't," he raised his eyebrows,

"Shut up," 

"Fine." He stared at me like he was almost waiting for me to say something.

"You never answered my question,"

"Huh?" He said, snapping out for his glaze.

"Why are you here?"

"Well if you must know, my father can be a bitch while drunk, so I decided to hide out in here till he falls asleep," He says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Holy muscles.

"Ah, looks like we are doing the same," I took a sip of my water, "would you like to wait with me, kind sir?" I offered, mocking a British accent out of nowhere.