Two strangers. One room. And it doesn't end there.
Rhys Hayes has been diagnosed with dyscalculia. He finds it easier to avoid talking than have to reveal his secret: why he can't tell the time, or why he doesn't remember directions, or why he just...
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April 6th:
✿ Verena ✿
"Rhys?" I call out.
"Yeah?" He says, looking away from his laptop.
"What are you doing?" I ask, fidgeting on the couch, my legs aching from sitting still for too long. I thought I couldn't get tired of resting but here I am.
He doesn't answer but shuts his laptop and gets up, coming to sit beside me. I immediately sit up straighter and turn to look at him, happy for the attention I'm getting.
"Let's talk," I say after a moment of brain storming over the things we could do.
"We already are."
"Hm."
"Okay, ask me something," He says.
"Like twenty one questions?" I ask, excited. I've never played this with anyone, mostly because I already knew the poop schedules of the kids at my orphanage.
"Yeah," Rhys says.
"What's your middle name?" I ask.
"Rhys Theodore Hayes," He says.
"Oh my God! Rhys, I should call you Teddy!" I say, "I always wanted a big teddy anyway, I saw them at the mall one time but I was eighteen and I didn't need it so I just didn't buy it but then I dreamt of it and-"
"Short for Theodore is Theo," Rhys says, his face morphing into a scowl.
"No, you look nothing like Theo James," I say, looking at his pinkish-creamish complexion. He says he doesn't feel cold but it's clearly visible on his face, especially when he's wearing a thin plain white t-shirt.
The shirt exposes the outlines of his abs. He might as well be sitting shirtless. He should.
"That doesn't make sense, you realize there are millions of people named Theo, right?"
"Right but that doesn't mean you have to be a Theo, you could be a Teddy," I say.
"No, call me Rhys or nothing."
"Okay nothing," I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.
"Vera," He says, laying his arm around my shoulder on the couch, just like he always does.
But this time, he reaches for my ponytail and gives it a tug.
"Ow!" I say, shoving his huge ass arm away.
"What's your middle name," Rhys asks.
"Don't have one," I say, annoyed. "And please don't touch my hair."
