Moving In With The Enemy

Chapter 7 ~ "He's A Rubik's Cube"

I haven't been to a party in a while, when my friends come home from high school, someone always has a party but most of them had started staying in their college towns to work or do research over the summer. I needed to try my best to be likeable tonight, be social and make friends.

I took a shower not too long ago and dried my hair, it always dried a bit wavy but I leaned into it tonight with some product and hair oil. I tried to straighten it so much growing up but now it seemed almost cute to have it wavy.

My outfit was simple, I didn't want to wear anything that would attract a lot of attention. Just a tank top and a pair of shorts, I also knew it would be really hot so I wanted to be comfortable. I find my old converse and tie them up and the last thing I grab is my belt bag, it carried a few essentials for me when I went out.

We're waiting on Dustin and Mark to get home, Mark's practice was running late and Dustin wasn't getting home until eight and told us to go without him if we were itching to leave.

I feel flat, my hair's brown but it doesn't stand out properly the way it would with highlights. I did some simple makeup, fully aware that i'd sweat it all off. I felt nothing like Piper and her friends, it took a long time for me to acknowledge that that was okay growing up and I felt like I was in middle school all over again.

I try to shake it off and leave my room, heading down to the kitchen. It was rare that I was home alone with Walker, really rare. If we were, he was always in his room with the door closed. So, it was a huge surprise to see him at the dining room table.

I've taken to ignoring him for the most part, since when I try to talk to him he ignores me. I try to decide what I want to eat, I just know I should eat something.

I pull a container of pasta out that I'd put in there two days ago, better now than never I guess. I open it and pull open the microwave above the stove. Once it's in, I turn back around to put the lid in the dishwasher and my eyes meet Walker's. He's just looking at me, fork full of stir-fry just hanging in midair.

My throat tightens up the way it normally does when I look at those eyes. They were so beautiful, I wished mine were that piercing. 

"What?" I ask, unsure of what else to do. 

He instantly clears his throat and shakes his head, shovelling the food back into his mouth. "Nothing." He grumbles and I sigh, seeing a dirty frying pan and spatula on the stove. I just press my lips together and put his dishes back in the dishwasher. "You don't have to do that." He tells me and I roll my eyes.

"Well, it's better to just put them in here." I shrug, getting them into the racks. "If all of us dirty two dishes a meal, it doesn't take long for them to pile up."

"Yeah Annie, I'm aware." He tells me. "I've lived here a lot longer than you."

"I-I know that." I sigh, looking back at the floor. "Just forget it." I tell him, feeling irritated that he was such a moody dick. He's so hard to talk to and I can't figure out what's changed. He was so nice to me when I met him, so eager to get to know me and have me move in. Now it was like he couldn't bare to have me anywhere near him.

"Have I done something wrong?" I ask quietly, leaning back on the countertop. I was nervous just to ask because he already seemed so mad. His chest deflates and I cross my arms.

"No." He answers, looking at the table and I nod.

"Because you're acting like it." I tell him and he rolls his eyes.

"Annie, everything's fine." He assures me and I nod, looking at the wall and hearing the microwave beep. I go get my food and get a fork from the drawer, quietly choosing to stand at the counter to eat. "Why do you always do that?" He asks and I look over to him, furrowing my eyebrows.