𝙷𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

08

SO FAR, ME and Logan are doing pretty good at this project. It's been two weeks since we were assigned it so we have two more to finish it.

We've collected all the information needed together and I've agreed to write the paragraphs as long as he makes the moving slides, fonts, colours and pictures. Basically, he gets the easy part but at least he's still helping. That's progress.

We're at his room, working silently on it. Logan sits at his desk chair while I sit at a kitchen chair that he brought for me from downstairs. Each one in different sides of his desk. Logan is searching for templates for Power Point and I'm currently on the fourth paragraph. We're supposed to write twelve.

There's a knock on his door. "What?" He asks frustrated towards the door.

A sweet, petite lady walks in with a plate consisting some fresh juicy fruit. Apples, bananas and my favourite, watermelon.

I assume she is Logan's mother. She gives me a fond smile and I give one back to her.

"Oh, hey mom." Logan greets, confirming my thoughts.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you guys. I brought you some fruit to freshen up your brain." She says with apologetic look in her eyes as she sets the plate on the desk, between the two of us.

"It's okay, thank you so much." I assure her, the smile I have not leaving my face.

"You're welcome, dear."

"Yeah, thanks for the fruit." Logan thanks her as well.

"Of course, have a good time working on your project," she says proudly. I assume Logan doesn't usually study because he's an F student so that explains the proudness in her voice as she steps out of the room and closes the door to give us some privacy.

Without looking away from my laptop, I extend my hand to the plate full of fruits so I can grab a watermelon piece.

Instead, I accidentally touch Logan's hand who was also trying to take a piece of fruit, an apple specifically. My hand twitches and I feel tingles on my skin. I snatch the piece of watermelon I was going to get and turn away from him in an instant.

I'm trying to ignore the silly tingles and blame it on hormones as I chew nervously on the watermelon.

Red juices drip in my fingers from the summery fruit making them sticky but I just keep stress eating pretending to write on my laptop while all I type are gibberish such as 'jsiwijsk skakw ievzmwp iwnsne hshdgjh'

In my opinion, these are very inspirational words and are really important for our french revolution project.

Anyway.

I delete the gibberish from my screen typing the 'delete' button on my keyboard repeatedly and wipe my dirty hand on a napkin sitting under the plate of fruits.

I continue writing actual words that exist in the english vocabulary and soon after, I'm finished with the fifth paragraph. Seven more to go...

I check my phone to find out it's already 9:22. I close my computer and place it in its case and into my tote bag, along with my phone and the paper sheets that I had printed to highlight and note down some stuff required for the project.

I message my mum to come pick me up and she replies that she'll be here in ten minutes. Why so long? Maybe she went to buy groceries or something.

"Jones, what are you doing?" Logan looks up from his own laptop.

"My mom's picking me up in ten minutes." I give him an explanation and he nods in understanding as he closes his computer too.

"What are you doing?" I return the question back at him.

"I'll take the kitchen chair downstairs." He points at the chair I'm sitting at and I mumble a soft oh.

He lifts the chair up, flips it over and put its over his head as he skips down the stairs like he's carrying a feather. I follow after him, my tote bag hanging of my shoulder.

He suddenly stops to rejust the chair on top of his head. I'm taken aback by his sudden actions and I accidentally run into his back.

"Watch where the fuck you're going." He growls over his shoulder, not bothering to turn to look at me.

"You're the one that suddenly stopped walking out of the blue. Blame yourself, Black." I argue and he scoffs at me. Asshole.

He enters the kitchen area and I watch from the doorway as he sets the chair at its original place, infront of the wooden dining table.

He rolls his eyes, "You can stop staring now."

I wasn't staring, was I? Wait, am I still staring? Shit. "I wasn't staring." I brush it off and head towards the living room so I can wait there for my mother to come pick me up.

Instead of coming in the living room to wait with me, he just goes back upstairs without saying goodbye. I wasn't expecting him to do so but it's still rude.

His thumbing footsteps stop once he reaches his bedroom. Then a loud bang is heard from closing his door. I just sit there awkwardly, fidgeting with my hands.

I get my phone from my bag and suprise suprise it's dead so I just tap my pastel-blue acrylics on its case. They aren't long but I like them. I could grow them out for this size but I have a terrible habit of biting them.

I notice my mom's car from a window and I get up.

. . .

extremely short chapter ikkk and i’m so sorry but i didn’t know what else to write. please give me some ideas! they would be really appreciated.

i feel like i’m just dragging this out for the shake of it being a slowburn.

i’d say i have the writer’s block but i think i’m just extremely bad at writing...

anyway.

gggooooooddddbbbbyyyyeeeee