decisions (n.)
a conclusion or resolution reached after consideration.
CHECKMATE #4
"world-changing decisions are hard to make, but learning you have to sacrifice is even harder."
Life has gone back to normal in the Adelaide Woods five years after t...
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track #03 in kunboss ryder bailey
itzy // not shy
THE HOUSE goes silent, following everyone ignoring me yet again, because of the recent messages. I don't get why they won't tell me – do they just expect me to figure it out myself? I was just pointing out the fact that Tris changed his username. It was a fact, yet now they blame me for being insensitive? Was I supposed to catch on? There were no hints given.
I quickly go upstairs and check on what Gwyneth's doing through the crack in her door – she's still at home, working on the plan against Byrok, Zoey sitting on the bed with her, talking and chatting – and quickly pull my phone out, firing Evelyn a text.
kunrbailey: nothing so far
kunrbailey: they're still working on the anti-byrok plan. have been every day.
seen by _evelynhj.
I stand outside Gwyneth's door, peeking inside at Zoey, the girl I've been admiring from afar for ages – to be honest, ever since we met, it was an infatuation. An unhealthy one. She was cute back then, but over the years, it's transformed into sheer beauty. The first time I saw her at our parents' summer get-togethers, I already knew I was a goner. I knew I was going to spend the rest of my school years unreasonably staring at her, pursuing her. Her curtain bangs forming soft curls around her temples, the now medium length hair flowing down her back like a waterfall.
She's laughing at something Gwyneth said. I knew it, because the sound of her melodic laugh echoed in the air. I didn't mean to – in fact, I didn't notice even until it was too late – that I was staring. As soon as I saw her, a bare hint of red – and heat – creeped up my cheeks. I was blushing – embarrassed by my own instinct to find her in a room, yet transfixed all the same.
I look away quickly, telling myself that the way her shoulders shake when chuckling aren't that endearing at all, and attempt to wipe the wide smile off my face.
As I come back to my senses, a hand waves in front of my face.
"Oh, hi cutie," I say.
"What the hell?" Gwyneth curses before slamming the door shut right in my face. "Go away. Why are you here?"
I facepalm myself internally for saying such a stupid thing – 'cutie'? Who says that? Especially to someone they've just fought with? Apparently, me.
Now, any hope of either regaining Gwyneth's trust or staring at Zoey from the sliver of an opening in the door is gone.
***
Zoey would always draw portraits of Gwyneth and I, some together, some separate, and I would always stare at them when we were having a playdate at her house, admiring the artwork, or maybe the talent of the artist herself. They were framed and hung straight onto the wall; us laughing, slapping each other, cackling in a flowerbed full of roses, daisies, poppies and daffodils; and the flowers reminded me of Zoey.
