Rule Number One

Chapter 5: Battle of the Zodiacs

"Ty, come on! You're so slow! Shit, it's 7 pm already!"

You shuffle through your bag, anxious with the probability of whether you forgot to bring something for the second time. He scoffs while leaning at the door, turning his attention from his phone to you with a raised eyebrow. Peeking through strokes of his hair are his narrowed eyes, judging you at its best.

"You're kidding, right? I've been here since an hour ago, watching another Die Hard with your dad—plus—listening him complaining about his wife for postponing the date night cause she's suddenly wanted at her job—not to mention how it turned out that your mom surprised him just so she could wait for the anniversary cake—and how I ran here the second I just. knew. your dad almost got laid in front of me."

Following his finished speech, he shakes his head. A subtle expression of disdain crosses his face as he nonchalantly adjusts the hem of his favorite white Phillies jersey. Too stunned to speak, you just stare at him in traumatized knowledge and say,

"You know too much I think I have to kill you."

However.. as you return your attention to the mirror, you wonder why there's a subtle sense of.. something missing. You feel like you're already rocking your ensemble, though. As he rolls his eyes and shifts his focus back to his phone, casually tossing his blue NY baseball cap up and down in a playful manner, you suddenly realize something much more important. Frantically, you run to your bathroom and grab a towel from the wall.

"Shit! This is why I look so ugly every time I look in the mirror!"

Giving up the thought that you might head out in a matter of minutes—emphasize on the minutes—he enters your bedroom and gives in to the puffy armchair beside your bed, sighing, "Long as you don't put those in front of me. Still have nightmares about it."

"God why am I born like this? I mean—it's fine if you're forced to wear beautiful eyes for like—two weeks straight—" you keep rambling as you wear one clear soft lense in your right eye, "but the problem is, I'm fucking running out of em!" you continue to complain as you put on the left one, "Now I could only wear my plain ol dark brown eyes—I mean if it's light brown it'll still be tolerable though—'' squeezing some Biotrue to your eyes, you blink hastily in front of the mirror and stare at your reflection, "but—dark. brown eyes?! Look at me—"

"First of all—are you done putting on the soft lenses?" Tyler sucks air through his teeth out of annoyance and sneers impatiently, ear's on fire after listening to both dad and daughter complain.

Knitting your eyebrows together, you shout, "Yes I'm done—!"

"Second of all, stop yelling." Tyler commands firmly as he jumps and throws his baseball cap on the armchair. Walking to the bathroom door, he continues, "Third of all—stop degrading brown eyes. I have one and I'm proud of it?" he leans on the bathroom door, crossing his hands on his chest. Cavill raises an eyebrow at your reflection just to be replied with constant frowning.

"Well thank you for your input, River King—but everything on you and of you gets automatically good! Plus—yours are lighter!" you complain with palms sandwiching your cheeks, "look at mine!"

Shaking his head in defeat, he stares at your insecure self attentively.. but not until a slight smirk forms on his lips. You're too busy frowning at your reflection, not paying attention to the footsteps approaching you..

When you feel his body already behind you, slouching his head down to your shoulder. At the sudden moment, you grow tense, you can feel his breath get closer to your left ear. Both of his hands went to grip the edges of the bathroom sink, overlapping yours. The reflection of your matching friendship bracelets together send a smile to your face—but you try to suppress it by your fake pouting and your rolling eyes.