Loving You In the Dark

Chapter 7 - Breathe

All that was on my mind was the way Jordan was crouched on the floor, holding his bloody nose, the way I was yelling at him to stop from the top of my lungs, the surprise and astonishment eventually tarnishing and diminishing, leaving only my rage and fury. This wrath controlling my body and a fist connecting to his jaw, watching his head rock back and forth; for the second time.

I tossed and turned in my bed, and when I opened my phone, wincing from the light, I caught a glimpse of the time.

1:13 a.m.

As I returned my phone back underneath my pillow, an overwhelming feeling of stress rushed over me, engrossing me into its evil depths with persistent claws. 

Life had never been less perfect: Jordan Tenno was literally hitting on me, in a bad, obsessive way.

Samuel has been basically ignoring me, in hopes that I would just forget about what he said. Actually, I was confused as to why he was infuriated, nervous, determined to get away from me at all.

And, to top everything off: a secret someone was sending me secret admirer letters. Not even filming everything on a phone could give me answers, except a glimpse of a black hoodie, broad shoulders, and barely a deep whisper and a creek from the locker.

Samuel had broad shoulders and was wearing a black hoodie, but I knew it wasn't him.

I knew a thousand other guys with broad shoulders who were wearing black hoodies today.

I couldn't even know for a fact that this confidential man could've changed his clothes before he put a letter in my locker. 

With a sudden ringing from my phone, my eyes fluttered open as I lay sprawled in my bed. I gripped the blankets tighter and forced every fibre of my body to grasp my cold phone case, my fingers feeling a slight tingle from my body jolting awake to check who was calling me at 1 a.m in the morning. 

I squinted my eyes to see Quincy Ha calling me. 

I felt my heart sink down, a wave of disappointment hitting me, half-expecting for Samuel Ashington to call me gleefully, maybe drunk--unlikely, maybe sober. Whatever it was, I yearned to hear his voice after such a rough, painful day, harshfully tugging at my heartstrings with every second my ears caught the melodic noise of his voice-- yes, even if he was yelling or cackling like a witch. 

But, Quincy was being extremely persistent on calling me, for it had been the 5th time my phone rung, revealing her name at the top. 

I reluctantly pressed the green accept call button, to be greeted with music attacking my eardrums with its extremely loud beat, and in the distance I could hear shouting, screaming, and yelling, and even moaning? I had to turn down my volume in the efforts I wouldn't wake up anyone unfortunately.

"Quincy, where the fuck are you? And why are you calling me?" I asked, holding the phone close to my ear, so I could only hear Quincy's dialogue and answer.

"I'm at a party!" She yelled through the phone, amongst all the chaotic and hectic noise, the uproar of the crowd chanting for someone to take a shot. "With Samuel!"

I knew she could sense the utter surprise from the other side of the call even without seeing me, as my eyes widened and I hesitated for another word to roll out of my mouth. 

In the back of my mind, I knew for a fact that nothing had ever stopped Samuel from getting drunk at a high-school party drinking his ass off because of something depressing that happened to him, like when his mom and dad divorced-- because I had been there for him when he was vomiting and complaining about his massive hangover the next morning. That was once in freshman year when he went to my house and we were home alone.