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pierce
one entire day later, and i'm still thinking about clementine ashby.
after some digging—lucas wouldn't tell me her name out of spite—i finally found her name through a joint english assessment document our teacher made that was given to us during the break, instead of printing a couple dozen papers.
her email had her full name, and the profile was a selfie of her which is how i recognised the email to be hers.
she had commented on the doc, saying, and i quote, "i'm sorry to point it out but you forgot to put the due date, and i was wondering when it is?" she even texts beautifully.
is this who i've become—someone who thirsts over a text sent on an english assessment?
i guess it is. not only has this girl managed to make me thirst over a text message, but she's taken up my entire headspace. who the fuck am i? yesterday, i was snapping at everyone who looked at me, today i'm fucking waving back.
someone shoves at my elbow, and my arm folds in half. my chin that was once resting on my palm lifts up at the loss of balance, and i shoot alex a glare.
he's looking at me with a cocked brow, the tattoo on-top of it that reads 'promiscuous' in bold crinkling due to the movement.
"what?" i ask, my tone not conveying the yearning i feel for a girl i've never even fucking spoken to.
how long has she been at the school? how the fuck did i not notice her sooner? am i really that careless? am i really giving a shit about me being careless?
he nudges my elbow again, and when i snap out of it to shoot him a glare, he slowly lifts his yogurt-full spoon into his mouth, his eyes wide.
the spoon leaves his mouth with a plop, before finally speaking. "what's wrong with you?"
"what's wrong with me?"
"your eyes are.. shining."
"no the fuck they're not." my head rears back, taking offence to the absurd comment. my eyes never shine.
"yeah dude," he picks up more yogurt on his spoon, adding "with sparkles and everything."
"says the fucker who's got the sun shining off of his damn head." i retort, choosing to low-blow his buzz cut rather than admitting my eyes are shining.
because they're not.
he laughs at my comment, lifting his elbows off the kitchen counter and walking to the side i'm on, sitting down on the only other bar stool.
alex and i have been roommates for three months. since he's a year older than lucas and i, making him nineteen, he's able to own his very own house.
my parents are rich as fuck, so they bought me this house but put it under his name so there wouldn't be as many forms to fill out. him tattooing people for a living is what pays the bills.
my mom and dad are healthy and happy, they would've kept me in the house but they're... loud lovers. i'd rather kill myself dead with a gun than hear the words 'you know how i like it' at 3am ever again.
which is exactly why they allowed me to move without any complaints. sure, they come by pretty much every day, but they let me move out.
now when i hear people having sex, i'm grateful to know it isn't my mom and dad, rather alex with some random chick, usually his clientele.
"what's up." alex speaks up suddenly after i zone out for the third time in five minutes, and i sigh. "fuck all is wrong."
"you're snappy," he points out, repeating, "what's up."
YOU ARE READING
his and hers | 18+
Romancei have no safe space, no haven. my home is a wreck, and everyone at school hates me. the least i can do for myself is lay low. i don't speak to anyone, i don't have any friends, my hoodie is always drawn. i keep to myself, and that's how i like it...
