Blaming Cupid

Blaming Cupid - Chapter Two

B L A M I NG
C U P I D
2. Harriet

I will always despise being in situations that make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, uncomfortable doesn't even measure up the way I currently feel.

We sit opposite each other, on separate benches, looking anywhere but at one another. He has his arms folded together with a look of annoyance sprawled across his face and I'm the only person to blame for it.

I purse my lips together and decide I can no longer endure the silence.

"So, how are you finding your first day?" I ask. Then I realise the situation. I definitely should've avoided asking such a thing since the answer is clear. There's no doubt that he must be finding his first day terrible, especially now considering I locked him inside this smelly changing room.

He remains quiet, but I try to convince myself he didn't hear me.

Well, that went badly.

I guess if I can't converse with him, I'll have to find something else to do to kill my boredom because sitting in one place for another fifteen minutes until the bell rings isn't my cup of tea.

I get up and decide to explore the boys' changing rooms. I walk past the lockers, staring at them closely. It's quite a dull shade of blue we have here. I proceed to walk down, noticing one of the lockers open. I slam it shut, before taking another step forward when I realise, I simply can't. I look down to see my shirt trapped in between the metal.

I'm surprised I haven't received an award for being such an idiot.

Now, what the fuck do I do?

I try to tug lightly but it doesn't help so I pull harder only to find I'm getting nowhere with it.

"Shit," I curse.

The new guy hears me and looks up. His eyes trail down to my shirt caught in the locker and just as I think he'll get up and give me a hand, he proceeds to sit there quietly.

"Oh, thanks for the fucking help," I spit out, sarcastically.

He scoffs, "Help? Do you really think I'm going to help you? Due to your incapability of opening a fucking door, I'm left in here for about twenty more minutes."

"Oh, boo hoo! So fucking what? I'm stuck in here too, am I complaining?" I retort.

"You're the fucking reason we're both in here! Obviously, you aren't going to complain."

"It wasn't even my fault, the handle fell off," I point out.

"It wouldn't have fell off if you actually knew how to open a door right, you know, like a normal person."

I grind my teeth together, trying my best not to retaliate. Instead, I turn back around and continue to pull my shirt out. With every tug, I get more frustrated until finally, I pull so hard that I end up tearing it a little bit. Although I would've prefered my shirt not to rip, I expect it.

My chest grows with relief as I walk back to the bench and plop down.

He meets my gaze in an instant. We stare at each other silently. Who will be the first to break away?

"This isn't a staring competition." he clarifies.

"I know," I reply.

My eyes start to water. Shit, I can't do this. I'm going to-

He lets out a low chuckle.

I gently dab my sleeve under my eyes to dry them.

He watches me, carefully, like prey.