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Chapter 14- That's Surprisingly Nice Of You

Chapter 14- That's Surprisingly Nice Of You

“So, yeah, that’s why she’s a psychotic psychopath,” I chirpily explain to Mason later that same day, referring to Holland.

“That’s so…gross,” Mason laughs, sitting up on my bed and looking up at me in my full-length mirror, which I’m standing in front of.

“Right? Like, I just want to run her over with my car,” I murmur, yanking my bristled hairbrush through my hair, trying to get any remaining chicken pieces from the broth out of my long locks of hair. I’ve already had to wash it like, four times now since I got home about an hour and a half ago and, believe it or not, the scent still isn’t gone.

The disgusting watery chicken broth odor is still embedded in my long blond tresses, but it’s sort and muted now by all of the shampoo that I had in it just a few minutes ago while I was rigorously scrubbing my hair to clean the chicken bits out. I just finished telling Mason about the whole lunchtime fiasco thing between Holland and me and he’s humored by it, I think. I mean, I don’t know why because nothing about this situation is even in the slightest funny to me. Granted, it’s not like he’s just outright laughing at me, but he was chuckling throughout the story quietly.

He tried to mask his laughs as coughs or something, but he ended up failing miserably at it. I think that’s pretty funny though, because he’s like, an award-winning actor. Not to mention, one of the highest paid teenagers in Hollywood. At least, that’s what Holland told me, that he’s one of the highest paid. I wouldn’t know since, like I said, I don’t follow his career really.

That’s beside the point though. Clark called me a little while ago and she said that she was talking to Holland, who is apparently, ‘almost as mad’ as I am. Clark’s words, not mine. Though I’m not sure what could have Holland upset though—  it’s not like she stinks of raw chicken and grease or no longer has a phone or anything drastic like that. 

“Well, that’s pretty violent,” Mason notes and then adds, “Also, I’m pretty sure that hitting someone with your car on purpose is like, you know, illegal and stuff, so you’d probably go to jail,” He informs me absentmindedly, running his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. It’s actually pretty long, Mason’s hair, I mean. Well, for a guy, anyway. It’s not so long that he can put it in a proper ponytail or anything like that, but it’s long either way. Maybe he always keeps it that length though, I don’t know, but in Act of Valor and Murder on Magnolia—  the only two movies of his that I’ve actually seen—  his hair was short and brown.

“That would be really, really bad then,” I sigh, shaking my head and putting my hairbrush down. “I’ll just have to do something else to her then, I guess,” I reply with small sigh, walking over to my bed, about to side down beside Mason on the mattress. I don’t have the chance to though because Mason wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me towards and I clumsily fall on his lap in a sitting position. It’s a comfortable position though, so I don’t move, I just wrap an arm around his neck loosely. 

“I don’t think that you should do anything to her,” Mason disagrees, shaking his head with a small frown.

“So, you think that I should just…let her get away with this?” I ask him with an incredulous look on my face.

“Aria, haven’t you ever heard of karma?” He wonders, chuckling softly.

“Of course I’ve heard of karma, but who knows how long that could take to happen?”

“You’re just really, really impatient,” Mason reminds me, looping and arm around my waist.

“Yes, yes, I am,” I admit with an exasperated sigh, dropping my head down on his shoulder.