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PROBLEM IX | Lights Out!
Around six in the evening, when the sun started dipping down the horizon, Houston held a slight grim mood for the new piece of information that he prayed wasn't true. Apparently, Mr. Major Jock was the boyfriend to Miss Major Slut.
So needless to say, Houston drove me home grim faced. As much as this boy would annoy me, I would still say he looked good when he smiled than when he frowned. Hey, looks apart from hate!
Somewhere in the middle of the drive, I had been gazing out the window, watching the trees pass by when Houston went to change the gear and I felt a hiss erupting my lips. Retracting my arm from where he accidently (hopefully) brushed his hand I looked down at my arm.
A gash was there that had torn my skin apart as dry blood surrounded it. "Shit, Cliff girl! Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?!"
"Did you just call me Cliff girl? That is the worst name you would ever come up with!" and then, believe it or not, I saw a tinge of pink covering his cheeks, ears and neck. "Oh my God! I just made Houston Mellark blush!"
Houston glared at me, "Shut up Lian," he grumbled. Laughing at how uncomfortable he was with the face that I had made him blush, was absolutely enjoyable. So, I sang the same sentence for the rest of the drive until one point when Houston skid the car to stop—might I add, violently, that my head banged against the windshield. "Holy cheese bugs! My head!"
Houston smirked while I grabbed my head in an attempt to lessen the pain. I'm pretty sure I'd have a bump there by tomorrow. "What was that for? You made my head hurt!" Cue my puppy dog eyes. Houston averted his sight from my face, not looking at the adorable look I was giving him. "Shut up or I'm throwing you out right here."
"You can't throw a Girl out. That's mean and rude and unkind and cruel! And callous, and uncaring, malicious, unpleasant and...and-and...and Shameful!"
For the first time in life, when I looked at Houston, he was awestruck and he was staring at me. "Don't stare at me!" I snapped, while I snapped my fingers before his eyes to pull him out of his trance. My trick having successfully worked, Houston shook his head dashing out from his trance. "How much did you score on your English test?"
"98. Why?" Houston shook his head, "You must really be a Nerd."
The rest of the ride home was comfortably silent. My house came into vision as I braced myself to go home. "Is your dad home yet?"
"Yes."
"I don't see any vehicle here. Quit lying, Lian." I rolled my eyes and unlocked the car door, which much to my surprise—not, Did not open. "Unlock the door Houston!" Houston huffed then looked at me, "You don't have your house key. The door is obviously locked, the very reason I found you sitting out, hungry. Your dad's not home, neither do you have any siblings. Your arm is bleeding and is unaided. Need me give you more reasons to not unlock the door?"
