Two weeks with Mr.Selfish

Part 10

Part 10

Escaping the confines of my apartment the next evening was exceedingly difficult with Leoni’s suspicious gazes and heavy questioning. It was incomprehensible to her why I had on a pair of dark jeans instead of my usual sweats, or why my hair was actually brushed and free from the typical elastic that bunched it into a messy bun.  I’d been a wonderful liar, and the excuse that I was going out with Victor for the night was somewhat believable. It was also an easy out when she had demanded that I invite her; Leoni and Victor had bitterness between them because of a drunken slur she’d spewed at him months prior.

“I can’t believe he’s still hung up over that,” she scoffed from her position on the couch. I paused my frenzied movements around the room in an attempt to find my room keys to look at her, sighing heavily and cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You called him a fag.”

“Oh, whatever,” she retorted with a roll of the eyes. “No one can take a joke anymore.”

My eyes lit up in recognition as I caught sight of the green lanyard which was attached to my keys, and quickly swept it into my fingers. Shoving it into my pocket, I zipped my jacket up and slipped a pair of gloves on.

“I’m off,” I announced, avoiding her hard stare. There was an awkward silence and I cleared my throat in the quiet air, licking at my lips lightly. “I, uh, don’t know what time I’ll be home – “ another awkward noise escaped my throat,  “So you don’t have to wait up.”

“Right,” she sighed, irritation laced in her voice. She pursed her lips and nodded at the aqua blue container situated on the adjacent table. “I’ll just be here with my good friend mister chocolate chip ice cream.” She groaned and let her head roll back, her eyes fluttering closed. “God, I’m such a pathetic pig.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “If you’re a pig, then I’m a fucking whale.” I smiled slightly, turning to leave. “Enjoy yourself, okay?”

She waved her dainty little hand in the air, willing me to leave. I obliged.

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Liam had picked me up in a near identical copy of Zayn’s car, but this car was free from the microscopic “scratch” that I’d so viciously carved in the side of his door. He pulled up around back, which I found a bit odd, and when I slid into the cool leather interior, he smiled softly from behind a massive pair of sunglasses.

I frowned slightly, glancing at the empty back seat. “Where’s – “

“Being an ass,” he murmured, sighing heavily and pulling onto a main street. “He’ll meet us there.”

“Does he need more time in the bathroom?” I teased lightly, smirking to myself as an image of Zayn primping himself came to mind. I could see it – Zayn standing close to a mirror, nitpicking over every little imperfection on the smooth skin of his face.

I nearly gagged.

“You’d be surprised,” Bill’s voice broke my train of thought and when I glanced over at him, a subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It widened after a moment, and he cast a sideways look at me. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but he blow dries his hair every single day.”

“He what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled in response. “It’s this expensive hairblower, the same as Kim Kardashian, it makes his hair more shiny.” Pausing to glance at me, he smiled slightly. “I mean, I’m not one to talk, but at least it’s expected with me.”