My Lovely Jerk {Completed}

Chapter - 25

My eyelids fluttered open and I found myself lying stomach down in my full size bed. The sun was seeping in through the cracks of the blinds and I knew it must be twelve thirty-five in the afternoon.

Groaning, I flipped over to lay on my back. In doing so, I noted that I was not sleeping in my normal position because my head was at the foot of the bed and my feet were touching the wooden headboard.

Blankets were crinkled and in a complete disarray under me. I realized then that I'd somehow fallen asleep over the course of my emotional night.

Sighing, I remembered thrashing my arms and legs around on my bed with anger and frustration not but ten minutes after Bryson left my bedroom. After spazzing out, on my bed, I paused before punching my mattress while picturing it was him and I was killing Bryson ... repeatedly. Pitiful thing was when I was satisfied with the brutal death of the bed --Bryson -- I realized how stupid and 'immature' my actions were and tried soothing the bed with apologetic words. I really hit an all time low when I started crying and telling the bed I was a horrible person for killing it.

Laughing, now, I thought of how silly I acted after he left my room.

Getting off the bed, I stretched when my feet were planted firmly on the ground. With a yawn, I felt my bones and muscles move in surprising soreness.

Ignoring the slight pain, I walked to the bathroom door that was off of my room. Opening the room, I walked in and exhaled because I had a feeling that today was going to be a long day.

***

Walking into the kitchen, I found myself confronted by the heavy scent of Bryson's coconut and vanilla smelling cologne.

Balling my fist up by my side, I pleaded with myself not to go in here with a smile on my face. I was supposed to be mad at him, in some shape or form.

I nibbled on my bottom lip as I caught sight of his figure that was right in front of the coffee pot. Silently, I questioned why I was supposed to be mad at him. So what if he left my room last night in the midst of us talking! So what if he acted so damn bipolar last night! It shouldn't bother me ... but it did because, I like him. I, for some reason, like the insane, annoying, jerk that was mere feet from me.

"Want some coffee?" Bryson asked as he looked at me over his broad shoulder.

I shook my head and trudged over to the fruit bowl that was on the far right counter. Reaching it, I picked a banana from the bowl and walked out of the kitchen without saying one word.

Entering the living room, I clicked on the television and flipped through the channels. I finally decided on the Animal Channel at which the show "Monsters Inside of Me" was on. Sitting there I ate my banana and watched about a girl, around sixteen-years-old, who had a parasite in her but the doctors couldn't figure out that that was what was making her sick.

"Can we go see Peter today?" I asked as I sensed Bryson lingering in the doorway of the living room.

With the sound of feet shuffling, I saw Bryson walk in front of me before taking a seat next to me on the suede couch. "Yeah. Do you want to do it before or after Randall's funeral?" He inquired with his eyes glued on the T.V.

"After, I suppose ... but before we go to the funeral ... there is one place I would like to go to." I said slowly as I began to wonder if what I was thinking was such a good idea.

"Where?"

"My father's home ... I need to talk to him," I stated as I began to plot a way to put my mind at ease. I really wanted to confront him about my memory because I needed to know what he wanted with Bryson. I couldn't sit on the sidelines and wait for another memory to come that may or may not give me answers. I had to face this problem head on because I knew every day that I waited, the more I'd stress over the situation at hand.