There Was One More Thing...

I See You

A/N Hey y'all! It's Bailey. I am sorry I haven't been writing much on this lately. Basketball conditioning has started, and I have been busy with vocal lessons and piano too. I am sorry that I haven't been writing or instagraming much. It took me a long time to write my last chapter, because it is the longest one I have written.

John had finally woken up, and he had gone to the bathroom to take a shower and stuff. The only thing I want to do right now- I think.

Soon enough, he comes out of the bathroom, the only thing he was wearing was a towel around his waist. His stomach is nothing but a six pack of abs. He turns around I see a tattoo of a feather, with birds flying out of it. It was all black. It was beautiful.

He turned to me. "Are you ready?" He asked me in the soft, gentle, loving voice of his.

"As ready as I can be," I reply, twirling my curly blonde hair like a little girl when she had a crush on the boy that sat in front of her in class.

I've always hated going shopping, even for myself. My mom loved to shop, and she would drag me along with her.

"Well, where too?" He asked, combing his dark brown hair, and using his fingers to scrunch it back.

"I guess the mall," I sigh.

He slips his boots on, and grabs his jacket, making that the 4th layer of clothes, and walks out the door. I follow. We reach their black mustang, and we pull the doors open and slide in. He slips the key into the ignition and flips it over. We pull out of the hotel.

We arrive at the mall. He pulls into a parking spot, the closest to the door. "Let's get this over with," we both sigh in unison. Before we know it, we both look like- are the goons that walk into the mall laughing hysterically.

We casually stroll into the mall, me with red eyes, smelling like body odor, and laughing tears still running down my face. John has tears too, but he smells a lot cleaner than I. He uses the same Axe Apollo shower gel that my dad did.

I waltz over to the mall map. I look for a store that it wouldn't kill me to go in. I decide on "Spencer's."

When we walk in, I am surrounded by my favorite song "Stressed Out" by Twenty Øne Piløts. They are my favorite band too. I start dancing awkwardly, and it's only awkward because I'm the only one dancing- and because I can't dance. I shimmy over to the clearance rack. I pick out two pairs of ripped jeans, an AC/DC shirt, a Guns and Roses shirt, two flannels, one red and blue, the other red and black, brown boots, and a sage green jacket, with sleeves that feel and look like a grey sweatshirt. I try them on, and they all fit to a tea.

We proceed to checkout. The total comes to $186.45. I gasp. I didn't even think about haw I was going to pay for this. John grabs my arm and puts it against my side. "I've got it," he reassures me. He shows me his credit card. It has the name 'Harry Darry' on nit. He swipes it across the credit card machine. I contain the giggle inside me.

"Thank you, miss," John says politely to the sales clerk.

"No problem! You guys are so cute together!! Have a great day!" I blush when she says that. My cheeks turn a bright red and I start a cold, nervous sweat.

"Umm... We are brother and sister..." I squeak out. I didn't want to say that-

"Yeah," John said, sounding as disappointed as I am. Hmm! I think getting a little giddy.

We walk out of Spencer's, and head over to Auntie Ann's Pretzels, because we hadn't eaten anything yet. I order the hotdog pretzel with cheese, and the cinnamon mini dippers with the glaze. John orders a pretzel with jalapeños, onions, tomatoes, and cheese sauce. The lady who took our order, Alison, as it said on her name tag, held out our bags of pretzels. They still hung in the air when John and I heard the snapping of fingers coming from behind us. As we turned to look back to see who had snapped at us, guts splattered all over our backs. We heard cries of distress from all over. John and I just stood there, dumbstruck. The little girl blinked and her eyes turned all red. I gasp, now realizing who it is. John reaches into his coat for his gun, but finds out that it isn't there.

"Looking for this, John Kavanaugh?" She sneers.

"Carry-" he stops.

"You're lucky that I don't plow your head off right now," she says.

I'm still giving her a blank stare. She looks like a normal little girl, with the exception of her crimson colored eyes.

"You know what?" Carry says with her four-year-old accent. "I am going to blow your- a head off." She points the gun at me. She pulls the trigger.