Addiction

chapter fourteen

¤ TWO UPDATES DIS WEEK ¤

¤ SHORTISH AND PROBABLY SHITTISH CHAPTER I KNOW, SORRY!! HANG IN THERE BUT, CHAPTER 15 IS A 'GOODIN ¤

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BLAKE’S POV:

“I meant what I said but, we’re still getting your quotes,” I inform, reminding her of our conversation before our rant… her quotes.

“It’s you’re fla-“

“I know it is.” My face etches on a sarcastic grin, suited perfectly with my tone of voice. It is my flat, so yes she can put up whatever the fuck she pleases.

“Shut up,” harper groans whilst whacking the side of my arm, clearly accustomed to my continuous demeanour.

“Alright alright,” I defend raising my hands up innocently. “C’mon let’s go. Get changed but, you look shocking,” My conscious teases once again.

She’s only wearing my t-shirt she picked up off the floor and her underwear.

Absolutely no one will see her wearing this, except me.

Did I just say that?

She gasps and harshly smacks my arm again. “You’re asking for it,” the not so intimidating girl threatens as she attempts to scowl but miserably fails as a smile creeps up.

Shaking my head, I walk towards the pile of clothes dumped on the floor. The-Pile-of-Clothes-Dumped-on-the-Floor-That-Harper-Nags-Me-About. She’s a neat freak. I tug on a pair of dark blue chinos and slip on a grey shirt.

Yes I own more than fourteen pairs of chinos, and yes, there the only types of pants I wear except boxers and trackies.

Spinning around glancing.... more like perving; I see harper clothed, wearing high waisted black pants, doc martins, half cut lace shirt and a cream cardigan thing. She is practically chewing on her hair-tie as she messily throws her hair into a bun, adding sunglasses to her pink head to hide and any bumps I’m presuming.

Harper looks beautiful as usual. Her style is edgy and unique, or rebellious as other people like to put it. But I find it beautiful… she’s beautiful… so beautiful it is.

“Lookin good Harp,” I blurt.

Far out.

“Touché B... touché,” The idoit replies back, trying to hide her red cheeks.

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Once the flats locked, we head out onto the street. It’s still miserable and windy as predicted from the tv, and yes Harper is nagging about it.

“Why does it have to be so cold?”

“Because.”

“Why is it so windy? Argh.”

“Because.”

“Is it going to rain Blake?”

“Because.”

I’m listening to her whining the whole way to her house and that’s what I’ve been replying; “because.” I have learnt to block the familiar tone out and automatically reply back with simple words unconsciously. It’s fucking great, well done Blake.

I’m almost glad that I haven’t been outside within the last two days. The North Shore is abundant with wet roads, road rage and tourists flooding the streets trying to sell off dodgy umbrellas. The only thing I love about this shitty town is the size of it. It’s small and suburban; I hate the city with a passion.

In my whole life time I reckon I’ve only been into the centre of Sydney about twice, and I intend to keep it that way.

The thing that pisses me off about Harper is that she’s the complete opposite; she loves it. She loves travelling and all that type of shit, when me on the other hand would rather buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and be on my way… to my flat that is.

I’ve been pressured at least six times this year to go to Melbourne on the weekend with her but I kindly rejected every time. I can’t even imagine myself in ‘Melbourne,’ let alone be in Melbourne with Harper shopping. Nah-uh.

“Blake,” she cuts off my thought. “My streets up this way idoit,” she directs, pointing to the top of the street not the intersection, also laughing at me knowing that I was away with the clouds.

She used to pull at my arm hair in history to pull me out my daydreams. She’s different, very.

I chuckle humorously to myself and stare admirably at her; reminiscing her weirdness, earning a look from Harper. Probably wondering why im laughing to myself.

Without thinking I grab her cold hand and entangle my warm fingers with hers. I quickly look at her reaction, and it’s safe to say that she’s shocked. Shocked at why I’m holding her hand in public, as I am basically a zombie in society and why im actually holding her hand in the first place.

I’m shocked as well, what am I doing?

But the all of a sudden confidence I got grasping her hand sits well with me.

“Blake are you okay? Like seriously what are you doing,” she says with all seriousness.

“I wanted to hold your hand?” I shrug.

“Do you not want me too?”

“People will see us Blake!”

I have no idea why I held her fucking hand in the first place anyway. Well I do... I wanted to know what it was like. I’ve never held a chicks hand before.

Not a chick, Harper.

“Oh sorry,” I say with laced sarcasm, still walking with her annoying hand on mine for some reason. “You don’t want to dint your reputation... I forgot.”

I feel stupid and I begin to pull away, only for Harper’s hand to hold my own tighter.

She looks up and gives me a warm smile.

I’m really confused.

“Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what is we think of it; the tree is the real thing,” she quotes with ease.

“Be quiet,” I grumble, defeated. By the time I work out and decipher what she meant; night will hit, and it will probably make perfect sense anyway.

“Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding,” the literate genius shoots, again.

“Understanding? You’re the one that doesn’t want to be seen in public with me!”

Harper slowly seethes, “That is a fucking lie. It’s not like you to do that and it’s not something you would do presumably with anyone, that’s all.”

“I don’t even know who the fuck I am,” I reveal with a self-inflicted tone. I’m frustrated with myself suddenly for being so closed off, modifying myself for when I’m indoors and out.

“You do know who you are, I know who you are. You alter yourself, ‘giving the people you talk to or surround yourself with. Stop hiding. You are Blake... my Blake,” the neon headed girl releases with all authenticity. Her orbs are fixed onto mine, going in further.

Don’t kiss her for the love of fuck. Contain yourself fool. Later, not now.

Containing myself; I enlace both of our bodies together, giving her a hug. Yes it’s just a pissy hug, but that’ll have to do for the time being.

“We’re here,” she whispers into my ear.

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                 *STAY GROOVY *

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