Rules With Roomies

Chapter 7

The day had carried on, my headache subsided, but Oliver still being a little rip. He would constantly make fun of me as much as he could, and made as many comments about Nate as he could. What a child.

"Elle," he began seriously, flipping a small plastic football in the air, "you should wear leggings more often, show off your booty." My face got hot, there was seriously something wrong with him. I'd never met someone who could call me ugly, and then bring my butt up five minutes later. As much as Oliver bothered me, I still felt like compliments from him were few and far between, so it did make me feel special. 

"You're a toad, I hate yo-" My phone began to go off, I squeaked seeing Nate's name light up on the screen. I took a deep breath before answering, not wanting to seem to desperate or excited. "Hey, Nate!" I glanced over at Oliver, who immediately rolled his eyes. Oliver then crawled beside me, and tried to listen in on the conversation. I tried to elbow him away, but failed miserably. 

"Hey, beautiful, mind if I come over?" My eyes snapped to Oliver again, no way, no way, no way. Oliver's eyes lit up. He ripped the phone out of my hands, and cleared his throat. 

In the girliest voice he could muster, he said, "Oh, yes, that would be great!" I snatched the phone back and punched him. 

"Sorry! That was-"

"Okay," Nate interrupted cheerily, "sounds great! I'll be there in 20!"

I was in awe. How stupid was Nate? Oliver's voice literally sounded like a 70-year-old crack whore. Why me? Why was this happening to me? "Oliver," I huffed, "I am going to murder you." I did not want Oliver embarrassing me, which knowing him, was all that was going to happen today. This was going to suck so badly, and I doubt there was a way out of it. 

"What did I do, sugar lumps?" He acted innocent, he was Satan. 

I was preparing a salad in the kitchen, since that was probably the easiest thing to make ever, while humming my Michael Jackson tunes. Oliver would mockingly scream, "HEE-HEE!" every five minutes, but I was still enjoying myself; until I heard knocks at the door. 

Me and Oliver's eyes connected instantly, and then it was a mad dash to the door. He beat me, but with my built up speed, I plowed him over and opened the door. I left out a huff, and smiled at Nate, who looked a little confused. "Well, hello to you too," he said awkwardly. 

Oliver shoved his head into view and grinned, "Hey, pal, how are you?" Nate immediately stiffened. This was seriously going to be the worst day of my life. Oliver's arm snaked around my shoulder, "Well, let our guest in!" 

"Oliver, it isn't our guest, get out of here!" I hissed at him, he simply shook his head and plopped down on the couch. I watched Nate walk in and survey the area, he nodded slowly.

"It's really nice in here, Ellie," he smiled at me. 

"Thanks," Oliver cut in, "None of this stuff is Elle's so yeah, it is pretty nice." 

Kill me. 

I knew this was going to be a nightmare, I knew Oliver would try his best to ruin me. I kept thinking of excuses for Nate and I to be alone. Would it be weird to bring him into my bedroom? "Nate, why don't I show you my room? Then we can talk in priva-"

"Actually," Oliver obnoxiously cuts in, "Elle has the flu, so I have no doubt in my mind right now that her room is a cesspool of germs. You'd probably be better off to stay in the living room." If looks could kill, Oliver would've been dead on the floor with the way I was eyeing him up. He was a weasel.

"Ellie, it's cool. We can hang out in the living room," Nate smiled. Leave it to Nate to handle Oliver's obnoxious tendencies with kindness and a smile. I sighed, and walked myself over to the couch. I plopped down on the couch in defeat, and then Oliver smugly sat down on the couch as well; followed by Nate. I had to wonder when Chris would be home, because he would at least be on my side. Right now it felt like I was fighting a mental battle with Oliver, and Nate was stuck in the cross fire. 

Oliver turned the TV on and began flickering through all the channels. He stopped on the Food Network. "You know," he began with a chuckle, "Elle tried to cook the other day, and nearly caught the house on fire." My face began to heat up, whether it was from anger or embarrassment, I was unsure. 

"You assh-"

"Well," Nate cut me off, "I prefer to cook meals for my girls anyway. A woman isn't just for cooking and cleaning, it's cute you aren't good at it." Nate smiled at me. He called me his girl, that was cute. He also throwing Oliver's stupid sexist jokes in his face, even cuter. 

I could hear Oliver quietly scoff. "All I'm saying is, the girl doesn't even have a job, she could at least cook or clean." The day continued on like that. Oliver firing shots, me attempting to defend myself, and Nate brushing off everything Oliver said. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Nate truly was such a gentleman, and Oliver was such a dick. 

Nate finally left at around five p.m. When I closed the door behind him, I sighed. Fighting that war with Oliver was exhausting when I was so sick; but that didn't stop me from being pissed off. 

I stormed over to Oliver, "What the fuck was that? Why can't you just act like a normal person when I have someone over?!" He looked at me like he was bored for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the TV. "Oliver, I am talking to you, you big idiot." He continued to ignore me. I grabbed a pillow from the couch and whacked him over the head with it. 

He jolted up and stared at me with hatred. "Ellie Weir, if you hit me with a pillow one more time, I-"

The door opened, "Hey, kids, I'm home!"

"Hey Chris!" I ran to him, "How was your day?" 

"My day was alright," he looked at me closer, "Why do you look so pale, Ellie?"

"It's been a rough day," I glared at Oliver.