I Am Not Interested [Francisco Lachowski & Selena Gomez]

Chapter 20

Jay had his arm around my shoulders, trying to balance himself on his feet. I had a grip around his torso and helped him walk. The elevator doors opened and we walked out, laughingly and quiet tipsy. We clumsily approached Jay's apartment door.

"Here you go." I said and he removed his arm which was around me. He was all giggly and I had to say, he's a cute drunk. After unlocking the door he stumbled inside but managed to stand.

"It was a f-fun night, neighbor. We should've gone out sooner." Jay stutteringly termed.

"Yeah, we should have. But don't think that-"

"I know, Clary. Boyfriend." He said, his eyes almost shut. "And you know what? I'm gay...s-so there's that." Jay swayed slightly on his feet.

"I didn't know, I'm sorry if I-" He cut me off once again.

"It's okay. At least n-now you know that I didn't approach you with any latent intention." He smiled goofily.

"Yeah, uhh Jay. Thanks for the drink. You really didn't have to pay for it."

"Oh but I did." I furrowed my brows. "I've heard that you will move out soon and I really wanted to get to know you, hoping we could be friends. See I'm new here ...and I know no one and in a big city like New York it can get lonely pretty quickly." For a moment I could see a pained expression.

"There are so many people but no one that cares about you. You ever felt like you are alone in this big, wide world?"

"Oh you have no idea." I said. "Jay, you need to rest. You are wasted. Goodnight." I said and turned around. He nodded and replied.

"Goodnight."

"Jay?" He was about to shut the door but returned to the same spot as before.

"You are not alone. You've got yourself a friend." Jay smiled and looked at me before closing the door. I walked towards my door and put the key into the keyhole, opening the door and walked in.

"Puh, long day." I said to myself while putting off my jacket.

"Must've been, seeing that you've just arrived." The voice I never wanted to hear again. She was here... mom. I walked backwards and looked in the direction of the living room. There she was, sitting on my couch with a lit cigarette between her fingers.

"How did you know where I live?" I asked, unable to move as if I was glued to that spot.

"Sweetheart, who doesn't?" She said and finally turned around. Her make-up was terribly applied to her face as always; Her face powder was two shades lighter than her actual skin color and the mascara smudged all around her eyes in combination with gruesome orange eyeshadow and a light-pink lipstick. I've always hated that we had similar face features and the same eyes.

"Leave or I'll call the police." I said in a stern voice.

"You wouldn't dare to call the police." She said and placed the cigarette between her teeth.

"Oh, you want to bet?" I said in a low voice, angrily.

"Clarissa, it wouldn't be good publicity if the police arrests your mother in your apartment. What would the people think?"

"'What would the people think?' Are you serious right now?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"It wasn't my wish for you to become famous." I laughed. She got up from the couch.

"It wasn't your wish for me to become successful." I shook my head in disbelief and looked up, licking my lip. I put my hands on my hips and looked at her when she turned around. "Tell me what you want and leave." She smiled like a villain.