Harassenger: Backseat Admirer ✔️

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

"What is that God awful smell?" I walked through the hallway, lit only by one dull bulb that needed to be changed. I passed Trixie's room, where she was possibly going into hysterics after I told her about my fake relationship. Like a beagle to its prey, I sniffed out the malodorous smell until I found the room, and the culprit red-handed...or should I say green. Della Clark Andrews sat on the floor next to a leaning mirror putting on a disgusting green paste onto her face.

The floor creaked beneath me, and Della face twitched toward mine.

"Sorry, I'll leave." I said, starting to walk away but stopped when she called back to me.

"No, come in. I was having a little facial. I was going to do Trixie's but she said she'd cut off my neck and use it as a punch bowl if I touched her face. Would you want to join?" She battered her eyes sweetly, begging me to join. She clearly missed her friends back home, and I missed her having friends so she could leave me alone.

"I don't know; that stuff stinks. It smells like cow piss." I admitted.

"No, it's an all natural product."

"Natural disaster." I muttered.

"Huh?" She asked, vaciously.

"Nothing."

"Come on, sit down. Your eyes are baggy and you look like you need a little pick-me-up." Rolling my eyes, I gave in, sitting Indian style by her in front of the mirror.

Her green painted hands worked diligently on the skin of my forehead and then onto my cheekbones. The substance was cold and itchy, and I made the one mistake of licking my lips in the middle of the process. Yepp, the taste had to be cow piss, I was convinced.

Setting one more glob of the mask onto my dimpled chin, she was done.

"I tried to do Holt's face last night but he's got such a big beard it was impossible. I keep telling him to shave it off but he's insufferable."

"He's got a tiny scar near the bottom of his chin that he tries to hide." I told her, adjusting my sore legs on the floor.

"Oh, I didn't know. There's sure a lot I don't know about him. Like before we were engaged, I didn't know he was so over protective. He doesn't like me going out after midnight, and I like to hang out with my friends and party. I'm afraid I'm going to miss my single life, but I'm sure things will work out." She said.

"Hang out with your friends during the day."

"My friends aren't like you. They like to party and no one parties before midnight." She scowled, acting as if I should have known that.

"Right, well, married women have to grow up some time. Find yourself some new friends." I knew her friends. They were all rich, entitled, and lived in the suburbs on daddy's credit card. They thought they were hot shit on a silver platter but they were cold turds on a paper plate.

"You're my friend, right?" No. Since when did we declare a friendship? Other than death glares fake smiles, and horrible set blind dates by hers truly, I don't remember having a decent conversation with her until now, and it just so happens she's bashing my best friend.

I decided to play nice, trying to get along with the woman who would likely be in Holt's life forever.

"We are frie...fri...friends." I managed to spit out the mother of all deadly words, wishing I could wipe my mouth out with soap.

"Really?"

"Yes, and if you need to talk, you can talk to me." If I tried hard enough, I could manage to deal with her as a friend, or at least a friendly acquaintance. Plus, if I'm nice to her, I can learn all the dirty details about their relationship and tell it to Trixie so we can gossip. Evil? Nah.

"Good, I do need to talk. It's about Holt. Do you think I rushed into this marriage too fast?"

"Yepp." Wow, the honesty flowed out like honey dripping on my lips.

"Really?"

"Yes, but you can't plan love. You are in love, right?"

"Yes, we're happy. We are happy, very happy. Yes, happy, happy, happy." What I got out of that was that she's sad, shit out of luck, and sad. Both of the lovebirds were questioning their vows, and for some reason, confiding in me. I knew I had huge job being the officiant, but I didn't know the job continued after the marriage. I wanted to stay out of their lives, but yet, I keep getting thrown in.

"What the hell is going on in here? Did the walking dead get to the two of you?" By the doorway was Mick, an amused grin on his face.

I felt my face, the paste of green goo thickening as I touched it.

"I'm making your girl hot." Della winked.

"She's already hot. Come on babe, let's go." Did he just call me babe? Oh, right, we're playing the part of a happy couple.

"Gotta go. Thanks for the mask."

"Don't take it off for another five minutes!" She called out.

Mick led me down the stairs and outside onto the porch.

"Babe." I randomly mimicked him, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Hey, you should be lucky I saved you. She's turning you into a clone of her. A monster, literally. Your face is gross." He said, picking at the itchy, green goo and rubbing it between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Stop that." I flicked his hand away, finding the nearby hammock and taking a seat.

Mick climbed in after me, the hammock tipping over to the left so I had to grab onto the wood planks in order not to fall.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Sharing the hammock; what does it look like? Holt is staring at us through the window from the living room, so I'm playing the loving boyfriend that I am." Mick finally came to rest, balancing the netted hammock. I was certain this was only made for one person, but he didn't seem to care. His are slipped under my back to my shoulder, and his body turned to the side covered part of my own body. I could feel his breath against my neck, and thoughts of our first kissed played on repeat like static in my head.

"I like making loverboy jealous. I'm barely touching you and he's probably having an aneurysm." He laughed, but in return, I ignored his ignorant comment.

"Speaking of Holt, you're not the only one who likes to talk about him behind his back." I said.

"Hm?"

I rotated in the hammock, turning so that we were face to face, keeping my head up with the palm of my hand.

"Della was talking about her married life and how she thinks it sucks. That's probably why they're not hanging out right now. They're already having problems and it's their honeymoon. How awful."

"Technically, it's not too late for them to end their relationship. It takes about two weeks to officially file the paperwork at the city court." I never thought about that, and yet I officiated their wedding. Good thing it's not my day job.

"No, they'll work things out." I assured him.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, trailing his hand from my shoulder to my hand. I knew he was acting for show, but his mere touch felt much too real. I shivered, trying to focus on the question at hand.

"I don't like Holt anymore. I don't know what's come over me, but I want them to both be happy, whether that means they are together or not."

"You mean it? You're really over him, huh?" He spoke to me in a mere whisper, but his eyes were the ones I had to answer to. With blue eyes, like the emitted light from a burning fire, he ignited technicolor fireworks into my soul. I felt hot to my core, like I was standing on a piece of the thin blue line of the earth waiting to witness a cosmic collision that he would soon cause.

His usually thin lips curved, and his mouth parted, watching me and studying me as if he were waiting for something. Oh right, he's waiting for me to answer him. Don't I feel stupid. And not to mention, he's probably staring at my monstrous, green mask.

"I'm totally over him." And at that moment, I was a gone pecan. Holt Andrews who? I couldn't remember.