The Saint Jones [Completed]

chapter 12: Red dress

Sether

"Are you converting yourself?" As I'm putting my black shirt on and buttoning it up, Justin's voice rings in the room.

Damn, I should have known better than inviting him to my room. Tonight is our first night of not working— of course, the other groups are working. There are a batch of five groups, so all of us can enjoy— and since it's our first night, as we always do, we decided to enjoy the night, even though I personally don't want to.

It would have been better for me to stay here, grab a book and read it until my eyes burn, but I know my colleagues — my friends, as we may call ourselves now— they won't let me stay here alone, Justin practically forced me earlier.

After the meeting with the 'boss', my mood was so low that I wanted to do nothing but sleep. I was on my nerves and it was asking for relieved, but for their own sake, I haven't. Justin was sticking behind me, and he's still here, annoying me. His presence is sometimes irritating but Justin is Justin, I can't get enough of him.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." His annoying voice resurfaced again.

I walk towards my closet, looking through a bunch of belts. Which one will be better, the dark one or the gray one? Well, I guess the dark one will better fit.

"Come on, don't play this with me, I'm listening Sether, answer my question." He follows close behind me, I can feel his annoying presence behind me while I'm getting a hard time putting the belt properly.

"You are the most annoying person I have ever met in my life." The words leave my mouth and I walk past him, one hand on my belt trying to keep it the way it is and the other grabbing my sunglasses.

"What! Is it annoying to ask what is happening in the head of my friend?" He asks and walks towards me again, his footsteps are loud on the red carpet as he walks.

"Nothing is happening in my head," I reply while I keep on fighting with that stupid, annoying belt that doesn't want to cooperate.

"Do you want help?" Justin places his head on my left shoulder and peeks down, I give him a glance that I hope he understands because he is playing with my nerves. My hands are itching to punch him in the face, precisely on his mouth, so he can stop talking.

He puts his hands in the air, giving up completely as he understands what I meant by the glance.

"But let's be clear between us, I wasn't going to help you, I would have called this beautiful woman with whom I saw you earlier and yesterday. She would have done a better job than me, right?"

He says and the image of this beautiful woman emerge in my mind, from her silky hair that I can't stop thinking about, her beautiful thin lips attached to her red lipstick, the way she speaks, shy at first but then she knows how to get comfortable, and the way she dress, cool and sexy, she has everything to please.

She is really different, I can't argue with this, she doesn't rush anything and I like that. Whenever I talk to her, I can see her shyness and it oddly excites me. She's an exception because before her I have never spoke to a woman who tried to talk to me before, besides, I ignored them. But she, she has something so different and mysterious that I can't put my fingers on for now.

"Are you ready?" I ask, not answering his question, he is so disturbing, plus, he is a storyteller, he can change everything of what I will tell him. He can be my friend but sometimes friends can't change, he definitely can't change.

"Why are you changing the subject?" He asks while he keeps on following me whenever I'm going.

I turn around and look at his face, his white face— a bit too white— that he has shaved for tonight, apparently he is thinking of bringing someone in his room at the end of the night, something he couldn't wait to do weeks before.