Fire Starter

Chapter Fifteen

Here's a dumb little Filler Chapter...

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"I have a proposal for you."

It was Zayn who had just walked in the front door. His voice surprised me because I had thought he was Mason.

"What are you on about?" I said, irritably. That was definitely something Zayn would say whenever I began prattling, unable to form coherent sentences. Living with him was starting to rub off on me, I swear it.

I hadn't yet decided to look up at him, or even really processed what he had just said as I was in the midst of watching The Bachelor rather intensely, because it was an intense moment to see who would get the rose and who would go home.

I watched as the bachelor distributed roses, one by one to a girl, ones whom were worthy of being his wife. Then there ended up being two roses left, and three girls.

Please give Danielle the rose, I mentally beg repeatedly. I didn't care for the other two who had really bad attitudes, if Danielle would just be saved tonight, I would go to sleep happily. She was a sweetheart. The bachelor, Liam, should have chosen her first.

I heard Zayn start a sentence as he sat down one cushion away from me.

"No, no, no! Zayn, Dammit. Don't talk!" I leaned forward in agitation, removing my foot from the coffee table.

At first I thought he was grumbling confusedly, because I had just asked him what he was talking about, only to turn around and tell him to shut up.

Then, I heard him laugh, but I didn't pay him much attention at the moment. One of the mean girls had just gotten a rose, the ugly one, and so now it was down to Danielle and the pretty mean girl.

Suddenly when the bachelor opens his mouth to speak the name of the last girl he wanted to give the flower to, the screen goes blank for a split second, then there's a Macy's commercial.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I half yell, my heart pounding as if my love life was on the line. "How can I fucking wait three fucking minutes to find out if Danielle gets the fucking rose?" I turn to Zayn with a hurt look, nearly yelling.

The sense of using fucking too much, had come from Mason who uses the word after almost everything. He was running off on me just as much as Zayn.

It's a great thing that both males weren't complete slobs, because surely I would turn into one. There was that balance Mason making messes for someone to clean them up, and Zayn cleaning up after himself, most of the time.

Zayn's eyes are glued onto my face as if I were his favorite show, humored and fascinated.

"You've got three long minutes," I sigh. "What was it that you had to say?"

I wasn't really interested in his words at the moment, even though I often loved to hear him speak.

"Never mind," he smiles, reaching across the couch towards my hand. "It can wait."

I start questioning his movement, "What are you doi--"

Abruptly, he snags the remote from my hand, and I almost throw myself at him but couldn't. Even though my stitches had dissolved within a few days, there was still that tight ache in the center of my thigh that refused to let me bend over or even crouch. Throwing myself around wasn't an option.

"Give me the remote!"

"Hold on," he dodges a book that I throw by jumping up from the couch, then fidgets with the remote. Suddenly with out wasting two and a half minutes of doing nothing, the show is back on, because he's fast forwarded the television through the commercials. I had known you could pause the show, but not fast forward.