Lover Boy | Newt (Book 1)

~~ 6 ~~

Cyrah's P.O.V.

   It's certainly a busy morning.

   "Hey, Cyrah, can you come to help me with my room?" Alby yells.

   "No, it's your mess, you clean it!" I call back.

   "Please? You won't have to do anything, you can just tell me where to put the things," he begs.

   "Fine, but only if Newt helps me too."

   "What did I do to deserve the death sentence?" He asks, pretending to be highly affronted. I can tell he's pretending, almost like I had known him before. 

    "Oh, it's just 'cause Cyrah wants to spend time wi---" And there's my cue to block his mouth and smack him. "OW! What was that for?"

   "You know what..." I growled. 

   Newt looks nervous, he's fidgeting with his fingers. I wonder why.

   "Besides, I'm not helping you if you don't stop," I add.

   He raises his hands. "Okay, fine! Stop threatening me!"

   "Let's go and get this over with," Newt says. Alby doesn't say anything to defend himself.

   "Yeah," I agree and we reluctantly trudge to Alby's room.

   "Uhhh..." He says after a while of staring at his bed, shelves, and floor. "I see what you guys mean now," he mumbles while we roll our eyes at him.

   "Whatever, let's just start," I say and take a seat criss-cross on the floor.

   "Well?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "What do I do?" He clarifies.

   I sigh. "First separate all your dirty clothes from your clean clothes. Remember to do laundry today."

   "Does it really matter?"

   "YES!" I yell at him.

   "Okay, fine," he says and immediately starts to pile his clothes. I smirk while Newt zones out. Again.

   "What are you doing?" I ask. He's sniffing his clothes.

   "Doing the smell test," he says as if that's a perfectly normal thing to do.

   "What's that supposed to achieve?"

   "Well, the clothes that smell okay work as clean clothes, and the clothes that smell bad are to be washed," he explains.

   That's gross and inefficient. I wrinkle my nose. "Boys," I mutter under my breath.

   "Well, how do you do it, then?" Alby says defensively.

   "Well, unlike you," I reply pointedly. "I actually organise my clothes first thing. I don't throw my clothes around and try to figure out which ones are clean and which ones are not. I actually take off my clothes and put them in the laundry basket that's outside as soon I change out of them every day."

   "Well, I don't have time for that!"

   "If I do, you do," I retort.

   "Whatever," he mumbles and continues doing the 'smell test'.

   I open my mouth to make a remark and he sees. He hurriedly cuts me off. "I know, don't do the smell test. But I haven't organised it yet, so I have to do that for now."

   "Fine," I say. "Good luck," I add as an afterthought while he keeps piling. 

   "Done!" He says, proudly holding up a pile of dirty clothes.