Someone To You✔

Three

She gave me one minute to complain about the sleeping arrangements. I pace back and forth along the small room, Oliver lying on the bed on his phone.

"Stop doing that," he mutters.

I ignore him, continuing to walk back and forth but putting more pressure down to make the walking noises louder.

"Stop it, or I'll make you, you're being annoying," Oliver says louder.

I laugh, an obnoxious laugh. I hear him moving around on the bed for a second and then suddenly in a flash he's stood in front of me. His brown eyes are stern. His hands are around my wrists and he's breathing heavily.

"You are so fucking annoying," he spits, his voice angry as he throws my arms down. He shakes his head before turning around and walking to the bathroom. He slams the door behind him, as loud as he can.

I stand there for a second in a trance.

He's so annoying. I hate him, I don't even know why he hates me.

I hear the shower running, I have 5 minutes to change into my pajamas. I open my black bag, moving everything to the side until I find the oversized band shirt and small black shorts. Without even thinking twice I strip my clothes off, throwing to the side, and pulling the pajams on. They fall loosely on my tiny body.

I slide my bag to my side of the double bed, sitting on the edge to stare out the window at the moon. The moon shines down onto the blue sea, the stars obvious because of the lack of streetlights lining the beach. It's a lot quieter now, just those occasional couples and dog walkers. The pier is lit up a bright colour of blue, a few of the attractions still whirring around.

The shower stops running and the room fills with silence, I groan and move into the middle of the bed. I use the throw that those fancy hotels have at the end of the bed to cover my body. I lean over to his side and turn the TV on. I flick through a few channels and eventually stop on a channel playing one of my favourite shows How I Met Your Mother, I curl into a small ball, getting comfortable.

"Why are we watching this shit?" Oliver groans as soon as he leaves the bathroom. I don't bother to look at him.

"You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you?" I sass. "I like this show, I like how it's funny and plays with your feelings," I shrug.

"You are so fucking weird," he grumbles.

"You swear too much," I utter, moving my eyes to him. He has the audacity to stand there in a towel, his body still wet and his hair covering his face.

"You complain too much," he says, walking past me and to his bag. "Stop looking at me, freak," he confidently says. I quicky snap my head back round to the TV. He searches through for some clothes before heading back to the bathroom.

Idiot.

I stare forward until my eyelids feel heavy, soon enough I find myself in a sleep on the bed. That is until a finger rudely stabs into my side. I flinch up, sitting up. The first thing I see is Oliver hovering over me, now fully clothed. He stares down at me, his eyes bored.

"What, why did you wake me?" I mutter, pushing his boney hand away.

"You're in the middle of the bed, move." He sighs, standing up straight again. He walks to the curtains.

"What are you doing?" I ask, sliding over to the left.

"Closing the curtains-"

"-Don't! I have a fear of the dark!"

"I don't care." He bluntly says back.

"Oliver, please," I plead.

He rolls his eyes. He walks back to the light and turns it off. It goes dark, apart from the soft light shining through the window. It's dark enough to see the shadows, not dark enough to scare me.

He throws himself down onto the right side of the bed, staring up the ceiling.

"Goodnight then," I whisper. He groans as a response. I dig myself under the covers as does he. I stare out the window, the lights on the ferris wheel shining.

"Is it childish to put up a pillow wall?" He asks, his voice sluggish.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I don't hesitste to ask.

It goes silent for a few moments.

"Because I know what they say about you," he whispers.

"What?" I question, not bothering to move my empty gaze away from the spinning ferris wheel. "What do they say?"

"You're a psychopath, insane, crazy, just everything, the worst person ever, you're just not what anyone wants to get involved with, a slut," he doesn't even hesitate to say all that. Each word feels like a stab to my gut, I can feel the physical pain in my stomach as my heart drops.

"Who says that?" I continue to ask through the pain.

"My friends."

"But why?"

"You dated Jay, remember?"

"It barely counted as a relationship. He's not over the fact me and him broke up. It's been 2 years why is he still saying all this shit about me? Why does everyone believe him?"

"You're a mistake to get close to, Elle. We all know that." He grumbles. I sink further into the pillow.

"I'm not anything like that," I say, my voice pleading with him to understand that I'm not insane or a slut.

"Whatever. Just go to sleep," he moves around for a second before silence.

"Let me prove it to you," I beg.

"I don't want you too, after this I never want to talk to you again. None of us will ever forgive you." He hisses. Why is he being so mean? We still have 2 nights together.

I exhale, my heart stopping.

"All for dating the wrong guy? You've never even spoken to me before this, only assumed because he's being petty. It's been two years," I say, not even focusing on what I'm saying.

"Whatever, Elle."