- Adrenaline -

Chapter 5: Butterfly Intermission.

When I got out of Joans car, the only thing I cared about was getting to my bed. I feel the hard wood front door shut behind me, locking it. Usually my mom is out here watching TV or talking to her friends- when she's not, she's usually napping.
Mom and I are on the same page it seems.

I tread up the stairs. My mother is a huge fan of various types of art. When she found out she was going to be fostering a clone of a famous painter, she did everything she could to make me- or rather, my clone father, feel at home. Paintings from the original Monet decorated the bland beige walls. My bedroom was based off of Bedroom in Arles. It's nice, actually. I push open the thin white door and close it behind me, stepping onto the brown hard wooden floors. My bedrooms a bit more modernized- with a ceiling fan and light. I have a laptop but I don't use it as much as I should.
To the left of the door is what you would see in the painting- a small table with a vase on it, containing some fake flowers. There's a straw chair in front of a folding window that lets light beam in. I've since placed dark blue curtains over it.
My bed is a twin, with white sheets and a red comforter. Lots of my own paintings hang up on the pale blue walls. The ones that I like, anyway.
To the right of the door is a small closet, a desk where I paint and work on school work, and a full body mirror for self portraits. I keep a white sheet over it though. I try my bed to avoid mirrors. For personal reasons.
I kick my flats off and slam myself into my bed, wrapping myself in it's warmth. There's no reason to bother with homework- today was.. too stressful for that. Mama told me there's no point in doing something if you can't do it right- I know what she meant by that.
     She meant that if I can't mentally be present and be able to take in the information, then it's about as good as not doing it at all. It'll be more responsible for me to do it later, when I'm feeling better.

     If I'm feeling better.

     Something about our interaction earlier seemed off. At first, John was cheery, obviously very happy about how successful his party was. After a while his smile faded. Cleo belittled me, Ponce stood up for me, but.. John wasn't really there. I realize now I've been selfish, calling him a stupid jock.
     I'll be honest, I would really appreciate it if i could stop thinking about him. It's not fair- not to me. It's not fair that I made John take care of me at his own party. It's not fair that I slept in his bed and left without a goodbye, and it's certainly not fair that all of this seems to have awoken something in me.
     Something like a gene- a code in my DNA that had been dormant for so long, had been activated by the very thought of spending the night with- with another man.

     UGH that felt weird! Just thinking it in my stupid little head filled my stomach with beetles and moths- like butterflies but more violent, more stabbing. My face is red hot and suddenly the blankets too warm for me anymore. Why am I like this?!
     Girls never made me feel this way. Every girls hand I've ever held was just that- a hand to hold. But when I think back to that night-  I remember analyzing Johns hands as I laid shirtless on the bathroom floor, hot in the face thinking about how his hands could swallow mine whole. I want to hold them. I've never wanted to hold hands with anyone before!

     I take it back- he is a stupid Jock! He's a stupid playboy jock and I hate him! John has no right to make me feel this way.
     God, he's mad me so mad, now I'll never be able to fall asleep.

[really short but hhh. PLEASE keep commenting stuff it helps with my motivation. I plan to make another chapter soon where vin and john interact more!!! But I'm kinda stumped. If you give me an idea and I use it I will very happily credit you!!!]