Sofia
I'm running up the stairs, leaving him alone in the living room. I kinda feel pity for him, but the thought only has me laughing.
I push my room door open with a thud and march my over to my closet. I'm starting to regret not arranging my closet earlier because what the hell? I'm crying internally at the sight, but I can't really do much, seeing as I'm in a rush.
With my closet in a mess, looking for outfits is extremely difficult. Oh my days! What have I put myself in? Soon enough, I'm clawing my way through the pile of clothes that threatens to swallow me whole with one wrong move.
After what feels like forever, I finally find outfits I'm willing to wear, including pajamas. The only problem is that I haven't found what to wear right now. I'm running a hand through my hair, for what feels like the fifteenth time, in frustration.
I pick up my phone, desperately hoping that I find outfit combos – something that makes sense, something that doesn't look like I tried too hard. I scroll past jackets, dresses, and shirts I've seen a hundred times. Why is this so hard?!
As I'm scrolling, a thought creeps into my head. It's so comical I start thinking I might be crazy, but then again it makes sense. It makes such perfect sense, I almost laugh out loud.
Why am I thinking about what I wear?
I try to pass it off as 'I always think about it,' but that's not the case this time. If that were the case, I'd have worn one of the dozens of outfits I'm currently sitting on top – except that's not it. This time, there is another reason, a reason I am not prepared to accept, so I push it to the back of my mind, allowing myself a breather.
My focus is back on my phone, aimlessly scrolling through the many outfit ideas.
This is pointless
I'm about giving up when my eyes land on an outfit style I'd never tried on before. Comparing the images to my 'closet' on the floor, I almost leap up after finding all the outfits meant for the combo at my disposal. I don't even think twice before standing up from the pile of clothes, gathering the ones I know I'll need, and heading straight for my bathroom.
I'm staring at the mirror in awe. The white crop top I'm wearing is loose, making it fall off one shoulder to reveal a strap of a black bra top that goes perfectly with the short, black ruffle skirt, paired together with fishnet tights and a pair of black loafers.
Knowing I still have to finish up, I reluctantly look away. I style my hair in an updo – messy bun to be exact, put on some lip gloss.
I stare in the mirror again, admiring my handiwork before taking a photo.
Yes, I looked that good.
Soon enough, I'm heading downstairs. I hadn't even realized I kept Xavier waiting for over an hour. The thought has me feeling guilty, and I'm planning an apology in my head as I make my way down the stairs.
I hadn't even reached to top of the stairs when I heard voices coming from downstairs. The voices belong to my sister and Xavier. Two people I never thought were capable of having a conversation. Actually, it's not like they aren't capable; it's just one of them finds the other too annoying to talk to. It's kind of funny, the more I think about it. I'm about to come down the final flight of stairs when something I hear stops me in my tracks.
"You're fucking yourself real hard if you think I want to be friends with you."
The comment has me laughing, but not out loud, of course.
I couldn't bring myself to believe that he would suddenly agree to get to know her. I mean, yeah, it didn't take too long for him and me to be friends, but the bond we have started when he saw me at my lowest.
I suddenly find myself taken back to the day he found me. That day, after I told Sandra off, I could feel several eyes on me and, as always, I pulled my hair down in an attempt to block them off. But that's not why I left the cafeteria. After unknowingly locking eyes with a particular pair, I couldn't bring myself to stay there any longer. I started suffocating and needed fresh air.
He found me not long after and helped me. He didn't even know me, yet he helped anyway.
There's that feeling again.
"But you're friends with my sister, why can't you be friends with me?"
Sandra's voice cuts through my thoughts rather annoyingly, and I can't seem to hold myself back anymore.
"He just doesn't. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?" I'm coming down the stairs now, and I can get a clear view of the position they're both in.
She's on her knees, in front of him, and her hands on his thighs.
You're kidding me
Something inside me sparks, and I don't even realize I'm walking up to them until I'm dragging Sandra to her feet by her hair. I push her away from him without a second thought. His response to that is a low chuckle, but the glare I give him shuts him up.
He gets up and raises his hands in sarcastic surrender before coming closer to me and leaning in to whisper something.
"The amount of time you spent upstairs was definitely worth it," I can feel my cheeks redden. With how close he is, I can feel his breath against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Let's get going," I nod in response.
"Sandra," I call out to her retreating form.
"What?" she throws over her shoulder, not bothering to spare either of us a glance. Her tone lacks its overly sweet touch; she'd make sure to add whenever we aren't alone, making her sound exactly like me. It's almost weird considering I barely hear her normal voice, and it's nice for a change.
"I won't be home for the weekend, so don't wait up."
"I don't care," and with that, she marches up the stairs.
Shoving the pack I brought along into his hand, I drag Xavier away from the living room since it seemed his legs were glued to their spot.
"This is stupid," I throw my arms out in exasperation
"You said you wanted to play," he doesn't even bother holding in his laugh. I kick him in his shin from under the table we're sitting at, but that does little to shut him up.
"Alright, let's try again". He raises an eyebrow. "This time, actually listen to me". He starts gathering the cards and reshuffling them.
I don't know what I was thinking when I insisted we play poker. I must have forgotten that the first time we met – saw each other – was at a casino. But curiosity got the better of me after finding out he has a poker table at home. After a lot of insisting, he finally brought it out, and now I'm losing badly.
"Your move"
The cards in front of me are anything but friendly, and I can't help running a hand over my face. After dealing with each other, it's time to lay out our cards.
"Beat that," he says confidently, gesturing to his cards now lying on the table. I can't help but grin at the sight. Finally, I'm gonna win.
"Oh, I think I just did." I spread my cards out, and the sight leaves his mouth agape.
"A royal flush", his voice is laced with amusement, "not bad for someone with three straight losses".
I kick him again, this time while laughing. He raises his arm out in false surrender before speaking again, "I think that's enough poker for today." I simply nod in agreement before getting up from my chair.
I help him pack up the cards while he carries the table back to its storage space.
I plop down on one of the couches, intending to rest my head for a while. Pulling out his phone, Xavier sits next to me, and silence surrounds us. And for a while, we're both content sitting in comfortable silence.
Tired of straining my neck against the back of the couch, I lay my head against a nearby pillow, forcing my body to lie down on the couch. I find the position very comfortable, and I can feel my body relax against it. The occasional stroke of my hair makes it even better – huh?
Occasional stroke of my hair?
My brows pull together as I lazily lift my head, strands of hair falling over my face. My eyes meet his – he's sitting there, phone in hand, thumb still hovering over the screen.
It doesn't take me too long to understand – my head had been on his lap.
He seems the least bit bothered about the position I had just been in.
I'm about to say something, but he beats me to it
"I thought you were asleep," I stare at him. He almost looks amused.
"Go on", he says, his tone soft, "you can lie back down, I'm not complaining." he finishes his sentence with a grin, and I'm sure my cheeks go red.
He just permitted me to rest on his lap. The whole situation leaves me flustered.
I should probably move, sit up, something – but I just sink back down into the comfort of his lap.
And when he starts stroking my hair again, I don't stop him.
We're in that position for a long time, not saying anything but enjoying the comfort we found in each other.
The doorbell rings, interrupting us.
With an apologetic sigh, he gently raises my head from his lap.
"I'll go see who it is," he strides out of the living room, leaving me to miss the comfort of his thigh.
It doesn't take too long before he's back in the room, only this time he's not alone.
He takes his seat next to me once more, and the urge to lie back down on him is greatly overshadowed by the sudden shyness of doing that in front of his cousin – correction – in front of Daniel.
I reach an arm out to my eyes and sigh in relief when I feel my glasses still in their protective position – over my eyes.