I walked home still feeling queasy from earlier. My mind was still fixated on the girl at the front of the bus. Her boyfriend's a dick, but seems to be nice to her. She looked so sad too. I wonder what she's thinking right now. Maybe Daniel will know her.
As soon as I got inside the house, I was faced with deafening silence. Of course. How could I forget? Mum had found a new job at a fancy tech company. At home, she would always be in the kitchen, cooking some weird new concoction she'd come up with. I sighed. Home. God, I wish I was back there. Dad and mum used to have such a strong relationship. I always used to catch them sneaking kisses behind my back. At the time, I thought it was gross(I was about seven) but now I realize they loved each other. That all changed one day.
I dumped my bag on the entrance and made my way to the kitchen, which was almost non-existent, taking into account how small it is. Opening the fridge, it was mostly empty apart from a bottle of milk, some cheese and an oven pizza. It'll have to do.
I take it out and open the oven, seeing a big lasagne with a note.
'Can't have my baby getting hungry now can I? -Mum'
I chuckle and thank her silently. I was starving. My stomach felt empty because of the puking. Thank god Daniel was there. That reminds me, I need a shower, I stink.
I plated up some lasagne and watched the telly for a bit before taking a shower. As I got out of the bathroom in a towel, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I hesitated before answering.
"Hello?"
"Skye, right?"
"Uh, that depends, who is this?" I reply cautiously.
"I'm coming to your house."
My eyes widened in panic. What the fuck? Who was this?
"Who the hell are you? And how do you even know where I live? What do you-"
I was cut short when the answering machine played. But I was quickly brought out of that trance when the doorbell rang. Why me god, why me? I walked slowly towards the door and looked in the peephole, seeing a hooded figure in the way. Fuck. Me. To. Hell. I opened it slightly, and the guy pushed his way in, his hood falling down in the process. It was Lucas. I sighed in relief and then gained my composure.
"What the fuck dude? It was you on the phone? You scared the shit out of me. Jesus." I exhale.
He raised his eyebrow in amusement.
"I never knew you swore like that, Skye. Damn, sounds sexy in that accent."
My face fell. Oh fuck, he was a douche. Of course. First day here and I get stuck with the asshole. Great, my life is a soap opera.
"Seriously? You have a girlfriend dude, I'm not that naïve. So do me a favour and close the door on your way out."
"So what if I have a girlfriend? Did I say I was here to get in your pants? Nope."
"So what are you here for? What's so important that you had to stalk me on my way home?"
"Turns out, I need Spanish tutoring."
I roll my eyes and point him in the direction of the living room.
"I'm going to change. Don't touch and we should be fine."
"Hey, you kinda look good in that towel, any chance of you taking it off?" He asks with a smirk.
I scoff and roll my eyes.
"I wouldn't go near you in your dreams."
I start walk up the stairs and close my door, getting changed. As I'm choosing my shirt, my door bursts open. I shriek and grab one, putting it in front of my chest. I had a bra and pants on, but I still felt weird.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET OUT YOU PISSTAKER!"
His laughs fill the room, as he puts his hands up in surrender, and shuts the door on his way out. I roll my eyes, and finish changing, walk down the stairs in some jeans and a baggy shirt. As I go into the living room, he's sitting on the couch, with a plate of the lasagne in his hands, that looks like he's got all the lasagne on. I glance at him suspiciously before checking the lasagne dish, which is empty and dumped in the sink. He ate my fucking lasagne. Are you shitting me right now?
I storm back into the living room and stand in the way of the TV.
"Hey! Why you gotta be like that?!" He frowns, looking up at me.
I snatch the plate of lasagne off him, and shove him out of the way, plopping myself on the sofa next to him, eating it.
"You know, our spit just touched. That's an indirect kiss right there. We're practically already soulmates." He says smugly.
I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him, but it ends up working more in his favour than mine cause he just laughs at it. I eat the lasagne while watching Stranger Things on Netflix, and Lucas just kind of stares at me. When I'm finally done, I wash my plate in the sink and sit next to him again.
"So, Spanish?" I ask him.
"I'm shite at it."
"Maybe that's because you can never actually be bothered to try?" I say sarcastically.
He stands up and looks down at me furiously.
"Look, you don't know shit about me. So why don't you do your fucking research before opening up your mouth." He scoffs and begins to walk out.
"Look, I didn't mean it." I say apologetically.
"Just forget having Spanish lessons okay? If you wanna help go teach my girlfriend. She's shit at it too."
And with that, the door slams, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
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