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TWENTY-THREE; 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆!
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"THAT LITTLE BITCH. I'll kill her."
"What part of 'leave me the fuck alone' don't you understand, Cami?" Percy muttered for the nth time.
Percy decided that he had to get over Clara Rose. For weeks now, she'd been the straitjacket to his sex drive, and a stone in his heart. But really, was it that he'd utterly fallen for the girl or a harebrained form of a crush that existed that only he was aware of? Because, fuck—he'd had enough of it.
Every day he walked by this girl's bedroom across the hall, ridiculous to think of how he slowed down a few paces just to catch a glimpse of her inside. Sometimes—lucky for him—she'd be brushing her hair, picking out clothes for the next day, and smiling at her phone. It became a habit now, even when she wasn't around, despite the variable magnitudes of separation between them.
Percy rubbed at his eyes, equal parts frustrated at the tangent of his thoughts and the hushed expletives Cami was flinging at Clara. Perhaps aversion therapy would help his fixation—Clara's rancid smell, her off-kilter sense of fashion, the annoying fucking sound of her giggles at two am but that was a reason for his hate because of Peter fucking Parker. He was harbouring eternal hatred for Spider-Man and it was starting to show around his classmates.
"Are you listening to me?" Cami shrilled near his ear, finally getting his attention.
Percy peeked an exhausted look from the side of his eyes.
"I said that I will fucking deface your father's deal. You want to do that to our Bobby?"
"Go right ahead," he sighed, staring back at the side view mirror.
What was the point? Bobby was going to murder him, his mother was going to lose her shit. He was a disappointment to his family anyway. Percy went by many names around the company; son of Emmanuel Da Costa's bit on the side, the horrible accident, and his personal favourite: the one that doesn't deserve it. Fuck yeah, he didn't deserve it, especially from his father.
"And Fisk? How about I have my Papa make a call to HAMMER?" Cami continued to threaten.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered honestly.
"Madre de Dios." Cami smacked her forehead with her palm. "I should've known better than to sleep with a kid in high school."
He smirked. "Who's the perpetrator here, Cam?"
Her eyes thinned to razor-width. "You wanted ass, too, Da Costa. Don't get righteous with me."
