wrong number- dreamwastaken

fifteen

"so why did you come here after i told you not too." i say, wiping my messed up mascara with a makeup wipe.

me and clay were downstairs eating and talking then he kept judging my makeup so i went to my bathroom to clean it up, and someone is a bit clingy so he followed, sitting on the counter, right infront of me. but i moved to the right a little so i could see the mirror.

"i wanted to see you." he shrugs, watching me wipe of my mascara with full concentration.

"i literally could've been a 60 year old man and you wouldn't know." i furrow my eyebrows.

"well judging by the way you have 12 year old humour and the way you text, you couldn't be over the age of 35." he decides. still very intently watching me.

i notice him at the corner of my eye and say, "you good? want to take a picture?"

"never thought you would ask." he says, taking out his phone and snapping a photo.

"bitch ass i was joking i am not prepared for photo." i turn to him with sass.

"i don't care you look fine." he shoots back, looking at his phone. i just roll my eyes, still trying to clean off my mascara.

once im finished i pop open the bin and throw the makeup wipes in there.

"did you wipe off the rest of your makeup to?" he asks, noticing i look different.

"well i kinda had to so it didnt look shit that i had makeup everywhere apart from my cheeks."

"oh so you did?"

"what i just said." i confusingly say

"no wonder you look ugly." he jokes.

"yeah yeah shutup." i say, leaving the room, him quickly following behind. i don't really take insults to heart, and neither does he so i guess we can just bully the fuck out of eachother and not get offended.

we head into my room and both sit on either side of my bed.

"hey this is where i split my pants." i laugh, remembering what happened. clay asks me what happened and i explain how i leant down to get my charger, then spliting my pants.

"how the hell does that even happen?"

"i dunno i just have a fat ass."

"george's is fatter." clay wearily says. i slowly turn my head to him, my eyes following.

"get out. deadass. get out of my bed. get out of my room. get out of my house. get out of my life. your number is blocked." i say, no emotion showing on my face. "deadass."

"i'm good." he says, putting his hands behind his head and relaxing.

"your lucky your cute." i roll my eyes.

"i am?" his eyes light up, along with his smile.

"no your ugly." i laugh.

"thats what we have in common." he shrugs. i just playfully roll my eyes and lay down. he stays sitting up against the headboard.