Pretty Venom |N.H|

98

Jasey Foster

Five months later.

"Jasey! Help me with these boxes!"

I groan into the pillow on the couch, my face squished against the cushions as I fight the urge to lay here and sleep for the rest of the day. That sounds like a really good plan.

His voice booms through the door, the sound of his volume and the request he is asking from me is enough for me to lay here and pretend I'm sleeping to get out of it, but I know I didn't do a good job at hiding my groan, seeing that he scoffed to himself just seconds after when he heard my nonverbal complaint.

"My arms hurt!" I shout back to him in defense before he can call me out for my reaction. They really do. I can already feel my triceps starting to burn. Not by a lot, but I definitely feel something that wasn't there say, twenty minutes ago. "I'm taking a break."

"You carried one bag in and it held maybe five sweatshirts," he argues back, seeing through me. "There is no way you are sore from carrying just that."

I sit up on the couch, looking over the back of it just enough for my eyes to peer over the top cushion. "I had to haul them up the stairs too," I continue, really trying to sell myself here. "It was a whole thing." I slouch back down on the couch, folding my arms over my chest and laying down again. I shut my eyes in hopes of finding peace and repeat, "My arms hurt. Just a little break."

I can hear the beat of his feet hitting the floor, and I can hear him set down a box as he says, "Nope. I won't allow it."

A few beats later and he is standing in front of the couch. I can picture his face exactly, considering my eyes are closed.

"J!" he exclaims as he gets a good look at me, noticing how serious I am taking this act. I'm laying with my eyes shut, seeming asleep. "You're joking. You have to be," he says. I peek an eye open to see him look down at the floor, seeing his bag that I set right in front of the couch. "You didn't even walk it to my room."

"It's all of your winter sweatshirts, the heavier ones," I defend. "They weigh like fifteen pounds and while that isn't heavy, carrying them up the stairs wasn't fun."

"Why didn't you take the elevator?" he questions me.

Why didn't I?

Would have made it easier, for sure.

"Why do you feel the need to be so judgemental today?" I ask him instead. "I'm here with you, helping you move into your apartment and this is how I'm treated?"

"J, baby, my love," he says, buttering me up with his words like they will change my mind. It's starting to work, but not enough. "You carried one bag. Please, I could really use your help."

I lay down on the couch, kicking my feet up and getting comfortable with the pillows. "Did you pick this couch out? It's comfy."

"I did, and I know it is. That's why I bought it. Come on, now." He reaches a hand out to me, then both of them when he sees that I'm not interested in moving. His hands grip my arms, and he pulls me up so I'm now sitting. "What do I have to do for you to help me?"

I slowly smile, turning my mouth into a cheesy grin. I watch Niall's eyes glimmer with excitement for just one second before he shakes his head quickly, snapping himself out of it.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but no," he denies to my surprise. "If I do anything with you right now, I will never finish moving in." He turns around and walks away from me before his body can make its own reaction that would counter what he said due to weakness. "I need to get everything situated in here first."