Blaine Sousa:
A man who doesn't care about others opinions.
Cassandra Harper:
A woman who cares a little too much about what people think of her.
When a turn of events brings two strangers together once more it could be lethal, especially in his lin...
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Vincent sits on one of my sofas as I go upstairs to pack a bag.
I need some alone time to think.
Forgetting about the bag for a minute, I slump down onto my bed.
There's one major factor to getting people to trust me and that's opening up. If I open up it encourages others to do the same, or so I've heard. There's one problem with that - I hate opening up.
How does one even go about opening up?
Oh yeah, get this my dad died in a car crash that I was also in, don't worry about it though, it's cool I didn't like him anyway.
Then I have to add context otherwise I look like a heartless monster.
It's not like I didn't care that he was dead, he was my father I cared for him. But another part of me felt relieved and I feel deeply guilty about that so how the fuck am I meant to tell someone and expect them to understand when I don't even understand myself?
I'm just going to have to find something less trauma filled to open up about.
What? I don't know, I'm debating whether or not to make some shit up. It's going to have to sound realistic though. If I start telling lies I'm going to have to keep track of them all so I don't get caught out. Lies always end up with more lies and piles and piles of lies so it's probably not the best option.
I've been up here around 20 minutes and I'm still no closer to solving any of my problems, at this point the problem is probably just me.
I grab a few bags and toss my things in them, dedicating a full bag to a range of books. I doubt I'll get much time to read but I'll need them if I'm to keep my sanity.
I grab the bags, carrying some on my shoulders and in my arms.
I begin walking down the stairs when a voice stops me.
"Need some help with that?" Vincent asks from his place on the sofa.
Frinkles is on his lap and looks up to me waiting for an answer.
Well that's new, Frinkles is definitely not a people cat, there's only a select few people he'll let anywhere near him and he's never warmed up to anyone this quickly except me.
"No I'm good thanks."
I walk down the stairs and both Vincent and Frinkles stand up.
Frinkles walks over to the bag I'm holding in my hand and takes a peek inside.
He looks up to me as if to say 'really?' when he sees it's filled with books.
"Shut up." I say to him.
Frinkles gently taps his paw against his mouth twice.
"Right, thanks for reminding me." I say dropping the bags on the floor and taking off into the kitchen part of the room.
