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(04) Balls Of Fury

(04) Balls Of  Fur

I step out of the bathroom, a little awkward and out-of-my-skin. Like I’m exposed and there are so many eyes staring at me. You know what that git made me wear? A blue Toy Story pajama with matching Ninja Turtles sweatshirt. Dickhead.

Holding my sweaty clothes from earlier, I stand in front of Liam who had resumed his position on the couch. He removes his gaze from the screen and runs his eyes over my body, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Now don't you look adorable?" he snickers.

"Shut up," I grunt. "Where do I put these?" I hold out the clothing in my hands.

"The hamper.” He dismisses me by merely nodding his towards the door behind the couch.

I nod curtly, just a single motion, not wanting to say anything else as I head towards his room. I turn its knob and enter. It’s a pretty simple room really. A bed, a walk-in cabinet and a night stand. The kind of room you wouldn't expect a rich teenager would have. I half expected posters of some modern day bands plastered on the creamy wall, or maybe of super models, or some hi-tech gadgets spluttered everywhere. But no. The room is slick clean it’s almost impossible. I mean, there aren’t even dirty clothes littering the ground.

The window above the black night stand features the bitter whiteness of the outsid, the wafting snow blurring the view. Sighing, I toss my clothes in the nearly empty hamper in the corner and walk out.

I proceed to the kitchenette where a cute glass dining table stands beside the humungous window. In a manner normal people would consider animalistic and impolite but I perfectly fine, I delve in the eggs and bacon generously set on a plate, looking out the whitened outside as I chew. Had Liam finished eating? I cast a curious look at him comfortably sat on the couch. He must've felt my gaze because he turns to my direction and winks at me. I roll my eyes and turn away. Whatever.

After washing the dishes and placing them neatly on the plate rack, I make my way towards the living room, where I take a seat on the very edge of the couch, making sure to be farthest from him as possible as I press my sides against the arm rest. Liam doesn't acknowledge my presence, thank fully. I focus my attention on the large screen.

After awhile, though, the necessity to do something exciting begins to creep through my body. I internally drag the word boring. Boring, boring, boring. Boooring.

Liam’s watching this stupid action movie that features guns accidentally going off and bullets piercing through the skulls of many, many men. Explosions, brief kissing scenes, death. Same old, same old.

I’ve never really been a fan of watching telly. Maybe some important Sports tournament or something, but other than that, watching is boring. You just basically sit and let your eyes roam the pictures and scenes flashing on the screen.

What will I be doing for the whole two weeks that I'm stuck here? Watch the telly? The snow while they fall to the ground? I would go insane and kill myself, I decide. Or maybe, if boredom can kill, I’ll murder this person beside me. Insert exaggerated evil laugh here.

See?

I'm already going insane and it hasn't even been three days (or at least that's what I assume) yet. I let out a low groan of impatience from the back f my throat, hoping Liam doesn't here this. Of course fate is against me.

He looks at me. "You bored?"

"No. I'm stuck here with sexy, exciting you so you could only imagine how thrilled I am," I reply sarcastically.

"Well, normal people would." There’s a smirk in his voice.

"I'm not normal, sorry."

He chuckles, turning the telly off and getting up. Tugs on my arm. I look at him, surprised. Remaining sat and un-budging on the couch.