His Slut Of The Week || Wattys 2016

Confident

The girl staring back at me in the mirror actually looked... pretty. It is unusual for me feel this way about myself. I'm very self-conscious and I hate looking at myself.

Tonight I'm wearing a grey sleeveless crop top and a white lace skirt that went down past my knees with some grey heels. My hair was curled as well as it would and I had a dramatic smoky eye. I felt confident about how I looked.

I looked at the clock and it was one past six. He was one minute late. If my grandmother was here she would instantly hate him because he was a minute late. Me? I just hope he looks really fucking good because if not, it could be awkward.

Who am I kidding, it's Jayce. He always looks good.

The doorbell rings and my heart skips around six beats. I grabbed my white clutch off my vanity and rushed down the stairs, more so stumbled because of the heels until I saw him in the corridor talking to my parents.

He held a proud smile on his face like he isn't scared of anything. Either he has had practice with this or he is just unusually happy.

I tried to sneak down the stairs without being seen so that I could hear what they were talking about, but heels and wood floors don't exactly mix with it comes to stealth.

My parents turned around and Jayce stood there, amazement written across his face. He was wearing a black dress shirt with black skinny jeans and a grey bowtie. Yes, we are going to be like that. Also, he wouldn't let me go to sleep last night until I told him the color of dress I was wearing today.

He can be very persistent and very annoying.

"Oh my god, my baby is all grown up!" my mother squealed from beside my father, tears welling in the bottom of her eyes. My father was rubbing comforting circles on her back while he looked between me and Jayce.

I was expecting him to get mad and tell me that I can't wear this or that I had to be back in an hour, but that isn't what happened.

"Take care of her. Have fun you two," he told Jayce. Then he turned to me and pulled into a hug, kissing the side of my head, "I love you baby girl. And I'll beat his ass if needs be."

I laughed and nodded my head before pulling away.

Jayce was still standing next to the door and when I started walking towards him, the biggest smile spread across his lips. He held out his elbow and I slid my through his.

"Shall we go milady?" he asked with a fake sophisticated tone.

He opened the door for me and I climbed in the passenger seat while he ran across the front of the car to get in the driver's seat.

He put his seatbelt on and started the car. He was clutching the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached over and placed my hands on top of his. He risked a glance at me before looking back at the road and smiling. He moved his hand and laced our fingers together, placing both of our hands on the top on my thigh.

"I'm sorry. I don't really go on dates much so I get nervous," he explained. I nodded my hand and rubbed my thumb over his knuckles.

"That's okay. I don't either. I usually find dating pointless," I say without thinking about it.

He quickly turns to me with a shocked expression. I wave my hand, telling him to look back at the road and he does. "Please tell me that you don't find this pointless because I'm actually really excited about this."

"No no. That isn't what I meant. I used to find dating pointless until now. We haven't even gotten to the restaurant and I'm already having fun. Why don't you go on dates much?" I asked, trying to change the conversation.

"I'm not exactly popular at my school. Girls tend to keep their distance," he says cautiously.

"What do you mean? You're attractive, a good kisser. What else could they want?" I exclaim.

He shrugs his shoulders, "Someone who isn't depressed. Someone who doesn't have anxiety. Someone who wasn't addicted to pain killers for a year. Someone who never tried to commit suicide," he says in a low tone. "Oh my god. I shouldn't have told you all of that."

"Yes you should have," I squeeze his hand, "because now I have proof that you're perfect."

"Wait what?"

"You, Jayce, are perfect for the depressed, anxiety ruined, bipolar me. We are a perfect, fucked up couple. Have you ever had your heart broken?" I instigate.

"More time than I'm willing to admit."

I sigh and lean back in my chair. As scared as I am to admit it, he is perfect. For me at least.