The Bad Boy of Mine

Chapter 6 ll Well damn. Is this considered haphazard to my mental health?

Zoey's POV

Dreams. 

There are different types of them. First, you have those sweet and adorable ones, where you dream about meeting your prince charming, falling in love, getting married to the love of your life, and having an endless supply of cookies and cream ice cream. Yes, those are kind of dreams you wish that will come true. Then, you have those crazy kind of dreams. You becoming the next teen idol, you being chased around by unicorns and living in the world chocolate. Pretty sweet, huh? Haha just you wait. Next, you have the nightmares. They are the ones which haunt you every night once you drift into the tantalizing world of dreams. The images in the nightmares are usually surreal, yet they leaves you trembling in fear. They either reminds you of what has happened tragically in the past, or they give you a warning of what's likely going to happen in the future. You can't get rid of them. You're stuck with them.

I curl myself into a ball in the corner of my room. My grip on the pillow tighten. A silent scream erupt from the back of my throat. All my fear, sorrow and frustration melt into the scream. I finally break down into sporadic chains of sobs and sniffles. Call me a wimp, but I'm actually terrified of those nightmares which plague me every now and then. They all seem genuine, like, you could literally feel how hurtful it is to have the person you love to leave you.

---

I wake up with a headache and puffy eyes. My eyes are bloodshot and all in all, I look like shit. My hair is all over the place, waiting to be tamed. With my arms tightly wrap around the pillow I have with me last night, I drag my lifeless body into the bathroom, to freshen myself up a little.

And suddenly, my doorbell just rang.

I wasn't expecting any guest so I didn't even bother to change out of my minnie mouse pajamas. I open the door and yes, guess who?

Chris waltz through my door, into my house like it's nobody's business.

"Zoeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy." he holler out as he plop down on the couch. He spare a tiny glance at me.

"What." I cross my arms.

"You look like shit."

"Aww thanks. You're so sweet." That bastard. He doesn't have to spell it out. My day didn't exactly started out well in the first place. I turn away and walk off.

"Hey hey." Chris grabs my forearm gently, stopping me from advancing. "What?" I ask rudely. I definitely do not need another round of tell-me-how-ugly-I-look-right-now. "Is something wrong?" he surprises me with his tender voice and question. Those eyes that stare at me can literally make me fangirl. Not that kind of 'oh my holy shit that's harry styles' fangirl, but that kind of 'OH MY HOLY SHIT HARRY STYLES WINKED AT ME WE'RE GETTING MARRIED' fangirl.

Well damn. Is this considered haphazard to my mental health?

"Meh. Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." Chris looks at me skeptically before shrugging. I definitely do not need him to listen to my life story now. He stalks off with a frown and instantly, I feel guilty. Oh well, I'll deal with him later.

---

"Chris let's gooooooooooo," I drag him by his arm but he just won't budge. It's like I'm dragging a piece of rock. 

"Where to?" he responded with an annoyed look. He continues to stare at the television screen. Gahh just how frustrating he is. 

"Can we please please please please just get out of the house? Please?" 

"I don't see why I should." okay now he is really getting on my nerves.

"And I don't see why you should not." I argued back through gritted teeth.