The Boxer and I

Seven

Heeeeeey! How you doin'? (eh, doing a joey here - I'll be there for youuuuuuu)

I'm on a roll with these updates yaaaaaaas.

Please read authors note at the end!

P.S. Check out the song above when you're reading this, I listened to it when I was writing. Happy reading!!

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CHAPTER SEVEN

    Part 1

    I find it so fucking annoying that whenever I cry, even the slightest tear, somehow makes my nose plumbing completely fall apart. Bogeys, endless amounts of watery, gooey bogeys just freely falling from my nostrils. I stare down at the pile of tissues in my lap that are all gross and wet, but that's the least of my worries. I can handle a runny nose, and I can handle crying, but definitely not in front of Jake.

    I shiver in my place on the sofa as I hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen behind me. He's making me tea. I hate tea. But I didn't want to be rude and say no. As I hear him pour the boiled water into a mug, I reach for another tissue out of the packet laying on the coffee table in front of me.

    Pull yourself together, Jesus.

    With that thought, I try to blow my nose as quietly as I can into the soft tissue (but you can't you see, there is no such thing as blowing your nose quietly). His footsteps sound as he makes his way to me and places the mug down before me, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

    Eugh, that's the last thing I want. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me.

    He takes a seat on the seat adjacent to the sofa I'm sat on and I can  feel his eyes watch me as I reach for the tea.

    "Thank you," I try to say, but it comes out a mixture between an otters' squeal and a smokers' cough. My voice box also goes awol when I cry.

    "No need," He replies quietly.

    I take a sip of the brown liquid but instantly regret taking him up on his offer to make it for me. You see when he saw me crying, he freaked out and I'd known this about Jake from years ago - he doesn't know how to handle people when they cry. So, he frantically urged me to sit down and put a pillow in my lap (not sure as to why, I guess he maybe thought it could be a good substitute for a teddy bear?) along with a box of tissues and insisted he made me tea.

    It was cute, mainly because I admired the fact that I've been such a bitch to him and he can put that all aside for now and actually try his best to be kind.

    "I'm sorry that you have to see me like this," I barely whisper as I try not spit the tea out of my mouth.

    I really hate tea.

    He narrows his eyes at me. "Are you seriously apologising?"

    Uh, yeah. Because I ugly cry. "That is what sorry means isn't it?" I reply sarcastically. My voice is kind of muffled because of my now blocked nose. Stupid bogeys.

    There's a tug at his lips. At least he can smile in a situation like this.

    "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks much to my surprise. He's been so inquisitive every time I've bumped into him, why isn't he prying now?

    Maybe it's because you're crying and he's being nice - duh.

    I shake my head in response. I kind of do want to tell him, but my brain right now is screaming no bitch no, not now no. It's not the right time.