When I heard the heater turn on, I knew Fletcher was home. I'd been in the bath about half an hour, and I felt great. I felt like I could face him now without yelling at him, so I slowly and carefully got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around myself before pulling the plug to let the water drain.
I dried off and walked to my closet. I put on clean underwear and didn't bother with a bra, since it was usually uncomfortable sleeping in one, so instead, I put on a black singlet and a white sweatshirt with 'More Issues Than Vogue' written on it. It was very big, and hung over my butt. But, it was cold, so I put on plain black leggings; comfy but presentable.
I gathered up enough courage, after sitting on my bed and pacing my room for half an hour, I heard him out in the lounge room and kitchen moving around, so I opened my door and walked out, not looking back.
When I came out of the hallway, I saw him standing in the kitchen, a pizza box sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, which had two of the softest blankets I own, and my favourite 'chick flick' movie on the main menu flashing on the TV; The Notebook. It's classed as an 'old classic' now, but I didn't care. It was still one of my all time favourite movies. I tried not to smile at the sight of everything. He heard me as I walked out, and his head snapped up to look at me.
"Oh good, you're out. I was getting worried. The pizza's going cold" he says nervously and walks to the couch, sitting down and putting a blanket on himself. I follow suit, turning the light off on the way, and take the other blanket. He pressed play on the film and I reached out to open the box. He watched me cautiously, and when I opened the box, I turned to him.
"Why are you watching me?" I asked, leaving the top of the box open. He nervously chuckled and nodded to the box. Confused, I look at it, and on the inside of the lid there was a message, written in Fletcher's scrawny handwriting, which hadn't improved from school, apparently.
'I'm sorry' it said in big letters. A small smile found its way onto my face and I looked at him.
"You're forgiven" I roll my eyes and hand him a slice of pizza.
"Good. I don't think I could handle living with you, knowing you're pissed at me" he chucked and ate it. He opened his mouth to say more but I shushed him when the movie started.
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I wrote this ages ago, and reading through it again made my heart melt *insert heart-eyed emoji here*
Fletcher makes me swoon even though I created him
YOU ARE READING
Lost Love
Teen FictionSeven years on from senior year, the 'gang' is still in New York City together. All, except Fletcher. He and the boys have spoken every now and then, but not once has he spoken to Sammy. Which is what she wanted, right? Well, it's what she thought...
