First Dates

four: left for dead

[four]: write a chapter in which a character makes a late night journey to the store to satisfy an unusual craving and meets someone special.

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In the midst of playing Left for Dead, Wyatt's Mom enters the room. Playing games since he had woken up took his mind away from the fact that the date yesterday with a certain girl with more piercings than Wyatt had ever saw on one person, had left a lot to be left desired. Wyatt will continue to say that the dates downfall wasn't entirely his fault, surprisingly.

He's certain that if 'Cynthia' hadn't bragged about certain piercings on her genitals, whilst Wyatt was eating, then he wouldn't have spat his sandwich out on her. If anyone is to blame - it's Cynthia.

"Wyatt," his Mom stops to survey the room, nose curling in disdain at the unmade sheets, dirty clothes leaving a trail which leads to absolutely no where by the looks of it. Whatever she is going to say is put on hold when she takes in the state of his room. "Your friend, um, Alex? Adam? He's downstairs."

"I'll be a minute." He tells her dismissively, not once taking his eyes away from the TV screen. The jumper zombies scare the absolute shit out of him.

"No," she snaps. "You'll go now because Tiffany is getting back in exactly five minutes and I do not want to have to listen to her being a little bitch to your friend again. She made him cry last time."

"Mom," Wyatt sighs, rubbing at his eyes. Then he finally looks at her, and any pleas about giving him the time to get dressed crumble and die on his tongue, and his jaw drops. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

Wyatt blinks repeatedly at his Mom. She smiles wryly at him, the expression reminding him so much of Tiffany when she's ready to get on her high horse like she's the fountain of knowledge. Even though her knowledge starts and stops with shitty American teen reality shows and dramas. Somehow, she seems to think that she knows so much about werewolves because: "Um, hello, I watch Teen Wolf. I know everything."

All Wyatt knows about the matter is that she cried when some girl called Allison or Alexis or something of the sort died. And when Tiffany cries, everyone knows about it.

"I went shopping with Tiff yesterday." Her lips, red, again, part to reveal white teeth as she smiles broadly. She holds up her arms to wave them down her body, "Do you like the new look."

Wyatt blinks once, deciding that his family are out to cut short anytime that could potentially be spent playing the Xbox. "No. You look like . . . Tiffany."

She gives him a dirty look, pouting. "I'll make sure to talk to Connie about your dates and all the kinds of things that you'd just love to do. How does that sound, Wyatt? Fun?"

Wyatt rolls his eyes, "Go away, Mom."

"Just go downstairs and deal with your friend before Tiffany gets back."

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Wyatt isn't too sure himself what his families opinion is of Adam, they tolerate him but they certainly don't like him very much. Adam is standing in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich, and using Tiffany's special 'low fat, no calories butter'.

He almost tells him to do everyone a favour and put it back, but it'd be pointless. Tiffany remembers exactly where she leaves things, and the butter being knocked to the side is enough to have her shouting down the house about her privacy "totes not being respected".

"Bro!" Adam cheers, throwing the knife into the sink after cutting the sandwich into two equal halves. "You took your time, man."

"I had to get dressed." Wyatt bites down on his tongue about the fact that not many people are so chipper at half ten in the morning, let alone dressed and ready for the day. As long as Wyatt is out of his bed by midday, he doesn't even care. Adam looks at his clothes, a dark blue t shirt and light washed jeans.