The Fire In Me (Ryder) (COMPLETED) 1 ✔️

Chapter Fifty-Nine How To Talk To Idiots

Middle of a Memory- Cole Swindell

    I sit on the bed and I lean forward. I gave Dylan his phone already and now I have nothing to do. Literary. Rocco told me to stay in here and not cause any trouble and that's exactly what I'm going to do. For Rocco at least, not for them, and also maybe because I'm tired. I don't really want to deal with them, so I have to stay in here in order to stay away from them so, I don't really have a choice. What was I supposed to do? As much as trouble and I love each other, I need to stay out of it for a little while. With Adam as an exception, of course. Duh.

     But if I'm going to have to lay low with Rocco, I'm going to need to lay low. So trouble and I have to stay away from each other for a while. I don't know how long, and I don't know how long trouble can stay away from me, but we're just going to have to do our best. And that means me staying in this room so I don't go out there and cause arguments or problems that get out of hand. That's not what anyone needs right now. So that's one thing I'm not going to do. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, tilting my head back.

     This is going to be a long day. I don't have anything to do. I don't have a phone. I don't have a tv. I don't have a pencil. I don't have a notebook. I don't have anything! What does Rocco expect me to do? Talk to myself the entire time? That's not how I work, thank you very much. I keep my eyes closed as I start to imagine random things. I imagine myself going outside and sitting on the porch watching people pass by, walking alone or with their animals. It's up to them. Then I imagine myself getting shot and dying.

     Well, I'd say it's time for my imagination to go bye-bye. I shake my head, open my eyes, and look at the ceiling. What time was it? How many days has it been? It feels like I've been in here for hours when it's probably only been a few minutes. When you have nothing to do, time passes so slowly. I hate it so much; time should go by fast when you have nothing to do, not when you're having fun. When you're having fun, it should last longer, like seriously. I don't want my fun time to go by fast unless I'm at school. School has that kind of exception.

     My stomach growls and I freeze before looking down at it. Did you say something? Are you trying to talk to me? Why are you trying to tell me? Are you hungry? Are you in pain? Are my bowels moving? What does that growl mean? I growl while staring at my stomach as if waiting for a response, but nothing comes. Story of my life. It didn't respond to me. Wow, even my stomach doesn't like me. That says a lot. No, what says a lot is how you growled at your stomach, expecting it to growl back.

     I wasn't expecting it to growl back. I just growled because I wanted to. It would have been cool if my stomach had growled back to me. I probably would have made a conversation start up—the conversation between me and my stomach. The good thing is that I can make up whatever I say and my stomach says, so it's a win-win for me. Unless someone walks in and sees/hears. Then it would just be plain awkward. What would you do if you walked in on someone growling at their stomach? You'd be backing up out of there, that's what.

     My stomach growls again, and I glare down at it. "You're a little late," I say, staring down at my mean stomach. It responds about an hour later, like seriously. Why take so long? I'm free now, I could be busy later. I never know what I'm going to do. Most days I just procrastinate, but I'm changing that now. I think. Or am I procrastinating now?

     "Ryder?" A voice says, but I ignore it. I'm getting good at ignoring things now. Not that I haven't been good at ignoring people. I have been. I could never really last long, especially if Dallas was the one I was ignoring. I definitely wouldn't be ignoring him for long. He always makes me talk to him whether I want to or not. That's a good thing sometimes, but it's also a bad thing sometimes. Sometimes I want to talk, but I just don't; other times, I don't want to talk because I just don't want to.