Snapped. (Thomas Jefferson X Reader)

Chapter 8 - Sketchbooks

Thomas' POV

As soon as we walked into Aaron and (Y/N)'s place, the (Y/H/C) girl walked to her room to change, leaving me and my friend alone in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asked, amused at my previous sigh. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nothin'. Why?"

"No reason." He laughed.

"Why are you laughing then?"

"I don't know." I swear my friend's a lunatic!

"Why the fuck is my brother giggling like a girl?" (Y/N) asked, reappearing in the kitchen. She had changed into sweatpants and a v-neck shirt, hair now in a messy bun. I turned to look at her. I subconsciously gave her a quick up-down look and shrugged.

"Beats me."

She looked at me somewhat deadpan. "Wipe your mouth Jefferson."

"What? You think I'm drooling over you?"

"No, you have coffee foam." She walked past me to the cupboard, taking out a pack of cookies. I furrowed my eyebrows and quickly wiped my mouth. Sure enough, there was the tell-tale foam from my coffee.

"Burr!" I looked at a now wheezing Aaron. "You mean to say I walked all the way across town with that?!" He nodded breathlessly.

"So immature." (Y/N) smiled. She set a plate of cookies on the table before disappearing again. I watched after her with a raised eyebrow. Where was she going?

After a matter of minutes, she reappeared with a few notebooks, a huge box of pens and several pencil cases.

"Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw." I muttered.

"Okay, I hate you less because you like Heathers." She said, stepping off the final step.

"Need help?" Aaron asked, sitting down and eating a cookie.

"Nope, I got it. Ow! Pebbles, claws out please." She looked at the cat who had jumped on her shoulder, draping itself around the girl's neck. The animal purred happily while being carried into the kitchen, where (Y/N) set all the stationary down on the table. She opened the box and began picking out various items.

Aaron left the room to do some law studying. We all know he was on the phone to Theo.

"What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck are you doing?" I asked.

"Photography work, my shoot for my next class tomorrow." She shrugged, making the sleepy feline hop down from her shoulders.

"Psh! Yeah right. What's your project then?" I snorted.

"If you must know dipshit, I'm looking at flatlays." She mumbled, digging around for a certain pen.

"You mean that 'typical white girl instagram' stuff?" I was pretty much laughing by now. Her eyes flicked upward to glare at me for a while. She took her eyes off me while she, very precisely, set out the stationary on the table and stood on a chair, phone in hand. I watched in slight amusement as (Y/N) snapped a few photos then tweaked something and repeated the process.

After a while, maybe about ten minutes, she hopped down and put the supplies away, now dragging everything into the centre and pulling her sketchbook from her bag.

"Use what you need." she mumbled, picking up a brush pen and motioning to the stuff on the table. We sat in a peaceful silence.

Until we heard a moan from upstairs.

We both looked at the ceiling, in a mixture of amusement and disgust, then back at each other.

"Sweet Jesus." We cringed, (Y/N) shuddering. The... ahem, noise, didn't stop so I pulled out my phone and put on the first playlist I could find, turning up the volume.

"Thanks." (Y/N) gave me a small smile. It was cute.

The smile.

Not her.

Definitely not her.

We continued our work for a while, listening to the music. I lunged for my phone as soon as 'you can't stop the beat' from Hairspray came on. (Y/N) laughed.

"Leave it." She shrugged. I smiled slightly and returned to my book, listening to the (Y/H/C) girl humming along. I glanced at her book.

"You have... really nice handwriting." I muttered. She used many different fonts throughout her book but right now she was carefully writing in an elegant, curly style.

"Was that a compliment, Jefferson?" She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." I laughed a little.

"Well, thanks. And for the record, you have... nice taste in music."

"Thanks."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Truce?" She asked. "Not friends but, not enemies."

"Truce." I agreed.