Tangled With My Roommate

Chapter-9: Couch Potatoes

|| Arabella ||

"Stop hitting me, you crazy girl!" Theo shouted as I kept beating him with a cushion.

"No," I dragged out the word, not willing to back down at all.

Protecting his face with his forearms, he clamored, "At least get off me."

"Never." I was sitting on his chest. My knees were on his either side, locking him in a mount position. Tonight I was determined to teach him a lesson.

"You are heavy!"

"And you are evil!"

Theo managed to push away the pillow from my hand, so I started pummelling him with my fist.

"What the fuck is going on?" I stopped hitting Theo and looked over my shoulder at a frustrated Wyatt who was seconds away from turning red from anger. "What are you guys, five?"

"He fed me toothpaste cookies and this shitty juice," I complained like a little child, pointing at the content on the coffee table.

"She is stupid enough to fall for it. Not my fault," Theo defended himself.

Wyatt pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm himself. "First of all, Ara, welcome to my club. I have eaten these biscuits at least seven times in my life, all credits go to Theo." I almost wanted to laugh at his misery, but knowing I was as miserable as he was, I swallowed back my laughter. "So a piece of advice for you: never ever eat any biscuits from an opened packet in this house, sis. It's probably filled with toothpaste or glue."

Eww. Glue. Please tell me Wyatt has never actually eaten any of it.

"And for you, Theo, I think I told you to throw these shitty biscuits away," Wyatt scolded like a fed-up mother.

"Since when do I listen to you?" Theo muttered, and I shot him a glare.

"Since I have my SAT exams in three weeks," Wyatt retorted.

My eyes widened. "Oh, my God, I didn't know about that. I'm so sorry to disturb you," I quickly said. It was no wonder that Wyatt was always studying in his room or stayed in the library after school.

Wyatt sighed. "It's okay, Ara. But please, you guys, don't create a racket. I need to concentrate on my studies."

I lowered my head and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Theo?" Wyatt arched an eyebrow, expecting a response from him.

"Yeah, fine. Sorry," Theo grumbled. "But would you please tell Annabelle to get off me? I'm being crushed here." He pointed at me still sitting on him.

I flicked him in the forehead one last time, making him let out an 'oww' before standing up.

"You better be grateful you don't have your long hair anymore," Theo muttered begrudgingly and sat up.

I raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Why? Would you pull at it like a kindergartener?"

"Yeah, since you have taken all the responsibility for being mature. For example, hitting me with a cushion," he snorted, "Very mature."

"You see, what a bad influence you are? Your immaturity has rubbed off on me," I said, lacing my tone with pity.

"What's the age of being immature then? When I am forty years old with a wife and kids? Or when I am an old man with wobbling feet?" he asked.

I was slightly caught off-guard at his question—a tiny bit impressed if I was honest—but I frowned nonetheless. "That's no excuse to annoy people like this."