(it's not edited, but it's here! sorry for being mia recently, ily all and hope u enjoy the chapter — as always please point out anything that's wrong with it grammar / spelling wise. lots of love)
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THE FORTY—EIGHTH DAY;
» PART [2]
THE BUZZING OF my ringing phone against my bedside table, gently prods me from my accidental nap. It's dull and makes the lamp on the table rattle slightly, only pushing at my annoyance.
To add to my annoyance, I miss the call before I have chance to accept it.
Frowning, I check my lock screen and look at the slew of texts and missed calls I have. "Crap," I mumble, scratching at my scalp tiredly, noticing the amount I've missed. "Absolutely, fuck it."
My eyes are half open as I check the array of notifications, sleep still decorating the corners of them. Alas when the fog clears, I can already tell I'm in for a heap of hell with none other than Theo Holland.
FOUR MISSED CALLS FROM THEO.
NEW TEXT FROM FORREST:
how's the car?
✓ sent at 6:22 p.m.
NEW TEXT FROM THEO:
you're driving a bucket
of crap. i'm surprised
you've not blown yourself
and your shitty Fiat 500 into
a billion pieces.
✓ read at 7:42 p.m.
call me as soon as to discuss
what the hell you want to do
with this shoe box with wheels.
✓ read at 7:42 p.m.
NEW TEXT FROM NERO.
I blanch, scrolling past that message before I can even accidentally read it. My heart patters a little at whatever message he's sent — and not in a good way. With a sagging of my shoulders, I only know it's most probably a bitter message about how Forrest and I are chummy; or about how he's caught wind of Theo coming to my aid. It's definitely not an apology. Since when has Nero ever apologised?
Scoffing, I come off of my messages and slump against my pillows. "Guess I have to call Theo," I mumble, noticing the time is almost half eight. With a wince, I dial Theo's number and press the phone against my ear.
He picks up before the first dial tone has chance to even hit half way.
"Can you remember the last time your car took a trip to a mechanics?" His tone is calm and cool, but I know there's an underlying edge of complete rage in his voice. He's mad, probably that I've not been paying enough attention to how close my car has gotten to indadvertedly murdering me.
I can only mumble "my last M.O.T," with shame, listening as Theo sharply exhales with irritation.
Oh yeah, he's definitely pissed. If the way he's heavily breathing down the phone isn't a big enough hint, when he tells me "Fawn, you're driving a bucket of crap," it's all the confirmation I need.
My fave hardens with annoyance. "Instead of bashing my car, can you just give me the diagnosis?" I grouch, shaking my head as I lie back further into my pillows.
YOU ARE READING
Eighty Days of Heartache
Teen Fiction❝whenever i see you, my heart bursts.❞ ❝and whenever i see you, my heart aches.❞ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ where fawn knox endures eighty days of heartache, ...
