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Damion's P.O.V
I walk slowly, dragging out each step as much as I can. I listen intently to the whispering hum as an ocean plummets from the sky that is dominated with various hues of grey and silver. I sigh and lose myself for a short while, feeling each splash against my skin. The icy wind mixes with the drops to create an almost melancholy mood that most people fall into. I would too, but not today. Preparation. Preparation. Preparation. I can't have her turn up to an unorganised mess; everything has to be perfect.
"Damion," Jason whines, "Can we go inside already? The rain is ruining my hair."
"Hold the bags," I say before passing them all over.
A loud sound erupts and I turn around, pushing down the feelings of annoyance as I see each and every one of the bags on the floor, packets and boxes falling out of them from the impact.
"Oh for fucks sake man, pick them up, they're going to get wet."
"You let go to soon," he complains.
"Quit complaining and get them off the floor"
I pull my keys out of my pocket and fumble with them until I pull out the correct one and open the door.
"Pass them here," I say whilst shrugging off my raincoat and placing it on a coat hook.
Carefully but quickly, I grab the bags and shove them inside.
"What are you boys doing?"
My gaze travels upwards until I meet the frustrated face of my neighbour, Mrs Polly.
"Shopping," I respond and start to carry the bags into the kitchen, placing them onto the counter.
I'm already short on time, I think.
I look up again, only to see she's welcomed herself into my home and is venting to Jason, who looks scared to death. He listens without interrupting until she's just standing there glaring, hands on hips.
"As much as we'd love to hear about how much you hate our guts for the 10th time this week, I must enlighten you that we are actually busy so help yourself out."
I can almost see the steam blowing out of her as she turns a bright shade of red, more likely to be from anger rather than embarrassment.
She spits out a few words in, what I assume to be, her native tongue and heads for the door.
Jason holds up his hands and mutters thank the lord. Took the words right out of my mouth.
The door slams and my nightmare neighbour is finally out of our way. Preparation can begin.
"Are you guys having pot noodles on your date?"
"It's not a date, and no. If I give her pot noodles, she'll never come back"
Jason smirks before speaking again "And you couldn't bear if she left because you're so damn whipped"
"Fuck off," I reply before throwing a packet of noodles at his head.
He cries out in pain and falls to the ground, finishing off the Oscar performance with a scream that quite possible burst my eardrums.
"Jason, you dramatic fucktard," I throw another packet of noodles at him "Get off the fucking floor and help me cook something."
I flip the kitchen light on and start removing the contents of the bags, shaking off any droplets of water. I groan in annoyance as I see Jason curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor.
"I've told you once and I'm only saying it once again, get up off the damn floor. It's dirty."
With that being said, I head up the stairs, two steps at a time and strip out of my drenched clothing.
As I turn around to grab a new shirt, I see Jason standing there.
"Do you have nothing to do but stare at me? Move already"
He doesn't move.
"Wet for her already?" he grins.
"I swear to fucking god Jace, first that lady and now you. Quit pissing me off and let me get dressed in peace."
Today was going to be a long day.
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I lay on the kitchen floor, every cuss word to exist spilling out of my lips.
"I can't cook, I have nothing to wear, why the fuck did I think this was a good idea?"
"Because you're whipped"
Jason wasn't even here anymore. I'd finally lost my mind.
I got off the floor and was heading for the bathroom when phone buzzes
I pull my phone out of my sweatpants' pocket.
'Isabella'
I already feel a smile tugging at my lips.
"I'll be there in an hour"
An hour. An hour. I glanced at the clock and felt panic flooding my veins. Now usually, I'm quite the calm person, but I don't think an hour is long enough for me to get dressed and practice what to say. Can't make a bad impression, right?
"Damion?"
"Y-yeah," I respond, "See you then."
59 minutes.
58 minutes.
OH CRAP.
I raced forward, not bothering to look where I was going, and ended up walking straight into the door. I groan and rub my head, wondering if there's any way this day can go more wrong than it already has.
Okay, breathe, you got this.
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someone's stressed lmaoaoao
YES ITS THE MEETING DAY
okay so the next chapter is going to be in Isabella's POV so yeah
i hope you enjoy
vote and comment <33
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Drug Helpline
Short Story"hello ! this is the drug free helpline, how can I help you?" "i want all the weed you can get me." [ in which a guy calls a helpline, often when drunk ] All Rights Reserved.
