"Hey, could you do something for me?" He suddenly asks keenly, sitting up and placing his elbows on his knees. He is no longer wearing the angry look. The one he has on now is one of hopeful interest and fascination. "What is it?" I respond, wondering what he wants. My body heats up at a certain thought. I am being all giddy within. Does he want to ask for sex? Idiot. No one asks for sex directly. They just seduce—kiss, grab, go down orally, and then--
Gosh! I am still as dirty minded as ever, and it does not seem to get better. Maybe it will once I satisfy my sexual curiosities.
"Could you redesign my room for me please?" That is so not
what I was expecting.
"Wait—you mean like... change this room?" I crease my forehead. If that is really what he is saying, it is not...
He nods twice. "I've always wanted to myself. But I don't know much about room fitting and designing. I also don't have a favorite color. But you are pretty good at those."
"I don't think so. How would you know?"
"Well I liked the way your former room was." He says.
"Have you been in my room?"
I don't remember letting him there. Freddy has never come into my room. He drops me off and waits a few more seconds to watch me go inside before he drives off. Then I would curse myself and regret not having the lady balls confidence in me to invite him in despite wanting to. This has been a repeating circle for us. He has never stepped foot in my house except for that one time when Barbara went over herself. Shit! Did she let him into my bedroom too that time?
"Your mom showed me the first time I came by your house."
"Oh, God." I facepalm. I am embarrassed. Fucking Barbara! How smitten is she with this guy? She might as well just date him herself. My room is untidy. Not unkempt untidy. But unorganized for a girl's. I have lazy periods and days when I feel like working. I do cleaning and chores for like once a week or sometimes nill. When I come home from school I throw my things all over the place. I thank my lucky stars everytime for my dishwasher, vacuum cleaner and laundry machine. Else I would have been forced to have more chore times.
"Hey don't be like that. It wasn't bad looking. If it was, I wouldn't be here asking you to... do this place for me."
"No." I refused flatly.
"What no?"
"I can't design your room. Do it yourself. Or find those in-house decor team. There are many of them on the internet. You are rich enough to order those services." And I don't want to get in trouble with your mother. I silently added the last sentence.
"s it because of my mother? Are you scared of getting in her bad books?"
"Yeah. You are right. I can't deny that that's not a reason as well." I admit.
"Okay. I am dropping it only for now. I really want your designing touch in this place. Don't pay attention to my mom. Just pay attention to me and what I want."
Pay attention to you and what you want? That was one hell of a line sentence. He stands up and begins to unbutton his shirt. My throat drys up when he peels it off completely. Baring his clean muscles to my eyes. I kept my eyes peeled unable to look away. Not that I would if I could. "I am sorry. It's a habit I have picked up because of my flatmates. Staying in a shared space with the same gender does that to you." I see a tiny shade of pink in his cheeks. He is shy. I could not stop the smile that crept on my face. "Look at you being all blushy like you haven't gotten naked in front of a girl before." I tease.
"If I was shy, I wouldn't have started taking off my shirt in the place."
"Fair point."
I am taking in the sight of his body. It is clean and not tattooed like a certain person I know. Wait—God, I should not be thinking of that person right now. I just found out today who he is. He is off limits from now on. Which is cool. No problem though. I have got this good-looking guy with thin eyebrows, black eyes, short black hair and a tasty looking muscular frame that I want to feel my hands pressed on. But I am not feeling it like I should. My stupid brain cannot help but compare him to some rude and snappy guy. "I am going to take a shower. I'II be right back." I watch Freddy's back as he padded into the bathroom. Soon I hear the raining sounds of water. Lightbulb. A silly idea creeps into my mind. But I am too tired from sleep deprivation to act on it. I yawn sleepily and turn the lights off and lie back on the bed. I plug in my earpieces and played my sleep aid playlist. Starting of with my number one—Lana Del Ray's Summertime Sadness.
"Look at her! She is the trending slut!" A person said maliciously. I am surrounded. Cameras were clicking. Phones were up. I am deeply confused as to why that is.
"It is not me!" I denied strongly.
"Deny it all you can skank! But the evidence is there and it doesn't disappear."
"She is so shameless!"
"Let's teach her what happens to whores!"
There is a whole crowd of students ahead of me. Each and every one of them looking like the said demons of hell despite their normal and familiar human faces. Faces of people that I know included. They keep stepping forward, eating the distance between me and them. Their countenance anything but pleasant. My legs became so heavy to move much more carry me away from them. I was rooted to the spot. I helplessly stand there, feeling all kinds of terrified and yelling at them to not come close. They did anyway. And not only them. There was a crowd behind me too. My heart gallops like a racing horse in my chest, and I suck a ragged breath into my lungs. All I can hear is the swooshing of blood in my ears and my heart palpitating. I I'm in a trance, a rabbit caught in a trap.
Sweat clings to my palms like a second skin, and worry, fear and very other unpleasant feelings ignites in my gut. I scream hysterically as one puts his hands on my blouse and tugs at it.
"Leave me alone!"
"Get your hands off me!!"
"Leave me alone!!!"
"Holy Mary. What was that about?" Exclaimed a woman's voice. Huh? I not in the atrium at school. I am alone. In Freddy's room, on the bed. Sweating and panting like a lamb that managed to escape being slaughtered by the big bad wolf. Standing in my eye line is a woman wearing pastel pink pajamas. She is staring strangely at me. It takes a few blank seconds before I remember that she is Freddy's mother. She gets in the bed besides me and place my head on her chest. Patting my head and repeatedly saying it's all just a nightmare. I hold her tightly. Holding onto the good reality that had been a nightmare andI'm in a trance, a rabbit caught in a trap. not real. I still feel like I am back there in that scary, helpless nightmare. I was starting to get comfortable in Freddy's mothers soft hug when the door opens revealing Freddy. His eyes widens. He then pulls me away from her and into his embrace. He then asks her what the hell she is doing in his room. "Take care of her first. Can't you see she is not okay?" She equally fires at her son. "How are you feeling?"
"I am fine." I croak out.
"Look at all that sweat. You must be dehydrated. I'll go get you something to drink." She was out of the room before I could tell her that I didn't need it. She came back later with another woman who held a tray containing a glass of milk, water and orange juice. "I don't know what you like so I had her bring all the options." She explains the superficiality
"Thank you." I say, taking large sips from the water and placing it back down on the tray."
"Babe, are you sure you don't need to go to a hospital?" Freddy asked, holding my hand and feeling my temperature. I give him a "Are you serious?" look. He has been all about that since he came in and saw me after my nightmare. He had been out jogging which explains why he wasn't there on the bed when I woke up. His mother is still present in the room and silently watching us with stiff expressions. I feel so awkward. "You are overreacting. It was just a nightmare. I am not sick." I try to take my hand out from his but could not as he held it firmly with no intention of letting go.
"Okay then, how about we both skip school today and go out. You definitely need a cheer up." He suggested.
"No. I don't feel like skipping school today." I refuse.
"Please babe. Pretty, pretty please. . . . .?" God, he is making me feel more awkward! His mother has her lips curved up in a controlled smile that is almost like me when I watch rom-coms.