The First Rule

Chapter 9a: The Love of My Life

"Mom! How do I look?"

You delicately pinch the edges of your skirt, lifting it slightly, almost as if you're Margot Robbie living her Barbie life. With an elated twirl, you showcase your white long sundress adorned in a tiny pastel flower pattern. The dress hugged your figure gracefully, radiating a sense of feminine charm.

Mrs. Winters sits on the edge of your bed, smirking, nodding her head in approval. You've been doing a fashion show since three o'clock to your mom—of course, in private. Your dad shouldn't know about this kind of rebellion. Jumping in elation at your mom's thumbs up, you turn to look at the mirror, letting the sight sink in. There you are, in your OOTD a.k.a. Outfit of The Date—

What? Oh yes, everyone—excuse me—everyone! Can I have your attention please? I'm having a date.

I'M HAVING A DATE! FINALLY! EEEK!

Sorry, I'm just too excited. It's just—hard to contain.

So.. yes, I'm finally having a date.. without any interruptions whatsoever—thank. God. Rule #9 is erased! Who's the lucky guy? Well, it's the guy who slipped me that mysterious note, of course.

Done with the dress up, you skip to the window and yank the curtains open in a fit of haste. With the precision of an eagle-eyed detective, you squint at the boy next door. Wearing a navy blue shirt with black jersey jacket, he's caught in the act of fixing his hair with his cherished hair gel, executing sleek moves like he's in a shampoo commercial.

Suddenly, he spots you spying on his sacred hair ritual through his mirror—before he shoots you an evil smirk, dramatically turns, and races to the window—to give you the holy finger.

You respond with a disgusted face, also giving him the middle finger—you know, matching his level of maturity—to promptly slam the curtains closed, scoffing at the whole absurdity.

Oh so he's going on a date too, huh? It's so on.

As you make your grand exit through the front door, he opens his. Halting for a moment, you watch him stand on his porch beside you with loose light blue jeans and a pair of NMD, ready for a showdown. Competitive glares are exchanged, and you smugly spin your head forward, pretending to be absorbed in the scenery while secretly waiting for your date.

Unfortunately, the universe decides to play a cruel joke as a bike stops in front of you. Dread starts seeping through your skin as you realize that it's your date, wearing a pair of Balenciaga sandals junk off, a jogger, and a hot—hot pink tee. When he opens his helmet.. you can see spiky hair formed upon his head. Panic sets in as you realize that 'uncondescending' is not even close to describing this catastrophe.

You instinctively turn to Tyler in a hesitant manner. However, instead of the usual supportive ally, you find him jaw-dropped, suppressing the biggest laugh of his existence. Adding salt to the injury, he shoots out his tongue and gives you a smug expression, elatedly skipping down the stairs to his Ducati.

But that's not all, comparing your date's outfit to yours.. to your beautiful.. pretty sundress.. Realizing how the three-hour fashion show turned into majestic failure..

The amount of shame you withhold is really a sight to behold.

Tyler arrived at Bianca's house, confidently expecting a warm welcome. Especially after all the catastrophe he witnessed back on your—even just thinking about it makes his skin crawl, and he can’t help but let out an amused scoff. Skillfully, he parked his bike in front of her porch. Nonchalantly resting the kickstand, Cavill smoothly opens his helmet, pomade hair still intact.

However.. he witnesses a bewildering transformation in her expression as she descends the porch. The initial joy that lit up her face quickly morphed into a ‘what the heck’ look. Perplexed, he can’t help but wonder what the hell is wrong.

"A.. bike? We're on a date, right?" she exclaims, crossing her arms in front of her chest, clearly unimpressed.

"Bike—this is not—wait—“ Cavill winces, shooting her his narrowed eyes before letting out a nervous laugh, asking, “some.. thing wrong—?"

"I already wore my sundress! Ugh let me change it first—" she huffs, marching back into her house. As Tyler stands there, bewildered, he can't help but experience a sudden flashback to a recent encounter.

'So it's the—damn, bro this is going to be a long night.'

Back home, the two of you comically arrive at the same time. You can't help but notice the dismay in his expression as he observes your transition from the sundress to a simple black tee and jeans. Scratching the back of his head, he hesitantly looks away. A sense of déjà vu washes over him, and it's undoubtedly not a pleasant feeling. Reluctantly, he takes the first step toward the stairs with you trailing beside him.

His feet stop right in front of his door the same time yours stop at your porch. His right hand hovers over the door handle, contemplating whether it's a good time to pry—after today's spectacle, arrogance is not an option. However, after a moment of hesitation, he decides to compose himself with a newfound pride—and turn to you. As if you're already expecting him to do so, you calmly walk to your door before turning your attention to your left—to the guy across from you.

Hands casually pocketed on his jeans, he responds to your challenging stare, "How's your date, pinky boy?"

"Oh, it was fantastic. How bout yours?" you boast with dignified expression, obviously lying with the bottom of your heart.

Raising an eyebrow and offering an undeniably smackable smirk, he strolls towards the railing and leans his hands on them, saying, "I could smell the lie, princess. Especially with what I've just seen. Oh and mine? It was super. She was hot,"

"Oh, really? Why are you home so early then, Your Highness?"

With a scowl on both of your faces, you both look away in unison—only to realize one thing. You hurriedly open your door before slamming them shut. Inside your bedrooms, the both of you slam your backs against your doors and simultaneously exclaim,

"We're so fucked."

Score0 - 0

"AAAA!"

Startled by a familiar scream, Tyler immediately looks around to locate the source. To his amusement, he easily finds you 2 steps under, not far from him. Grabbing your date's collar for your life, you hide your face in his chest. A knowing chuckle escapes Tyler's lips, well aware of your hatred for horror movies, especially watched in cinemas.

Even so, your date still keeps talking about his extensive knowledge of horror films, making you more terrified of him than the ghosts. Well, even the moment you first meet downtown, it became clear that he had a gift for conversing–definitely not in the good way. Dominating the conversation, showcasing his achievements, hobbies—and what he perceived as a superior taste. Horror movies are categorized as superior tastes nowadays? Yeah, right.

Suddenly, a terrifying jump scare appears on the screen, and you can't help but let out a high-pitched scream, ducking behind the arm of your date. But then.. you feel your date's hand on your head—and you freeze in terror.

Not because of the movie this time. But you just f*****g. hate it.

When someone ruffles your hair.

Time seems to slow down as you feel the sensation of his hands above your head—left.. right.. left.. right.. Each movement sends a shiver down your spine as you desperately try to suppress the urge to squirm away. The horror of the situation intensifies as you realize there's no escaping the dreaded hair ruffle, trapped in a terrifying ordeal that's far more terrifying than any jump scare on the screen.

"I diidddn't knoww yoou'ree suuuch a scaaaredddy caaat.."

His voice seems to distort, echoing in slow motion as if time itself has slowed down. With each word, his hand keeps rubbing the edges of your hair. Your face getting redder.. and redder..

"This isn't scaaarrrry, I tooold you allll abouuut those horrrrooor moviiiees I've waaatched befooorree riiight—"

And that's it.

"GOD. DAMMIT!"

Had enough of this egocentric asshole, you forcefully shove him away—shooting him a withering glare! He recoils in his seat, finally intimidated—for once—while you snatch your bag to your right shoulder. Hair already one of a lion's mane, you make your way toward the exit, the click of your wedges echoing in the tense atmosphere.

On your way out, the ghost reappears on the screen along with a loud bang. Tyler notices you jump in surprise, your lion-like hair bouncing as if electrified, but you quickly resume your brisk walk towards the exit. In contrast, Tyler's date leans her head on his chest, seemingly unaffected by the chaos. Tyler himself maintains a smug smirk, enjoying his sweet victory.

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"Come on! It'll be fun—roller coasters, games—I can—I can win a.. bear—unicorn—yeah! You know—that Despicable Me unicorn? I can win it for you!"

Tyler grins behind his matte black helmet, attempting to woo his date with the promise of the amusement park’s magic. It’s been an hour. Still, the girl shakes her head with all her might, folding her hands on her chest.

"Come on, Ty! I'm even willing to go on a date by a motorcycle—”

“For God’s sake this is not just a—”

“I'm not into amusement parks!"

Not wanting to look at the girl again, he rolls his eyes in suppressed annoyance and turns his head. Cavill starts his engine, preparing to take off. However.. as his eyes landed on the entrance, he couldn't help but notice a familiar figure..

You and your date, each with a sugarcane in hand, eagerly head into the amusement park. At the scene, his irritation grows as he deliberately starts his bike not once, but several times, wanting to catch your attention on purpose. You look back, and by the time you notice him behind his helmet, a satisfied smirk painted across your face, then you enter the amusement park with an excited scream,

"Yeaaaah Roller Coaster of Death here we gooo!"

Tyler fumed beneath his helmet, unable to contain his frustration as he shouts,

"YOU—GET OFF!"

Score1 - 1