After The BreakUp

Chapter Six

Where is Steph, I'm curious. I attempt to seem serious, but my voice sounds more like a squeak. My hands are clasped on my towel's plush material, and I keep looking down to make sure it is indeed covering my bare body.

The boy glances at me with slightly raised mouth corners but remains silent.

I heard, did you hear?

I continue, this time attempting to be a little more courteous, "I asked you where Steph is.

His visage darkens till he finally mumbles, "I don't know," and switches on the small flat television on Steph's dresser. Why is he even in this room? Has he got a room of his own?

I try to hold my tongue while biting. Does he not have a room of his own? I try to hold back my crude remarks by biting my tongue.

“Okay? Could you please leave or do anything so I can get dressed, please?" He's not even aware that I'm wearing a towel. He might have, but it doesn't seem to impress him.

"It's not like I'm going to look at you, so don't flatter yourself," he scoffs as he turns over, his hands covering his face. I wasn't aware of his heavy English accent at first. Most likely as a result of his rudeness in not speaking to me yesterday.

I huff and move to my dresser since I'm unsure of how to react to his crude statement. It's possible that he wasn't being completely honest when he said, "It's not like I'm going to look." Either that, or he thinks I'm ugly.

I quickly threw on a b*a, underwear, a basic white shirt, and khaki shorts.

He asks, breaking the last of my forbearance, "Are you finished yet?"

"Could you possibly be more impolite? I did nothing to you. What's wrong with you?" I shout much louder than I planned to, but I can tell my remarks were heard by the astonished expression on his face.

He gives me a long, silent look. And as I wait for him to apologize, he starts laughing. If he weren't so disagreeable, his deep laugh would be almost nice to hear.

As he continues, dimples appear on both of his cheeks, and I feel like a complete moron who has no idea what to say or do. I don't typically enjoy conflict, and I don't think this youngster is the kind of guy I should have a fight with.

Steph storms inside as the door opens.

Sorry for being late. She replies dramatically, "I have a hell of a hangover," and her eyes flit between the two of us. I should have let you know that Hardin would be stopping by, "Tess, I'm sorry," She sighs apologetically.

I'd like to think that Steph and I could manage our shared living situation and even form a friendship, but given her social circle and late nights, I'm not so sure any more.

"Your boyfriend is impolite," Before I can stop them, the words begin to flow.

Steph turns to face the young man. Then they both started laughing. Why do people keep laughing at me? It's starting to annoy me a lot.

She nearly chokes on her spit as she exclaims, "Hardin Scott is not my lover." She gathers herself and turns to look at Hardin with a snarl. What did you tell her, exactly? Then, turning to face me, she said, "Hardin has a... a peculiar manner of communicating."

Lovely, so her main argument is that Hardin is fundamentally a bad person. The young Englishman shrugs and uses the remote to switch stations.

She suggests that Tessa join them at the party tonight.

I'll probably start laughing now because I'm not really into parties. I also need to go get some things for my desk and walls. I turn to look at Hardin, who is obviously acting as if we are both absent.