Five: MTOABB

MTOABB

My eyes still flutter with sleep, when Chloe decides to enter my room with a wet towel.

How annoying is it that she does this on random mornings when I decide to linger in bed for a few minutes longer?

"Wake up before I decide I'm going to leave you at home," she says, throwing the wet towel on my face as she stands there naked and dripping wet from her shower.

"You're always doing this," I groan as I throw the towel back at her so that she can cover up.

"Mom hasn't seen your belly button ring, has she?" She asks me.

"No. Why'd you bring that up?" I ask with a grumpy face.

Knowing mom, she'll think it was an act of wanting attention - in my defence I'm barely in a swimsuit or in tops that show off my midsection -- so no, I'm not looking for attention mom!

"No reason." She smiles. "Get ready in ten minutes and meet me in the kitchen or I leave without you," she says walking towards the door. "You decide."

Finally being in my own space and having to put all my thoughts together-- I jump into the shower.

The weekend went by very fast - nothing new there. Finished all my homework, minus the Literature assignment, hence Gomes would be handling that. He made sure to not invite me over. Who was there that I need not see?

My Type Of A Bad Boy

I jump into Chloe's car with no idea of what situation my hair is in.

"What is going on with your hair?" Chloe asks, and I groan.

I tried my best to tie it like Chloe's -- but instead of a "put-together" bun, I ended up with a flat patty for a bun.

Chloe laughs as she parks the car and turns off the ignition.

"Let me," she says, already placing me in position. She runs her hands thoroughly throughout my hair strands until it looks decent enough to style. She tries tying it up, but my hair does not cooperate hence the high ponytail that I have now.

I walk straight to my locker to retrieve my books for the first and second period.

"Hi," I say, spotting Cassandra a few feet away from me.

She turns around and gives me a smile that I can only assume is genuine.

"Hi Rossita," she says as she slows her pace so I can join her walking tempo.

"What class do you have now?" I ask.

"History."

"Oh really, me too," I squeal, and she stares at me as if I've grown a second head. I didn't mean to get excited, but it would be nice to make a friend around here.

We both enter the classroom together and take seats right next to each other.

"So why History?" I ask curiously.

"It's what I want to major in college," she says with enthusiasm.

As for me, History is just a subject that is boosting my credit score and it was not going to take me anywhere.

"So why'd you and Gomes move here?" I ask abruptly when silence seemed to have kicked in.

"You keep calling him Gomes, his name is Prinse," she says, glancing at me for a second.

"Prinse," I say, allowing myself to test the sound of his name on my very own tongue.

There is so much that I don't know about this boy.

What could possibly be his favourite colour? -- maybe blue, but that's me just being stereotypical.

"And to answer your question, all sorts of stuff happened there, we needed a change of scenery, I guess." She shrugs.

"So why was he so secretive on Friday when I showed up?" I ask, my detective side kicking in.

The teacher decides then to enter the classroom, resulting in Cassandra giving her full cooperation to what is occurring in the front of the class. As for me, I seize to exist as she disregards me for the rest of the period.

The bell finally rings, and it feels like it was long overdue. "He had visitors," she says and I have to recollect myself in order to comprehend why she was telling me that.

I nod in understanding, not really knowing what other reaction to give.

"Prinse needs a safe ground right now, and you're exactly the type he'll use - so stay away for your sake - you're not exactly his type to date," she says, with a smile that I no longer take as genuine but rather unsettling.

My type -- that is what it has always been about.

Never had a boyfriend because I'm yet to find my type according to everyone's knowledge.

It's aggravating when the world seems to think they know you better than you know yourself.

My Type Of A Bad Boy

"Hey Rose," he says as he hugs me from behind and I need to take a second to realise that ZACK is hugging me from behind.

I keep my composure as I say, "Rose today, Blondie tomorrow. What's next?" I say with a small smile trying to creep through.

"Bae in an hour," he smirks as he shows my cheek some love.

I don't want to jump the gun, but calling me bae should mean something, right?

"Your bae?" I ask for clarification, sincerely for my peace of mind.

"Date me," he says nonchalantly as if he just said it's sunny today.

I stay quiet as I let his words sink in. I hope I'm not blushing too much or showing that I'm beyond excited -- because I am.

"You want me to be your girlfriend?" I ask.

"Girlfriend? I didn't say anything about a girlfriend," he says.

"You're such a jerk," I say, feeling like a total loser.

"Let's go somewhere on Saturday and we'll see after if we'll call this a girlfriend situation," he smiles and I give in.

"But I won't have sex with you, Zack," I say, resulting in a short heave.

"I didn't ask for sex, at least not yet." He winks and I shake my head.

It wouldn't be Zack if he didn't say something so preposterous that it has you double thinking. A fluttering sensation creeps into my stomach as my mind makes sense of what this really means.

Just the thought of me alone with him gives me goosebumps.