Because You Said Forever
Part 09
It's a couple afternoons later and I haven't seen Damien in a week. But I'm hooking up with some girl tonight, so I'm happy for the most part. I don't really know who she is, just that I met her on Myspace and she's hot. So I'm getting ready in the bathroom again, fluffing up my hair.
Nick doesn't make any noise when he enters the room, but I know he's there because I can feel his presence. The energy in the room gets heaver. Ignoring him, I put the blow-dryer down and fluff up my hair with my hands, turning my head at different angles.
"Joe, get out of the bathroom," Nick orders, pointing out the door. I roll my eyes and set my blow-dryer by the sink, adjusting the collar on my shirt.
"I'm getting ready." I lean over the sink and look at my reflection closely in the mirror. The energy in the room gets tenser. I hear Nick take in a sharp breath.
"You're always getting ready for a date, Joe," Nick snaps, looking at me with an disappointed look in his eye. I roll my eyes, deciding just now that I look good enough. I feel my face start to get red and I turn to the door, but he's blocking it.
"Move," I seethe, and when he doesn't oblige, I shove him into the counter, hearing the pop when his lower back collides with the ceramic and a yelp escapes his mouth. I glare at him, telling him with my eyes to shut up or get hurt. His face doesn't look scared like it usually does, though. He looks determined.
"You're such a bastard," I hear an unfamiliar, menacing sounding Nick and the next moment, I feel something hot collide with my cheek, followed by a sharp sting. I instantly raise a hand to my cheek, rubbing what I'm pretty sure is now a red spot. In a couple moments, my brain has gotten over the impact of the slap and I glare menacingly at Nick.
"You son of a bitch," I seethe, and I pull my fist back and it connects with Nick's face. When I drop it back to my side, Nick's hands are clasped over his jaw and mouth and there's crimson liquid on his fingers. He slides down the counter, sitting on the floor and whimpering with his hands clasped over his jaw. I rip a washcloth off a hook and chuck it at him to use for the blood. Nick grabs it and presses it under his nose, a tear on his cheek. I send him a final glare and stalk out of the bathroom, having had the last 'word'.
Nick doesn't make any noise when he enters the room, but I know he's there because I can feel his presence. The energy in the room gets heaver. Ignoring him, I put the blow-dryer down and fluff up my hair with my hands, turning my head at different angles.
"Joe, get out of the bathroom," Nick orders, pointing out the door. I roll my eyes and set my blow-dryer by the sink, adjusting the collar on my shirt.
"I'm getting ready." I lean over the sink and look at my reflection closely in the mirror. The energy in the room gets tenser. I hear Nick take in a sharp breath.
"You're always getting ready for a date, Joe," Nick snaps, looking at me with an disappointed look in his eye. I roll my eyes, deciding just now that I look good enough. I feel my face start to get red and I turn to the door, but he's blocking it.
"Move," I seethe, and when he doesn't oblige, I shove him into the counter, hearing the pop when his lower back collides with the ceramic and a yelp escapes his mouth. I glare at him, telling him with my eyes to shut up or get hurt. His face doesn't look scared like it usually does, though. He looks determined.
"You're such a bastard," I hear an unfamiliar, menacing sounding Nick and the next moment, I feel something hot collide with my cheek, followed by a sharp sting. I instantly raise a hand to my cheek, rubbing what I'm pretty sure is now a red spot. In a couple moments, my brain has gotten over the impact of the slap and I glare menacingly at Nick.
"You son of a bitch," I seethe, and I pull my fist back and it connects with Nick's face. When I drop it back to my side, Nick's hands are clasped over his jaw and mouth and there's crimson liquid on his fingers. He slides down the counter, sitting on the floor and whimpering with his hands clasped over his jaw. I rip a washcloth off a hook and chuck it at him to use for the blood. Nick grabs it and presses it under his nose, a tear on his cheek. I send him a final glare and stalk out of the bathroom, having had the last 'word'.