I Checked Out the Badboy's Boxers

(fan cover by bouquinerie)

Don't I always get myself into simply the best of the best kinds of situations?

Thought so.

If you think your life is shitty right now, please come and walk in my footsteps. Just not these shoes, you can have an old pair, because if you think you're taking my favorite vans then I would clearly think again.

The cold air of the night swirls around me and shivers electrocute up my spine and forearms. All the while I'm still dangling my feet in the water. Back and forth, a random simple pattern.

See, I like patterns. Patterns are organized. Patterns are efficient. Patterns are also predictable and easy.

Unfortunately for me, my life doesn't incorporate itself into a nice little pattern, and unfortunately for you, this isn't going to be predicable.

Who even are you anyways? Because currently, getting stalked on the Internet by seventy year old men is not at the top of my to do list. My apologies to all of you seventy year old men. I hope you live a good life and eat good food. Mic drop.

Anyways, as you can probably tell, I'm currently debating how good of an idea it would be to simply run away or something like that.

It would be a hell of a lot easier but unfortunately life isn't easy.

What the frack, I sound like a fracking mom.

What was Parker trying to say? He couldn't mean..

I blush, the red tint a faint glow on my illuminated cheeks from the dully lit moon.

In fact the only thing making this situation bearable at the moment is the fact that Mason isn't here.

I know that's a bad thing to think, but honestly. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you actually like him, you can have him. For free. Actually, I will pay you to take him.

Slowly I rise to my feet, letting the drops of water silently cascade down my calves and onto the dock. I glance at the pontoon, and run my fingers over the white material. The material he was leaning on what feels like only moments ago.

I sigh and keep walking. Everything's confusing. Life really is a big fucked up mess.

With every step the cabin grows closer and the nervousness multiplying itself in the pit of my stomach grows bigger.

I'd previously thought we were friends, but everything's weird now. Why is that? Why can't the idea of weirdness just disappear off the face of the earth or something? Damn, I'm weird.

I reach out and grip the faded gold colored handle and turn, opening the door. As quiet as I can, and while holding my breath I might add, I close the door. Releasing the breath I relax, shaking out the tenseness. I pad over to the stairs and climb up the best I can, using the wall and railings to grip since it's practically black in here.

Maybe, along with a cranious rectosis, Mason could invest in some night lights.

At the top of the stairs I peer into the connected bedroom I share with Elle. Thankfully she's sound asleep.

I feel bad not telling her, but what am I supposed to say? Your brother may have told me that I hoed around with him for a few hours while I was completely intoxicated? And that I kissed him?

Big no no.

I yawn and walk past the door to the small bathroom. I push open the door and finger brush the tangles out of my hair. With one hand I'm pulling off my  top, and with the other I flip the switch to bring light into the room. I toss the top to the ground and kick the door closed with my foot.