I swallowed thickly.
Clutching to the rational nerves in my brain, I said the only thing that seemed to fit the situation.
"Do you want to cry some more? I can get water," jutting my thumb over my shoulder.
I did a mental facepalm. The fuck is wrong with you? I clenched my thumb into a fist and brought it down to my side, grinding my teeth as a familiar heat flash upon my face.
I'm getting anxious again. When talking to random strangers, I can hold my tongue better and try to act mature, which wouldn't put my immaturity in the spotlight. But it's different with one on one, very different.
People like Bee and my mother, it's whatever - I'm comfortable if you noticed. It's normal.
But what's not normal - for me - is having my mother let someone, sobbing with personal issues, to live with for the rest of the school year. Let alone the fact I have to deal with her existence; it's rattling my head.
Might I add the little detail of my mother already blackmailing my Coldplay tickets? Fucking bitch.
Internally groaning and moaning, I failed to notice the green-eyed girl sniffling beginning to lessen. Still, tiny whimpers never fail to escape red lips.
Ignoring the faint taste of watermelon lip-balm on my tongue, I scrunch my face while looking up at the ceiling as I slowly and awkwardly sit down in front of her. Nearly tripping on my feet didn't make it easier, thankfully, I managed to regain my balance and plop hard on the floor.
My bum hurt a bit, I ignored it and just shifted; my combat boots squeaking against the marbled floor was the result of doing so. I cringe taking a quick glance at the girl in front of me, silently wishing and sorta wondering why the fact I felt the need to respect her kinda-shiny tears.
Where's Google when you need it? How to help a crying girl.
Her arms are blanketed in her ebony hair's thick strands as her head is snuggling deep in her knees. Periodically, you can notice the shakes - sometimes a randomly violent one - from her crying. Or the deep breaths she seems to try to take control of.
The sounds make my ears prickle, and my heart stutter.
It almost as if she's trying to calm herself down, but it's proving to be quite a struggle since they're mostly short and sharp. As if she's losing her oxygen.
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, often pinching my tongue; pain helps a bit. I don't think she reacted to what I said before if she did - she's good at hiding it.
Her crying and sniffles continue to ripple through my consciousness; at this point, I just figured maybe a hug will do. Might be quite far-fetched since I'm the cause of her state. But I guess it's sweet?
Reducing the imaginary line between her feet and mine, I hesitantly lean over, grabbing her long fingers. I noticed the deep red lines etched on her forearms from her blunt fingernails.
Ouch.
They feel clammy, a little sweaty - not that I cared. I gave her fingers a tug and pulled to drag her out of her fetal position. Her head hung low, quick shakes indicating to not be bothered; black hair turns glossy under the lights.
"Come on," I urged croakily, still nervous from her presence alone. I fail to notice my thumping heart which has gotten worse from her small hands.
After what seems to about ten minutes later, she hesitantly started to move towards me in between my legs. I lead her arms around my neck and she proceeds to bury her face in the crook of my neck whilst awkwardly sitting on her legs. Instantaneously, I am hit the smell of sweet coconut - reminded of earlier's scenario that I try so hard to avoid.
In no more than a second later, her sobs turned into sudden wails, and her hands gripped onto my leather jacket roughly. Still unsure of what to do, I think back to a similar situation and start rubbing her back. Letting her know it's okay.
A sigh nearly passed my lips. A girl gotta cry when a girl gotta cry, I thought; I bit my bottom one hard from producing that remark out loud.
Christ, Bee would've been fucking taking pictures on her goddamn phone as revenge for yesterday. I guess an actual bee in her closet wasn't a good enough prank.
That's what she gets for putting my face in a fuckboy meme and then showering it with love to the whole school - my mother included.
If anyone sees my face they would assume by the amount of uncomfortableness, I'd want to run away. But clearly, that's not an option when she's clawing my jacket, possibly putting tattoos of dents in my skin.
Amid rubbing her back, I failed to noticed the rising of her shirt which has me unconsciously touch her skin. It felt weird, bumpy sort of. I only feel it for a millisecond before she flinches, pushing herself away from me leaning against the door again. She quickly composes herself in any way she could.
All I could focus on at that moment were those green eyes, shining little flecks from her damp tears creates them to be so vivid and bold. I refuse to let them suck me in, but just getting a glimpse could make me so. I blink a few times to clear up my thought progression.
The girl takes off her glasses harshly wiping the stubborn tears that were once pouring from the two green pools. She takes a deep breath, forcing her intake of oxygen to not be so shaky.
Licking my lips to reduce the lack of moisture, I then scratched my cheek out of a nervous habit quickly speaking to remove any tension that a knife could cut.
"You... you okay?" My voice nearly stutters; shuffling my criss-cross apple sauce to drag me a little further away from the girl that makes my skin prickle in anxiety.
I see her nod too quickly for my liking, her head still hung low, hiding her face with her knees inches away from her forehead. Her hands - in the space under her legs - were fiddling with the ends of her black van branded socks.
Now if only something could lift me from the ground and fly me out of here, something zebra-striped - preferably yellow and black maybe. I scrunch my nose at the thought of shouting for Bee; desperate much?
I take a glance at her in front of me, several ideas going through my head - anything to make things easier for the partly, gray-dyed haired girl. Mostly for myself, I thought truthfully. My blue eyes rake the oddly renovated bathroom in the hope of using some glorifying object as an excuse.
Then I saw it. Perfect.
I stood up walking closer to the marbled counter and grabbed one out of the rectangular box. I spoke, holding the wrapped up object in front of her face. I don't know what I was thinking, but then again, I don't.
"Tampon," I question, my tone laden with amusement little did it hide the bubbling laughter threatening to escape my lips. I did what I could to cover it up with a smirk.
The method works wonders for her head shoots up faster than a bullet, her sharp green eyes focusing on the purple wrapped tampon in my hand. Her crying stops in mere seconds and redness flashes across her milky skin, proudly presenting her embarrassment.
I tightly press my lips together to keep myself from laughing. It didn't stop the chuckle though. The girl's eyes shifts from what's in her face to look incredulously at my eyes, at this point, I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep the rude cackles at bay. My body was shaking, and her wide eyes weren't making it more manageable. Even when she finally speaks.
"Wh-what are you - ..." She stitches her brows together, seemingly to finally understand why I pulled it out. I remove my hand from my mouth, and a shit-eating grin sprawls itself across my face at her response. "It's not..." she shifts uncomfortably, straightening out her legs, "currently..."
"It matched the situation," I bit back harshly, I didn't care about my attitude. I never cared whatever the fuck flies out of my mouth to satisfy my dry humor.
She visibly gulps at my blatant choice of words, "I don't need it," she mumbles, bowing her head down to avoid all eye contact from my amusing glare.
"Could've said it earlier," I chortle. I snap my mouth shut the second that passed my lips. I knew that comment should've been direct towards me.
Or both of us - for she whispers, "Or you." It was barely audible, but I caught it. The two corners of my lips went down at her comeback. No one has managed to snide back at me unless it was Bee or my mother.
Normally I would've been pissed off at the idea. Instead, It seems quite endearing someone actually has an inkling of guts to talk back at me. A lot of people don't know, I quite like silly bantering regardless of how stupid it can make you look. I have a strange feeling I will plenty of them with her after that comment.
I take a deep breath, put the tampon in my back pocket, and stretch my hand towards her, "Let's go," I practically order her. I think maybe a change of scenery could make things a little easier. Thankfully I know a few too many; not so sure about bringing Bee.
She lifts her head up again and looks at my hand quizzically, I lift my blonde brows up, indicating to hurry up while shaking my hand a little. She seems to ponder on her thoughts before taking a long dragged sigh and delicately thread her fingers through mine. Nearly choking on the feel of her warm palm, including how well they fit with mine, I grip her tightly and pull her off the floor.
Wasn't smooth as anticipated for she clumsily trips on her feet and slams her body onto mine. Thankfully I held us up with my other hand by gripping the edge of the marbling countertop. A weak shrill went passed her lips as I grunted from the force.
Fuck, "Fuck," I lightly whisper under my breath without realizing I legitimately cursed out loud. I inhale deeply, again without noticing, basking my nose with the coconut fragrance I find hard to ignore. I had my hand - that was once holding hers - securely around her waist to balance us out; her fists are balling up my crumpled white tee. Her green eyes threatening to put my resolve to mush when she lifted her head in confusion, staring at me.
Averting my eyes from hers, I forcefully put much-needed distance between whose body is burning embers through my veins and mine. Scurrying around her and out the bathroom door, I shout - ignoring the hot tingling through my fingers.
"Let's fucking go!"