The Heartbroken - S01 E22

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E22

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 22

continues

He laughed as well and

sank into the couch. Our

laughter dissipated and

we let a comfortable

silence fall between us.

“You live alone?” he

asked.

My smile faded,

remembering my Mom,

and I answered, “I

might as well.”

The look on his face

actually seemed curious.

Almost skeptical. “Huh,”

he said, as if dismissing

it, but I knew he was

probably trying to figure

out what I meant.

“You can go ahead and…

not be stupid while I do

my homework.”

He was quiet for a

moment and I watched

him in silence. His sandy

brown hair was wet

and messy from the

shower, his expression

almost hesitant. And

not that I would

actually ever tell him,

but Cedric’s shirt

actually did look better

on him than it did on

“that idiot,” as Seth

freely called Cedric.

“Evans,” he suddenly

said.

I blinked away from my

thoughts and refocused

on him. “What now?” I

snapped.

“What’s for dinner?”

My mouth dropped

open. You have got to

be kidding me.

—

There were three

things I learned about

Seth that night. A) Even

drunk, he can still flirt/

make fun of me/try to

kiss me/act annoyingly.

Also, B) he was still a

good kisser. And as our

refrigerator and the

spotless plates in front

of us would prove, C) he

could eat a whole cow

and still eat be hungry.

Not that he actually ate

a whole cow tonight,

but still.

“Remind me, why am I

helping you in the first

place?” I asked him.

I wasn’t completely

sure if it was possible

to be so drunk one

second and be a little

sober after two hours.

Alcohol doesn’t usually

work that way, right?

Seth should have been

drunk much longer, but I

guess when you drink

almost every night, you

get a higher tolerance or

something. Whatever. I

just don’t fully know

why I was actually

letting him stay here

when I could easily kick

him out and be done

with it.

“Because I’m

awesome?” he replied,

taking another spoonful

of spaghetti. It was, I

believe, his fourth plate.

And yes, I do think that

he’s still hungry.

“Sure. Whatever makes

you sleep at night,” I

said.

It was a little past nine

already, and Seth being

here for two hours is

already making me

cranky and irritated.

“Well, now that I think

about it, why are you

helping me?” he seemed

to have registered the

question only now. I

guess he’s still not

completely sober,

despite the fact that he

was starting to revert

back to his usual cocky

self.

I shrugged.

He tilted his head

slightly to the right, his

blue eyes focusing on

mine, as he said, “Well, I

think you’re helping me

because despite the

fact that you say you

hate me, you actually

don’t. Or you might be

feeling a distinctive

feeling of not hate. As

we socialized around

each other, you’ve

become familiar with

me and you’ve realized

that I’m not so bad,

unpleasant, or horrid

after all, and therefore,

you’ve begun to grow

an imminent liking for

me, throwing aside your

skepticisms and doubts

as to where our

relationship could

possibly end up.”

“Did you just use the

SAT vocabulary words

in one sentence?” I

asked him, thrown off.

I narrowed my eyes

suspiciously at him.

He grinned, looking

genuinely happy. But not

that I’m-the-happiest-

guy-alive kind of happy,

but the Yes!-She-

actually-fell-for-it kind.

“What?” I asked him.