When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E13

Story 2 years ago

When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E13

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 13

“You just did. But no, I’m actually sitting on my bed

with my MacBook, lying on my stomach while

scrolling on Facebook. By the way, do you have

one?” He admitted.

“No, I do not have a Face-a-book. Why would an

Italian female co-owner of a thre star pizza place add

a random blabbering idiot on this, uh, Face-a-book?”

I even winced at my terrible accent.

“I am not blabbering! Lose the accent; it’s hard to

understand what you’re saying,” Jonah snorted.

“It is hard to lose an accent after having it for 15

years. That is like asking you to drop eating pizza;

you’re so used to it,” I grimaced at my worsening

accent.

“You’re 15?” he inquired.

“16 and 9 months, I don’t know about you but I

didn’t pop out of the womb screaming ‘pizza’ in a

thick Italian accent,” I dropped the accent. My mother

was staring at me with an eyebrow raised and my

brother just shook his head before walking away,

followed by my mother.

“That’s a really nice image,” he laughed and I rolled

my eyes, turning on my MacBook. There’s

something we have in common; we both have

MacBooks. That’s probably one of the only things we

have in common.

“I would love to think so,” I responded.

“So do you?” He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows at

his question.

“Do I what?” I asked.

“Have a Face-a-book?” I rolled my eyes.

“Why would I add you? I barely know you; you

could be a stalker. Oh wait, you are,” I told him.

“I’m a bit scared of you, actually,” he admitted.

“And why is that?” I smirked.

“I’ve seen you make a guy bleed with one punch on

the second day of knowing you; well, technically the

first,” he shivered.

“Well, have you made any friends?” For some

reason, I didn’t want to end this conversation. It’s

been a while since I talked on the phone. Aside from

the odd conversation with Mere or my mother, it’s

been quite a while.

“I’d like to say two, but knowing you, you’d say

‘one.’ So, yes, I made one friend,” he responded.

“Who?” I asked him, logging into my Facebook. I

typed in his name in the search bar. Okay, he did his

share of stalking. Can’t I do mine?

“Some girl named Lindsay, or at least she gave me

her number. She told me to text her,” he explained

and I let out a quiet ‘Ahh’ sound.

“That’s Lindsay for you, jumping on anything fresh

and male,” I replied with a snort. “What are you

doing sitting on the phone with me? Call her.”

I was scrolling through his pictures, feeling super

creepy. I looked back to make sure my door was

closed. “No thank you. I thought she seemed a bit…

easy, but now that you’ve said it, my thoughts are

confirmed.”

“I speak the truth and nothing but the truth,” I

replied, clicking on the ‘Profile Pictures’ box. “Jonah,

where’d you move from?”

“California. Why do you ask?” he was amused; did

he know what I was doing?

“No reason, just curious. Why’d you move?” I

asked. It just occurred to me that I could seem

pushy. His parents could’ve died or something and

here I am, pushing into his personal life like a

bulldozer, or a human train. Someone say Jeffrey

Shaw?

“My parents travel so much that my aunt and uncle

decided to take us in. It wasn’t much of a change

seeing as I’m with my cousins and sisters, but I

don’t have any of my friends here.” I felt a tinge of

guilt for being so mean to him, but I wasn’t going to

apologize. Odds are I’m going to do it again if he

stays around me.