Tears - S01 E03

Story 2 years ago

Tears - S01 E03

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 3

Stanley had seemed different the first time he bumped into me.

It was on a good day.

The perfect time… I guess?

He seemed in a rush. Well, that’d tell why he crashed into me by mistake.

“I-I’m sorry—” memories of that day came back, as I forgot totally I was still at Sylv’s.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” he said with such gentility.

Gosh! Why so cute?

I got dragged out again, getting aware of my surroundings.

“Arabel, is something wrong?”

I could only ‘hm’ as I hurried out the door like a total weirdo.

“Is she always like this?” Stanley asked Sylvia, watching Arabel hurry out like something was wrong.

He couldn’t understand what he said wrong. He needed to be sure he made no wrong remarks.

“Arabel—Sylvia made to explain—is just…”

Stanley completed. “Shy?”

Sylvia affirmed.

Her plan was to make he and Arabel get to know each other. But the latter wasn’t making it any easy.

“Can we now agree to the fact that you like Vilton?”

Vilton was Stanley’s last name.

Stanley Vilton—

Sylvia saw Stanley as the better man. She wished her friend could see what she saw, and get right to it without wasting time.

“Babe, you know I and Stanley can’t be. He’s way over—” she got cut short.

“Arabel, where are my mom jeans?” Mrs Hawk made towards them. “You haven’t been wearing them, have you?” she questioned with eager eyes.

“Hi, Mrs Hawk.” Sylvia greeted.

“Oh, hi, baby!”

Sylvia lifted herself up, halfway, giving Mrs Hawk her usual cheek slam. “My, you look nice,”

Arabel shook her head, making to say: “Mom, you’re interrupting. Girls’ space?”

Mrs Hawk looked stylishly at her; fingers kept midair. “My mom jeans!” the high-class woman requested.

Arabel could see her mom was in no mood for jokes. She got up reluctantly and made for her room, taking the jeans out of the closet, as she made to walk back to the living room and her eyes caught her phone.

“Let’s see—”

A frown found my face as I read—

The guts!

Another text came in. “It’s urgent.”

I hissed and switched off my phone.

Moving back to the living room, I announced, “Oliver texted,”

All eyes were fixed on me. “No way!”

I threw mom the jeans as she caught it. “That boy’s got guts!”

Sylvia agreed. “Until now… he hasn’t got a brain,”

“At all.”

Mom said to me, “Give me that,” she pointed at my phone. “Give me!” she made to take it as I shifted back.

“Mom!”

“Here, give me.” she succeeded in taking the phone from me, moving back, as I followed.

“Mom, what’ you doing?”

“No one messes with my baby and gets away!” she huffed, switching my phone back on, as she made to type, blocking me from seeing.

“Mum!”

“Baby, I swear, you’re gonna thank me.”

I groaned and let her.

She handed me back my phone, and asked Sylvia to keep an eye on me while she left to get dressed.

Few minutes gone, a knock came on the door. “Babe, please open the door—”

“The nerves!” I sprang to my feet, moving like lightning, as I got the door open, giving him no chance to knock a second time. “What are you doing here?”

“Baby, I can explain—”

I needed no explanation; an a-----e he was.

“You really have some nerves, you know that?”

Sylvia emerged. “So, the loser comes crawling back…”

I smirked.

Oliver was really one. Even heaven knew he was, I smirked a second time.

“Baby, I know I’ve…”

“Zzzzt…” I hushed, feeling pride overpower me. “Gosh, you’re such a jackass, having the guts… trespassing and not caring if I’d call the cops—” I arched my brows, looking at Sylvia. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Such an oaf!”

I bet he felt filthy and filled with shame.

“Baby, I thought I heard someone knock?” Mom arrived, stopping at the sight. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Sylvia and I chuckled. “No one—” we knew what we meant by that. Oliver was a nobody.

“Sylvia darling,” Mom called, stretching her hands. “Get me the kitchen broom.”

Sylvia hurriedly made to get it. She got back in time, and mom took the broom from her.

Asking us to watch while she hit him countless times, we laughed insanely, watching him hurry off.