C4 Four

Zoey's POV

"Zoey Summers."

"Mmmhm."

"Zoey, this is the last time I'm telling you to wake up or I'll be the one castrating you."

"You can't castrate a girl." Whoever this person is, he does not have a nice soul. He has been bothering me for god knows how long and now he's threatening to castrate me.

"Zoey, will you just wake up?"

"No."

"I won't lend you my notes."

"Are you Tristan?"

"Yes."

Shit, I need the notes, desperately. I grumble as I try to open my eyes and lift my head off the table. I keep my eyes close as I sit up.

"Is the lesson over?"

"Are you serious, Zoey? It's been 15 minutes since the lesson ended!" Tristan exclaims. My eyes shoot open. I don't know if it's amusement or disbelief on his face.

Woah, it's been that long?

"Woah."

"Yea, woah. Get your ass out of the seat. I'm lending you my notes for a day."

I struggle to stand up. Mind you, I was sleeping very peacefully, getting disrupted isn't very nice. I rub my eyes groggily.

Tristan hands over a file of notes to me.

"Thank you! You're a really nice person."

"Learn to appreciate me."

"I will, I will. Let's get going."

-

Turns out, Tristan actually lives only a few streets away from mine. After we bid our farewell to each other, I trudge home lazily.

The little nap I took wasn't helpful at all, in fact, it made me sleepier.

Just as I was about to insert the key into the keyhole, my door flung open, hitting me straight on the face.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," I gasp, my hand leaving my side to touch the sore area on my nose and forehead.

"Fuck- Zoey!"

I look up to see Chris looking at me worriedly.

"I'm so sorry, Zoey. I'm so damn sorry."

He looks so contrite, my heart is melting. It's not like you'll see the way guilt is written all of his face, everyday. His eyebrows are creased and his jaw is tense. His lips are pressed tightly together into a frown. All the annoyance and disgruntlement from earlier on evaporate from my mind. How can I stay annoyed with this damn pretty face?

I put my hand gently onto his cheek, his stubble grazing against my skin, tickling it, sending jerks of sensation into my body. Chris closes his eyes and lean into my hand, nuzzling it lightly.

"Let's not fight and please, Chris, tell me what is going on," I plead with a soft voice. Partly because I am trying to hold back my whimper of pain.

"We weren't fighting."

"Semantics," I whisper.

He sighs, probably decided to resign to his fate begrudgingly and tell me. "Can we at least get your nose and forehead sorted out first?"

-

"Lie down."

I do exactly so. He lifts the ice pack and carefully positions it on my forehead. I flinch upon the cold contact and the fact that it was actually worsening my headache makes me hate it more.

"Chris, my head is hurting."

"I know."

"No, as in, I'm having a headache."

"Shit." He panics, then looks around the room for a second, before looking back at me. "Hold on to the ice pack. I'll get some painkillers for you." I nod, and he leaves.

Chris comes back with two tablets and a glass of water, which reminds me of our post-argument, me leaving while he is showering, avoiding him in school for the whole day.

"Have you taken the tablets I left on your desk?" I ask as I pop the two pills into my mouth.

Chris' face softens, he regards me tenderly. "Yes, thank you for that."

"It's nothing. Will you answer a few of my questions now?"

"Yes, only if you answer some of mine too."

"Deal."

"What do you want to know?" He observes me warily.

"What happened to Emma and your mother?"

"They're being harassed."

I gasp, caught off guard.

"Who is doing that?"

"I don't know."

"Don't bullshit me."

"You know, sometimes I feel like swearing doesn't suit you."

"What do you mean?"

"It just doesn't. I think your face is too innocent for that."

I push away the urge to blush and grin like a fool. "I know you're trying to change the topic."

"I know you know," Chris sighs, "But in all honesty, I really don't know. I think it has something to do with my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes, that low-life."

I look at him curiously. Do elaborate, Chris.

"What did he do?"

"I think that's a more than a few questions."

"Fine. Some other days, you will tell me more about that, okay?"

"Okay okay. Now, it's my turn."

I start to squirm, feeling self-conscious under his intense stare.

"Why were you acting all cosy and friendly with the Tristan guy?"

"What? I wasn't!"

"You were. You were sleeping on his arm."

"How did you know?"

"I just do. Why were you doing that?"

"You're such a stalker! I was tired and my head was hurting, he convinced me to get some shuteye so that my headache wouldn't intensify."

"Why were you leaning against him?"

"I don't know, I think he pulled me against him so that I would be more comfortable."

"What the fuck? He can't do that!"

The cunning, evil side of my mind twists and a plan forms. I almost let out a laugh. Since he mentioned this, I'm going to grab this chance.

"Why? You're acting like a jealous boyfriend." I try to hide my smile with an annoyed look.

"That's because I am your jealous boyfriend!"

Yes! That's the reaction I want, not what I exactly had in mind, but this is close enough.

"Oh?"

"I thought... I... you..."

He looks so confused and helpless, I can feel my insides soften collectively.

"I don't think you're considered as my boyfriend."

"The hell I am! We went on a date!"

"Uh huh, but there wasn't any sort of questions asked about commitments. You're not my boyfriend."

"But... I..."

This is so fun. I feel so evil.

"You what?"

"Okay," Chris breathes. He seems to have come to a decision. He straightens his body, squares his shoulders and faces me, suddenly, looking determined and resolute.

"Zoey Summers, can you be my girlfriend?"

"I sure can, but will I?"

He looks slightly surprised with my answer but in an instance, his lips quirks up in amusement.

"You sure will."

And without giving me a chance to think of a playful reply, he grabs my face and pulls me to his lips.

"You're my girlfriend now," Chris murmurs against my lips. Our eyes flutter close, asides that, we didn't move much. His warm hands remain on my cheeks, mine resting on his arm. We pull away after a few moments.

"I didn't agree to be your girlfriend!"

"You asked if you will, I answered the question, so now you're mine."

I have nothing to say to that, so I remain quiet.

"But, truthfully speaking, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course."

"That's good. Now Tristan boy can't touch you."

"Tristan is still my friend, alright. What were you doing in my house before you slammed the door into my face?"

Chris frowns, I think he is still upset over the part about my nose and forehead.

"I was planning to wait till you get home to talk to you, but it somehow struck me that it'll be a bad idea to do that. I'll probably look like a stalker."

"Well, I still think that you're stalker. You know how to break into my house, you know what I'm doing in school even though you weren't there. You even know about my liking for chocolates without me telling you."

He grins boyishly, the type that will make you swoon and melt into a hopeless pile of infatuation.

"I have one more question." I don't really want to bring this up, it's like an ugly pain in the ass but I want to know.

"Yes?"

"The text message... why were you so hostile?"

"What text message? I didn't send any messages over the past few days."

I frown, am I hallucinating? I pull out my phone from my pocket and check through my messages. Sure enough, the message is still there, staring back at me.

"There." I hand the phone over to Chris. He skims through the content of the messages and looks at it, genuinely confused yet crossed.

"I didn't send them." He takes out his phone too, and does what I just did. We arrive at the chat messages between us.

"See, I didn't send it, I didn't receive it either."

"But my phone... and I did send it out..." I drawl out. Now I'm confused too.

As the time tick by, all we did was to stare intently, alternating our attention between each other and the screens. We're both thinking, at least that's what I'm doing right now. Definitely, someone has taken Chris' phone, sent that message and deleted them. Who would do that?

"Fuck," Chris suddenly whispers. His voice cold and livid.

"What?"

"I think I know what is going on." His demeanor tenses, I reach forward to wrap my hand around his.

"Who? What?"

He stares at me for a moment, before his lips break into a small smile.

"It's nothing for you, my girlfriend, to worry about."

I decide to drop it, since it's clearer than crystal that he doesn't want me to know. I'll just let it go, for now. I don't want him getting angry again.

I try to lighten up the mood, but couldn't think of any possible way to do so. Just then, Chris turns to me playfully, while holding up his phone.

He exclaims excitedly, "Who is the girlfriend?"

I stare at him for a moment, at a loss of what to do.

Before I knew it, Chris pulls me into his lap, his lips smacking right onto my cheek, I laugh and he clicks his phone to snap a picture.

"You are!"

He's so adorable.

"Who is the lucky boyfriend?" I squeal with equal enthusiasm.

"You are!"

And I launch myself into Chris' arms, knocking him flat onto the bed.