Bad Meets Good

A Size 6

“What are you doing?” His deep voice booms from behind me.

I feel my whole body become rigid as the words leave his mouth and I’m stuck in my spot. I don’t think I can just turn towards him with his notebook placed between my hands. Besides, I’m scared to see his reaction. Just by judging from his voice, he sounds beyond angry and there is a hint of embarrassment laced somewhere into there, if I’m not mistaken.

I bit my lip nervously while placing his journal back into his drawer before turning around and facing him as he makes his way over towards me before he stops, his height drastically towering over mine. He’s probably an arm’s distance away from me and it feels like I’m about to suffocate any second just from his presence alone. His squared shoulders undeniably make him look even more intimidating, which makes me want to coward backwards.

“Nothing, I was just um….,” I say unevenly while shifting back and forth on my feet, purposely not making any eye contact with him. My right hand reaches behind my standing figure and grazes against the smooth furnished countertop of his dresser until my finger touches the slenderness of the pen. I slide it off the surface and hold it vertical between my thumb and pointing finger. “I was looking for a pen.” I say, while twirling the pen in my right hand.

 “Oh, really?” he asks, while titling his head merely to the side. The words have a sardonic air to them once they leave his mouth and a wave of guilt flows throughout me.

He takes a step towards me, increasing the proximity between our two bodies. “Well…yeah.” I say, with a slight shrug of my shoulders.

As I wait for him to say something, it suddenly started to get too hot in the room: as if someone struck a match beneath us, having the heat arise higher and higher, until it could distribute no more inside of this enclosed area. It was starting to get stuffy and I greatly wish for a window to be opened right now to.

A frustrated sigh leaves his parted lips. “Did you find it?”

I meet his gaze and I wish I hadn’t the moment I do so. His raging yellow-green eyes are intensely sharpened towards me. His jaw is clenched to an extremity that I’m sure that if he was to bite down any harder, his teeth might start grinding together, creating a friction. I glance down at the ground and exhale.

He fist collides with the wall adjacent to my standing figure and his chest is heaving up and down erratically. “Fucking answer me!”

My body cringes at the almost deafening noise he creates with just one action. I tell him everything. From how I was buying stuff online and decided on writing down the confirmation code till me having to look for a pen. I mention how I couldn’t find the writing utensil in the other three drawers and when I finally do, seconds later, I find his journal underneath all of his mess of miscellaneous items.

I’ve witnessed him being enraged before but never over something so simplistic: a journal. It’s til the point where he won’t even let me get a single word in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, London! I leave you inside of my room for not even five minutes and you’re already prying into my shit and you expect me to believe that you were just looking for a fucking pen?” he says, heatedly through clenched teeth.

Crossing my arms under my chest, I roll my eyes, clearly annoyed and he catches glimpse of me doing so. The menacing look he sends my way would make me shut my mouth any other time but not right now. “Can you just—”

“Can I what, London? Can I fucking what!”

I look over at him in a loss of words while running one of my hands through my hair frustratingly, tugging at my roots. What’s happening right now is beyond pathetic and I’m getting greatly pissed off as the seconds pass. He wants me to explain but then he cuts me off every single time.