Collide ↠ Asher Adams

two

As soon as I hung up the phone. I had an eerie feeling that something was wrong. Sure Spencer normally calls me but never in the middle of the night. Against all my better judgement I heavily sighed and got up off the floor. Which by the way was not very comfortable, in fact I can still feel my throbbing headache.

Standing up slightly dizzy, I brushed off my pajamas which consisted of an oversized Captain America t-shirt with a pair of black shorts. Looking down at my outfit I pondered whether or not I wanted to waste my energy to change my clothes. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if I showed up in this would it?

Sighing to myself I quickly threw on one of Jason's old track hoodies and a pair of blue jeans as I laced up my worn out pair of black converse. I shot a longing look at my bed wishing that I was back under my warm sheets fast asleep and dreaming of Peter Parker's beautiful face. I'll be back for you.

With that I made my way out of my room, closing the door behind me.

Now here comes the actual hard part. Sneaking out. You see tonight is one of the days that mom doesn't have to work the night shift so I'm not too worried about her, I know she's more than likely fast asleep. Who I am worried about though just so happens to be the person in the room right next to mine. My brother.

See one of two things could happen at this moment.

Outcome number one is that Jason is passed out in his bed snoring so obnoxiously loud that the neighbors have to cover their ears.

Or there's outcome number two, where any subtle movement I make jolts him out of his dream about Bella Swan choosing him over the ever so sparkly Edward Cullen and he catches me in the act. Yeah that's right, Jason's a Twilight fan, a Twihard if you will. But don't ever tell him I said that. I mean personally I prefer Rosalie over Bella but you know, to each their own.

I'd prefer the first one because the last thing I need is Jason catching me and telling mom. Lord knows I'd be grounded until I turned eighteen.

I slowly peeked my head through Jason's door to see him spread like a starfish on his bed with his head lazily hanging off to the side. His mouth was even slightly open. I think if I look close enough I can probably see the drool. Gross.

Shaking my head trying to hold back my vomit, I slowly close his door that has posters of random bands and a big "Do Not Enter" sign in the middle. Oops.

In an attempt to be as quiet as possible I tiptoe down the hallway to the front of the house. As I make my way to the door I pry it open as quiet as humanly possible.