The Killing Moon

I didn’t make it through the Dexter Finale, my eyes were heavy about halfway through and sure enough I was snoozing. The next morning, I woke up snuggled closely with a pillow in Landon’s twin sized bed. I squeezed my eyes a few times to adjust to the morning light and then turned over to look around the room. Landon was nowhere to be seen, which made me wonder if he’d slept in a different room.
I crawled out of the bed and adjusted my jeans which had left a button imprint below my navel, my shirt was twisted all crazy and I felt like I was hungover, even though I’d never experienced that feeling before. I opened the door slowly and walked into the hallway, his mother’s door was closed which was good sign she’d come home. I peeked into the living room, expecting to find him on the couch – but it was vacant. “Landon?” I whisper/yelled since I didn’t want to wake anyone else up.
“In here.” Landon called from the office that was at the end of the hall, I walked down and nudged the door open, looking at him sitting in front of a computer seriously engulfed in a game of Left for Dead.
“Thanks for waking me up” I accused as I took a seat on the futon in the corner that he’d obviously slept on.
“Sorry, you looked exhausted yesterday. I wanted you to get some rest.” He paused his game and turned to look at me, his face was long and sad.
“What is it?” I leaned up, suddenly concerned.
“My mom got home about an hour ago, it’s seven a.m.” His head was shaking in disbelief; I could tell he felt as though his suspicions had been confirmed.
“Maybe she was with her girlfriends?” I suggested, hoping to help.
“She doesn’t have girlfriends, Sel. No one likes her.”
“Don’t be so judgey, you don’t know what’s going on. You need solid evidence before making such a drastic confirmation.” I tried a different approach, maybe he needed to look at it from a realistically analytical point of view.
He only shrugged.
“You should get home, your mom called me this morning since you didn’t answer. I told her you were asleep, but she seemed worried.”
“Okay…”I could tell he wanted me to leave, especially since my mom was already at work. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, of course.” He said as he stood up to meet me in the middle of the room. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, it was weird seeing him so fragile. He was normally a smart ass with little regard for what was going on with his family, but he seemed almost broken right now. I hugged him back tightly, taking in that familiar scent of the Irish Spring soap he had used ever since we met.
I didn’t want to let go, but I knew he needed space. He walked me to the garage door and told me goodbye once more before closing the door. I grabbed my bike and began wheeling it towards the driveway, noticing the garage door was still up and his mother’s car was only halfway in. My eyes were drawn to the empty vodka bottle that sat on the passenger seat for everyone to see. Maybe it was worse than I’d wanted to admit.
I was almost at the end of the driveway when the black car from next door came flying down the street. I had to jump back on to the grass for fear that he was going to hit me. He squealed into his driveway and quickly slammed his brake to park. I watched as he got out of the car and stretched his arms high above his head, pulling the tight black t-shirt he was wearing up to reveal a tattoo covered mid-drift.
I must have been obvious, because he turned to look at me with a shit eating grin. “Not your boyfriend, huh?” He looked at me while leaning on his elbows against the roof of his car.
I shook my head, where had he even been? He hadn’t lived here long enough to have friends, had he?
I didn’t answer him, I just mounted my bike and began riding for my house, he apparently had other plans though. I came to a halt as his fists closed around the handlebars of my bike, making my body lung forward.
“What the hell?” I asked, putting my feet on the ground to prevent me from falling over.
“It’s not polite to ignore people.” He tilted his head as if to get a better look at me.
He looked even more handsome up close, even if he did reek of marijuana and stale beer. I huffed as I looked up at him, wishing I would have snagged some gum before leaving the house.
“Can you ignore someone that doesn’t exist to you though?” I retorted.
A lopsided grin formed on his lips and he straightened his posture while letting a small laugh escape.
“I don’t exist to you? That’s a bit rash, isn’t it?” His long arms crossed below his chest.
“You haven’t before, why change it now?” I shrugged, also crossing my arms in reply to him.
“Cheeky, you must be one of those angry girls. You know the type, listens to Bikini Kill while enamored in Sylvia Plath…. or a lesbian, since you have sleepovers with your not boyfriend of course. Probably don’t even shave your arm pits…” He reached his hand out to lift my arm, but I quickly jerked away from him.
My cheeks were hot; he was an absolute dick. I furrowed my brows and shook my head at him, “Well you’re just positively charming, you’ve helped me see the light. How can I ever thank you for such a mind opening speech which has inspired to me change my ways to fit your liking oh almighty man in front of me?” My voice must have raised about two octaves as I spoke, getting louder with each word.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could get a word out.
“Here’s an idea for you, mate, Fuck off.” I made sure to put extra emphasis as I mocked his accent.
He put his hands up in defeat and took a few steps backwards before shooting me another grin and turning to walk to his house.
I waited until I was far enough from his house to let out a loud obnoxious groan, he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not an “angry” girl and so what if I am a lesbian? I’m not, but still… how fucking chauvinistic can you be? Furthermore, Sylvia Plath is incredibly talented and her works are gold, how dare he imply she be anything less and a staple for broody females AND Bikini Kill is a great band. He doesn’t know me.
Not at all, I’m more of a fan of Emily Dickinson and The Cranberries if I’m being perfectly honest.
Who are you trying to convince, exactly? The voice in my head had a point, I shouldn’t have been so bothered by this – yet I’d ridden the entire way home lost in an internal rant. I parked my bike under the car port and made my way inside.
A nice hot shower would help me relax and take my mind off of the awful morning I’d had…hopefully.

**

Notes

Short update.
Busy life, ugh.

Check out The Get Down on Netflix if you haven't already, it's awesome.

I'm not getting much traffic on this so I may take it down, I may take down all my stuff idek - I feel like I'm kinda lost in a sea of fanfictions and I don't rly know if this site is just inactive again or if I'm just not writing what you guys want, but the lack of feedback is highly discouraging.