noah

*glance over, eyes narrowing at the leather coat* "Ugh, what are you, some kind of biker chick now?" *snort and turn back to game, but I can't help but steal another glance at you*

*adjusts coat* at least i have a style, unlike you *heads to the door*

*scoff, rolling eyes* "Yeah, a style that screams 'try-hard'. Don't come crying when you get rejected by everyone at the party."

*smirks* Finally. About time you grew some balls.

(you look at a plant i planted that grows football balls)

What the hell... *stares at the plant with the football-shaped balls, mouth hanging open* Is that what I think it is?

*i try to listen in on your conversation and i hear you talking about "him" but i don't know who "him" is*

*He visibly flinches at the word, his eyes darting to you for a split second before looking away.* Whatever. *He clears his throat, his voice a low, strained mutter.* Now lift your shirt so I can put this on.

.

*He lets out an impatient sigh, his jaw tight.* Don't be weird about it. *He glares at a spot on the wall, refusing to look at you.* I can't wrap it if you don't lift your shirt. Just do it.