Page 5 of Subscriber Wars

I barely muster a smile. “Thanks. I’ll be right behind you.”

When Aspen is gone, I take one final look at my chair. “I will come back for you,” I tell it. “I’ll negotiate with the terrorist. He’ll wish he had never taken you.”

It’s the truth; I feel nothing but pure determination when I march out of the bathroom and back into Sebastian’s bedroom, where I pounce on his bed and snag the pillow I know the diva can’t sleep without.

Yeah, he’s weird and has the sleep habits of an eighty-year-old retiree. I stuff the memory foam under my arm and make my way to Aspen but then I spot his tripod. Since Sebastian lost his cameraman, he’s been filming his videos himself. Yes, they look terrible, but you can’t blame someone for not wanting to work with Bash-hole. He might act like a lazy housecat, but when he has an idea, he’ll film all night until he gets the perfect shot. Just ask his neighbors.

Stuffing his tripod under his bed, between several plastic storage containers, I hurry back to the bathroom and retrieve the note he left for me. I scratch out his shitty comments and write below:

You’re right. I’ll have to come back with my bolt cutters. Sweet dreams, bro.

Vee

Short and simple, just what Sebastian needs in order to understand my message. Having his most prized possession in my hand, I sprint from his room where I find Aspen chest deep in his fridge. “You ready to go?”

She pulls her head out and closes the refrigerator. “I’m ready.”

Her gaze focuses on Sebastian’spreciouspillowunder my arm. “Was that the best you could steal? His pillow?”

I shrug. “I was in a hurry. Besides, I need something to bargain with.”

Her eyes narrow. I’m not sure if she’s suspicious or tired. “And you think he’ll negotiate for a pillow?”

I grin. I know he will.

University CamFlix Competition Submission

Entry Number: 75

Sebastian and Valentina

First Interview Continued, or also known as that fifteen minutes that I didn’t vomit in Sebastian’s lap

“So this war… Who started it?”

I fight a glare at Sebastian and smile sweetly at Tom. “Sebastian did.” I rub the jerk’s knee in faux affection. He’s sitting so close I feel claustrophobic. “At the time, I didn’t know that crashing my video was his subtle way of flirting.” I grin and revel in watching Sebastian’s smile fall into a frown. “It was so immature it was cute.”

I should have known he wouldn’t take that comment without adding a little payback.

“Oh, Tom,” Sebastian interrupts, pulling me to his chest, squeezing my hip in a silent threat. “Don’t let her fool you. Interrupting her video was a public service. No one should have been subjected—Ow!”

I smile at Tom, sliding my hand out of Sebastian’s shirt, where I’m sure I left a mark on his side. “What he means is that my videos haven’t always been about makeup.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Those rippled hills of ab muscles won’t save you, my little friend.”

I watch as the drop of water trails the length of Sebastian’s chest, dripping down to his belly button. “Ah shit, wrong turn. Now, you’ll die a slow death in those stupid yellow shorts of his.”

The drop of water absorbs into the fabric of his waistband and disappears from sight. “Farewell, my friend. Hell might be hard, tanned and smell like sunscreen and moonshine, but its demonic ruler is quite the dickhead.”

I’m over-caffeinated and hangry as I watch the chair thief, through the window, slip a t-shirt over his head and fill a glass of water straight from the tap, pausing long enough to pop what looks to be painkillers. It appears our neighborhood hoebag had a rough night and an even rougher morning, considering he pretty much crawled to the kitchen.

A pot of coffee brews while he leans both hips against the counter, waiting while he smashes his temples between his palms. Poor baby. It’s hard staying pretty when you’re trashed and sleep deprived, but somehow, he manages, which is really a shame.

The last time I was hungover I looked like an actual troll, hissing at Aspen when she offered to wash the dirt and leaves out of my hair before I crawled into bed.

I frown at the window, at his perfectly coifed hair and celebrity housewife complexion. He might look like he’s put together on the outside but underneath those ugly shorts is a mess of a man with the personality of a house cat.

Sebastian’s hand drops slowly from his temple and hovers in the air. He’s staring directly at me when he lowers all his fingers but the middle one.

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