#unless the new roommate (presuming the landlord finds one) is worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate the way you drive my car

So, we’re ignoring the fact that it’s 4 am but here I am with the second part of 10 things I hate about you. Ignore typos, I’ll fix them at some point (maybe ?).

Also, this might be a little bit of, like, soft smut???? Unsure, but hey, stuff happens. I don’t know if this actually counts.

NOTE: the line about being ‘a pop-up book from hell’ I’m pretty sure that line is from Gilmore Girls that I used in here (I changed it a bit but still gotta give credit)

I hope you like it!

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

__________________________

“Because we both know that’s not true.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

----------

“I need to ask you a huge favor,” you hear him say on the other end of the call as you’re pacing around your apartment out of boredom.

You groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him asking you for something at ten am on a Saturday. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” he whines on the other end.

“But I know you and know that it’s probably not something I’m going to like if you have to call and ask me.”

“Can you at least hear what I need before you make a decision?” Matthew huffs, clearly a little bothered by the fact that you were dismissing him before giving him a chance.

You can’t help but laugh imagining the pout he has on his face, the one he would be giving you in person that always, without fail, made you say yes to whatever he was asking of you. But you weren’t in person, so instead of conceding, you tease him with, “Hard maybe, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not!” he whines again. You can hear him mumbling to himself about what other options he could think that he had, knowing that he had none as it was if you were the one he was calling.

“Why do you need my car? Where’s yours?”

“We need alcohol and all the boys are busy. And my car is in the shop, the brakes were being a bitch. I didn’t want them to crap out on me when I need to make a sudden stop or something.”

“Yeah, because we both know you’re good at stopping even with good brakes,” you tease.

You hear him laugh on the other end, so strong and genuine that hearing him made you stop and smile for a moment. “What can I say, I pull out all the stops. And yet, I can never use them to get you in bed.” He closes his eyes, thankful that you couldn’t see him regretting saying something that stupid to you. If he kept up this shit with you, you would have a list of way more than ten things that you hated about him. “But, please, can I borrow your car?” You stop for a moment to think, really not wanting to hand over your keys to him. “Your silence means no?”

“You live two blocks from a liquor store. Are you fucking joking?” you let out.

“I never joke about fucking, especially with you,” he says, forcing you to roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He really did mean it, no matter how oblivious you were to that fact. “But that one doesn’t have what we want and the nearest one that has our shit is too far to walk to.”

“I do not trust you to drive my car,” you tell him, hearing the line go dead. You pull the phone away from your ear to see that he was trying to switch to Facetime, probably to wear you down with his stupid pout that always made you say yes. “There is no way I am letting you drive my car.”

“Y/N, I am begging. I will do anything.” He juts out his lip, batting his eyes at you in hopes of convincing you.

“I’ll drive you there.”

“I feel like I’m two seconds from death every time I get in a car with you behind the wheel.”

“Order an Uber.”

“But you’re cheaper!”

Your jaw drops as you can’t help but scoff at what he just said. He can’t really think that saying something like that to you would work. He didn’t mean it like that, just that it was easier to buy you a bottle of wine than pay for the Uber there, back and the tip. But he wasn’t thinking about that enough to fully explain. You study the background behind him, clearly walking into a familiar building, not quite able to make out why you knew the building based on the angle he held the camera. “Wait, where are you?”

“Bye!” he says, hanging up on you immediately without you being able to get an answer.

“Evie!” you yell, clearly frustrated with Matthew’s antics. You wait to hear her open her door, praying that she was awake. “Evelina!” you screech again.

You hear her door open and slam shut, her bare feet hitting the tile of the floor in the hallway as she makes her way to you, “If you go any higher, only dogs will hear you. Why are you waking me up?”

“I have another thing to add to the list.”

She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as her eyes followed to the ceiling. “You know how to write. The list is literally on the fridge. This is not something you needed me for.”

“Well, Miss ‘They have to be legitimate reasons,’” you mock her voice, “I had to make sure it was a real reason by your standards.”

“What else could you hate about Matthew?”

“I hate when he drives my car.”

“When the fuck does he do that?”

“When I asked her if I could get alcohol from the store on the other side of the city,” you hear Matthew’s voice behind you, causing both of you to jump.

“Jesus, you’re like the pop-up book from Hell. How the fuck did you get in here? The door was locked!”

“Evelina gave me a key,” he says, waving his key ring in the air as if you could tell which one he was referring to in the mess of keys.

You turn back to Evelina, your mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Everything about your expression said, ‘what the hell?’ without verbally saying it. She shrugs, obviously still groggy from being woken up by your screaming. “He’s here all the time and you always happen to be busy when he’s knocking at the door. It was the third key our landlord gave us, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say. Of all the people she could give the spare key to Matthew of all people.

“So why do you hate when I drive your car?” Matthew cuts the silence out.

“Well if it’s anything like the way you skate, then I don’t think I want to see it.”

“I said I would do anything!” he whines, Evelina groans, leaving the two of you to head to the kitchen, presumably to write the new thing on the list.

“And what does that entail?”

“I would prefer something in the bedroom,” he flirts, earning another eye roll from you.

“How about you start by getting my bag from my bedroom and then we’ll go,” you say, waving him off and practically running to the kitchen to find Evelina. “Matthew doesn’t know about the list, right?”

Evelina looks at you, hesitating to answer. Something tells her that him knowing the entire plan wouldn’t bode well with you. “Did you tell him about it?”

“No.”

“Then, no,” she lies. “And the car thing doesn’t count. You’ve never had him drive your car before. Plus, why would him knowing be a bad thing?”

“Because you know him. He’s just gonna flirt with me and try to make me forget that I hate him. You know I’m a sucker for a sweet guy.”

She looks at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Ok, I’m going to list all the reasons why you’re wrong, and then I’m going back to bed because I don’t want to deal with you anymore.” You roll your eyes at her, something you had already done a lot today, yet still feel the need to keep doing. “So, one. I really do not know him that well, all I know is that he’s clearly in love with you. Plus, I’m closer with Elias, remember? Two. You clearly do not know what flirting is because you two flirt with each other all the time. Every day. Every minute. It’s annoying. Three. You have a very specific type, and sweet isn’t always a given. I know you have dated three guys, and all three of them were hockey players who always got in fights, had curly hair, really nice eyes, and are always someone pest-like. Does that sound like anyone?”

“None of that is true.”

“All of that is true,” she counters, leading to the two of you going back and forth, bickering about the validity of her three point list.

“Hey, is this it?” Matthew interrupts the two of you, holding up your bag.

“Yes, let’s go,” you say, taking the bag from him and pushing him out the door. “You head down and start up my car, the keys are by the door, Evelina just needs to finish the list first.” You swear you see his eyes go wide and look at your roommate before he darts out the front door. You could have meant the list of alcohol she wanted. Evelina wouldn’t lie to you about him knowing about the hate list. “You’re wrong,” you tell Evelina.

She throws her hands in the air, walking back to her room, “Don’t bother me unless you finally realize you love him or you can actually add ‘the way he drives my car’ to your list.”

“I hate you,” you call to her in a sing-songy voice.

“Love you, too,” you hear her reply, closing her door.

You go down to your car, hearing it before seeing it in your spot since Matthew had already turned the volume on your radio up louder than you ever wanted it to go. Your hand reaches for the volume button before you even put the seatbelt on, muting the music to tell him, “There is absolutely no way you’re listening to the music this loud. How can you hear yourself think?”

“I’m honestly surprised you even believe I think. But did Ev give you her list?”

“No, she left it on the fridge,” you say, without thinking.

“The fridge?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him about the list. You hated more things about him than you liked, so why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that? And why was it so hard to come up with things to put on there. “It was the grocery list, she’s buying the stuff after her nap and needed to know what I wanted for food,” you lie, hoping he would buy it.

“Is whipped cream on the list?” he asks, pulling out of the garage. The smirk on his face tells you that you shouldn’t ask to elaborate whatever thought was running through his mind, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “So you can spray it all over me and lick it off.”

“You’d have to clean up my vomit right after,” you joke, hearing his laugh again. “Who’s to say that I wouldn’t want you licking it off me, instead?” you flirt back, knowing it would get something out of him.

Hearing you say that makes him stop breathing for a moment, letting his mind wander to the image of that scene. His entire body tenses up thinking about it, only to be snapped out by you yelling, “Brake, brake, Matthew, brake!” He slams on the brakes of your car, narrowly avoiding rear ending the person in front of you. “This is why your brakes are crapping out!” you squeal, eyes wide with fury at his nonattention to the road in front of him. “I’m driving home, you are not allowed to drive my car back.”

“Calm down, are you dead?”

“I just died a little on the inside.”

The smirk from before returns to his face, “We both know you die a little every time we go to work, I’m just helping move that along.” Still at the red light, he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, the smirk turning into a soft smile.

You can’t help but bite part of your bottom lip, the rest of your lips forming a smile. His eyes flick between yours and your lips, knowing that he wanted to kiss you. You tear your eyes away to look at the road, fully aware of his eyes still on you, “Green light.”

The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence. Was that some sort of moment between the two of you? If he hadn’t been driving, would he have kissed you? And would you have let him?

No, you wouldn’t kiss your best friend. Nothing would make you want to kiss him. You take out your phone, pulling up your conversation with Evelina. ‘Add the way he drives my car to the list. Or the way he drives in general. I don’t care.’ You sigh, hesitating before hitting send.

“You ok?” you hear Matthew say, hitting send before you can decide not to as you pull into the parking lot of the liquor store.

“Oh, yeah. My boss is just asking me some stuff about one of my projects at work,” you lie to him. Evelina responds, just with an eye roll emoji.

“Alright,” Matthew says, leading you into the liquor store, “Get something for you and something for Evelina and I’ll pay for it.”

You just nod, both of you giving an awkward smile to the other as you went your separate ways in the store. Evelina needed another bottle of her favorite wine, but you had no idea what you wanted. You eventually find yourself looking at a bottle of wine with Snoop Dogg on the label, of all people. “What’s that?” Matthew startles you, causing you to almost drop the bottle right on the ground.

“This wine brand called 19 Crimes,” you say, showing him the bottle, “Snoop Dogg is a partner in the company.”

“19 Crimes? Is that how many we’re going to commit in the bedroom our first time,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You smile and roll your eyes at him. “It’s a reference to British and Australian history, Matthew,” you tell him, admittedly leaning in a little to his touch.

“Ok?”

“So starting in the 1780s or 90s, Britain, instead of killing their convicts, would send them to Australia as punishment. If you committed one of 19 Crimes, you would be sent there, starting a colony of criminals and eventually turning into the down under we know and love today.”

“What are the 19 crimes?” He asks, leading you through the store.

“The first is grand larceny, or theft above the value of one shilling.”

His hand moves from your waist into your back pocket, your breath hitching slightly at his touch. “Keep going,” he whispers into your air, still leading you around the store.

“The second: petty larceny, which is theft under one shilling.” You feel his fingers start to tense up in your pocket, sending a shiver down your spine as his touch became more intimate. Without waiting, you keep going, “The third was buying or receiving stolen goods.”

He pulls you closer to him, tightening the grip he has on you as he starts to grab bottles from the shelves with his free hand and put them into the cart he was pushing. “What’s the fourth?”

“Stealing, buying, or receiving lead, iron or copper.”

“Seems weird,” he notes.

“The fifth will really get you: impersonating an Egyptian.”

He laughs a low laugh, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Weirdly specific, but keep telling me more.” You could be telling him anything right now, and he would probably be going just as crazy as he was now. Keeping you slightly in front of him, he was glad he couldn’t see how red in the face he was getting from the history you were telling him.

“Six would be stealing from furnished lodgings, so anything stamped with the London County Council seal would send you to Australia. Seven was setting fire to underwood, which is undergrowth in a forest.” You were doing everything in your power to restrain yourself, your hand taking his from your back pocket and moving it back around to the front of you. His fingers find their way into your front pocket, settling on your hip bone as his thumb hooks onto your belt loop.

“Eight,” you keep going before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze on you as you try to ignore the tightening grip, “is stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money, which is robbing the post office of mail. The ninth was assaulting with an intent to rob.”

You realize Matthew had led you to the back corner of the store, secluded from the other customers. Behind the stake of boxes and the shelves of bottles that surrounded you, no one could see you. Everything he was doing, you would have the same reaction to any boy, you tell yourself. It’s not because it’s Matthew, it’s because he’s just a guy.

“Number ten?” he whispers in your ear, turning you so that you face him.

“Number ten is stealing fish from a pond or river,” you let out, his hands on your waist as he pulls you close to him. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, almost in sync with yours as you keep going. “Similarly, 11 was stealing or destroying roots, trees or plants.”

“Eight more,” he says, kissing your forehead.

Your eyes flutter closed, knowing that looking at him would only make this worse for you. “Because of the divorce laws that were in place, number 12 was common: bigamy, the act of marriage while already in another marriage.” He places another kiss on your forehead, his hands on the small of your back to pull him even closer to you, allowing you to feel everything he felt.

“13 was assaulting, cutting or burning clothing. 14: counterfeiting the copper coin.” His kisses start to trail down the side of your face, tracing your jaw bone as you continue, “Clandestine, or secret marriage was 15.”

“I love that you know this. Four more,” you hear him say, kissing your collar bone as you try to stifle the moan that escaped from your lips anyway, praying that no one saw you two doing this.

Your eyes still closed, you continue, “Stealing a shroud out of a grave was 16. 17: watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned.”

You let out another involuntary groan before he pulls away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his forehead is once again pressed on yours. You open your eyes to see his blue ones staring straight into your soul. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he whispered, “I think it’s pronounced ‘Tems,’ babe.”

A grin on your face, knowing he was right, “Where I’m from, we say it phonetically.” His eyes flicked between yours and your lips, just like they did in your car earlier. “18 was incorrigible rogues, people who had already been convicted as a rogue or vagabond and resists arrest, who broke out of prison and person reprieved from capital punishment.”

“What’s the last one?” he whispers again, his lips nearly ghosting yours.

“The nineteenth and final crime that would get a British convict sent to Australia was embeuling naval stores, or stealing naval supplies, in certain cases.”

His lips hovering against yours, not quite touching but close enough to be begging to connect. “In certain cases, would you want this?”

You knew what he was referring to. Did he actually want this? You were trying to convince yourself that he didn’t, but it was hard to believe that. “Matthew. We...” you hesitate, denying that fact that you wanted to. It wasn’t because it was Matthew, you would be this way with any boy. “We can’t.”

He exhales, pulling away from you. “Ok,” he says, a weak smile. He takes your hand, pushing the cart with the other towards the front of the store. You drop his hand, reaching for your phone to text Evelina.

‘I hate the way he teases me,’ you send her, not wanting to give her any more context. Ignoring the vibration that meant she was responding to you, you watch Matthew as he checks out the copious amount of alcohol that he had gotten for the guys. He bites his bottom lip as he pays, his chest now steadily moving up and down as his breath had calmed down from before.

‘This list has to work for me,’ he thinks to himself. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. He couldn’t let you think of ten things. He didn’t even know how close you were to being done.

The two of you get back into your car, the haul almost completely filling up your trunk. You hadn’t said a word to each other, but you did need to know how Matthew had planned on getting everything back to his place.

With Matthew in the driver's seat, you feel like you need to apologize. As much as you hate to admit it, you were definitely feeling something because of Matthew. Was it because it was specifically Matthew? No, no, it was just... you didn’t know. Something. But, did that just change anything between you?

“Hey, Y/N?” Matthew snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you know all that?”

“We talked about the English colonization of Australia very briefly when I was in high school, but we never went in depth with it. Then I saw this video of a news report in Australia where a woman had submitted a comment saying that if they didn’t like having all the criminals in their country, they should just find another island to send them to. The news casters were laughing so hard saying that that was how Australia was pretty much founded. So I looked into what it took for Britain to send their convicts to Australia. I guess I liked it so much that I just memorized the list? I don’t know, it’s dumb,” you discount yourself. “Sometimes I feel like people forget that I’m actually a little intelligent.”

“I think you’re more than a little intelligent; you’re the smartest person I know.” He turns onto his street, you finally realizing that he had driven to his place to make it easier to bring everything up. “I love y-” he starts, realizing he can’t say what he wants to, “I love that you know so much.”

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, getting out of the car to help him carry everything up to his place. You do so in silence, needing two trips to your car to get his haul into his apartment. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, once it’s all in. After that, he couldn’t stay in the same room as you, knowing that he would want to do so much more than what had happened in the store.

“Yeah, see ya,” you say, going out the door. You shut it behind you, leaning your back against it. You close your eyes, head touching the cold wood. You needed to finish that list as fast as possible. Seven more things before it was complete. “Fuck.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagines

393 notes · View notes