"Donnor burger."

"Donner burger?"

"That's the new nickname I came up for you. Clever right? As in donnor–"

"I know what you mean and no, it's not clever."

I scoff. "Fine. How does Donald Trump cut it for you?"

His smirk drops. "...You did not just call me that."

"Are you sure, cuz I think I just–" when he gives me a death glare I run out the door. "Did!" Dashing towards the bathroom, he comes after me and a scream escapes my lips when he reaches out to grab the hem of my shirt, I swing the bathroom door open, and run inside, locking it just when he twists the knob.

"What you doing in there, laying eggs?" He taunts.

"Yeah. A bit constipated though." I laugh and then there's silence.

"....you are truly weird..." I hear him say slowly after a while and I laugh.

He takes everything so seriously.

"I'm kidding. Gosh."

"I know...but that was just so weird."

"Hm." I tap my chin even though he can't see me. "Like that time when you and Kaleb were fighting over who shits the biggest?" I smirk.

He scoffs. "Did not."

"I was literally behind you guys, yunno... when you guys decided to leave me as the third wheeler, waddling away not taking any notice of me."

"Not my fault you're short."

I open the door, furrowing my eyebrows. "At least I'm not a gigantic hippopotamus." I sneer, and then a wide smirk spreads across my face.

"You look like a Cheshire cat."

"I'm imagining you with a hippo face." I laugh, which turns into a fit of laughter.

"Ha-ha, good joke. Round of applause." He claps slowly.

I wipe the tears from the corner of my eyes and straighten myself up, clearing my throat.

I look up at him and my eyes trail up to his long locks, that's pushed backwards.

"What?"

"Uhh.." I start twirling my hair, my eyes glued to his hair.

He groans. "Whatever you're thinking about. It's a no."

"Fine I'll ask you later.."

I'm so gonna play with his hair later.

I look down from his hair and meet his hazel eyes, his lips curled in, as he watches me. Smiling I turn around.

"I'm getting the hoodie." I enter his room, looking around and spot his white wardrobe at the far corner of his room. I walk towards it, and pull the handle but it doesn't open. I pull harder and grunt.

Why won't this thing open?

Scrunching my toes against the carpet floor, I grip both the handles and pull with full force.

It jolts open, slamming against the wall, and I lose my grip, and fall on bottom.

"OW!" I hiss, looking at my hand, the side of my pinky scraped from the handle.

I hear a deep chuckle and I look towards the door to see Donald leaning against it, smirking.

I glare at him. "You need to replace that shit you call wardrobe." I grumble.

He raises his brows and walks towards his wardrobe, closing it and opening it with ease.

I scowl glaring harder at him.

"Or maybe you just need muscles." He smirks.

"Show off." I grunt.

He chuckles, shrugging, before making his way to his bed. I stare at him as he flicks his phone out and begins to tap away, already zoned in.

I scoff, getting up and shoving myself into his stupid wardrobe.

I skim through his clothes, my eyes scanning everywhere until I find the black wooly jumper, with silver and gold sleeves. I tug it off the hanger, and tuck it under my arm. I'm about to close it when my eyes land on something.

Some sweatpants with golden lines going down from the sides, along with a Nike logo printed at the top.

I pull it off its hanger, quickly turning my head around and meet Donald's gaze.

I smile. "Found the hoodie." I lift the hoodie up turning around and hiding the sweats behind my back.

He raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly.

I begin to walk backwards, towards the door, still smiling and trying to make myself less suspicious. He rolls his eyes putting his attention back on his phone.

When my hand lands on the doorknob, I twist it and step out, letting out a breath when I safely shut the door.

Walking towards the bathroom. I enter and put on the hoodie, rolling up the sleeves, and do the same with the sweatpants. I turn to the spiral mirror looking at my reflection.

Looking good Layla.

I walk out and into Donald's room flopping on his bed, next to him.

"Hi" I smile innocently.

"Hey..." He greets, still zoned on his phone.

"Sup."

"Nothing much." He mumbles, and I just stare at him waiting for him to actually converse with me, but I get nothing.

"You're so blunt." I mutter, jumping off his bed and jogging towards the door, but stop when he calls my name.

"Yes?" I turn around, smiling.

He raises his brow. "You-"

"What?" I chuckle nervously.

"You're-"

"I'm not!" I blurt.

"Huh?"

"These are mine!" I stammer.

"What?"

"They're mine!"

He furrows his eyebrows, his eye trailing down to my sweatpants and then they widen.

Oh.

"What. The. Actual. Fu-"

"NO!" I yell again, swinging the door open and dashing out.

He gets up and I dash down the stairs and look for a place to hide. I slide down under the table just as he enters the room.

Shit hope he didn't notice. I hold my breath as he walks in.

I hear footsteps getting closer and I start to panic. Suddenly they stop and I have a glimpse of his legs just in front of me.

Okay. I can't take this anymore. I grab his legs and scream, he stumbles back screaming in a deep voice, his voice mixing with mine and he trips, falling on to the ground.

"What the hell!" He yells, and I use the chance and skid off the floor and run out and into his living room.

With God on my side, I see Donald's mother sat on the coach.

I quickly jump onto the couch beside her, breathlessly and she looks at me startled.

"What's going on?" She asks just when Donald barges into the room, he stops when he sees his mother and she raises a brow.

A scowl forming on his features he huffs. "I allowed her to wear my hoodie but now she's stolen my sweatpants. My new ones!"

I scoff. "I didn't steal, I'm just borrowing."

"Still classed as stealing when you didn't ask for my consent." He bites back.

"That's cuz I knew you wouldn't allow me to wear them."

"My sweats my decision."

I furrow my eyebrows, scowling when suddenly an idea pops in my mind.

"Shit. Just realised I'm on my period. What if they get bloody?" I ask innocently my eyes wide, deliberately trying to get on his nerves.

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth but gets cut off by his mother and I fight the urge to smirk.

"Okay that's enough you too. Acting like a God damn old couple. Honestly, Donald. I raised you better then that! You know what I always say, sharing is caring!"

"Yeah." I smirk.

"But-"

"Enough."

"She-"

"Enough."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm wearing leggings underneath." I smile innocently, batting my eyelashes.

My eyes skim over to Donald's mother and when I see she's focused on the telly, I smirk running my hands against the soft fabric of his sweats.

"You fucking-"

"AH! LANGUAGE MISTER!" Mrs Hickman scolds, while I silently laugh.

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