Love Is A Dirty Word

I threw my raggedy cell phone onto my bed and flopped down beside it.

“Monday, I can’t go to Europe!” Chace said from the speakerphone.

“Oh c’mon, you’re a friggin movie star. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.” I pointed out, exasperated.

“Not if I don’t want to get fired. I’ll come and visit you though!” he said. Dickling fucking bitch. I pressed the “call end” button forcefully, but that’s the thing about cell phones. You can’t just slam it back into a receiver to really bring the message home, you can only push that little red button and hope the other person implodes.

“What’s the weather like in Belgium?” Sequoia wandered into my bedroom asking.

“Uhm…probably ice-ballz cold,” I guessed, decking my phone at the wall.

“Oh boy. What happened?” Sequoia asked, spinning around in my pink sparkly desk chair.

“Chace isn’t coming,” I groaned. “What am I supposed to stay in EUROPE for god know’s how long without my boyfriend.”

“Oooooo! So it’s official!” she squealled.

“Oh it was official when I laid eyes on him,” I laughed. My phone started beeping and Sequoia tossed it to me.

“I bet it’s him!”

I’m sorry =/. When r u leaving?

I wanted to reply: GO FUCK YOURSELF LOSER

But I didn’t.

The doorbell rand and the Chinese food was here, me and Sequoia power-packed until we had to be at the airport at 5 a.m.

It’s not like we sleep anyway.