Flipping Coins

The sweetest banner you will ever lay your lucky eyes on by the infamous Miki! (A.K.A Sydney Vicious) <3

“I have two more days left before I leave,” Jordan whispered against my lips.

I groaned, pressing my lips more forcefully against his to show my reluctance of letting him return back to his humble abode in Los Angeles.

Jordan laughed lightly and pulled away, to my very dismay. “Seriously, though. I want to do something special,” he said, gazing at me with his eyebrows raised.

We were sitting in the backseat of my car, parked in front of Jordan’s hotel. Jordan was leaning on me as I was pressed to the very far left corner of my automobile. We had been progressing well in a very hot make out session--that was until Jordan decided to be go all ‘let’s talk about sad shit’ on me. Seriously, what kind of guy ruins a make out session on purpose?

I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this go, and sat up straight, adjusting my hair. Jordan sat up as well, lounging on the opposite side of the car so that there was a whole two feet between us.

“Well what do you have in mind?” I asked, combing my fingers through my scalp.

Jordan peered thoughtfully out the window, whispering something under his breath.

“What was that?” I asked, staring at him.

Jordan immediately met my eyes, smirking evilly. “I was thinking about a fancy-smanshie dinner, but I know you’re not into that kind of stuff, judging from how frigid you were the last dinner we went to---“

“I don’t mind getting fancy,” I said indifferently. “Those were under different circumstances, anyways. And I was not frigid.”

Jordan’s smirk grew. “Sure, Emie Goosey. Anyways, are you sure you wouldn’t mind something that intricate? You’re not exactly a fan of dressing up, either.…”

“Now you're saying that I don’t dress well?” I asked, hiding the hurt I was feeling with mock sarcasm. I was trying to dress better for him, but apparently I wasn’t making much of an impression.

Jordan smiled at me. “You’ve never been the girly type, babe.” I guess some of the hurt bled through my face, because he immediately softened up. “But I like that about you,” he said quickly, rubbing my arm. “You don’t have to be slutty and done up to be beautiful.” He grinned at me, trying to make up for his words.

I nodded. “Sure, Jordan Almond.” And despite my glum voice, his words did spark a few fluttery fellows to appear in my intestine.

Jordan took my sarcasm to mean the worst, and leaned into me again, taking up the two feet that had been separating us.

His lips moved against mine as he softly spoke, “And this time should be much better than last time we went out.”

“Why’s that?” I breathed, dying at how his breath felt against my lips.

Jordan smiled as he kissed me. “Because no hot rock star is going to steer you away from me this time. I’ll have you all to myself.”

How foolish I was to think he was right.

X………….X

When my dashboard’s clock struck 12, we knew we had to part. I arrived home a few minutes later, slightly in a daze from Jordan’s lips. It didn’t hit me that the blatant toll in my ears wasn’t actually an after-effect of the make out session I had just escaped, but it was my cellphone.

I sighed irritably as I yanked the phone from my pocket, peeking at the name blinking on the screen.

.…….Spence the Menace………

Scoffing, I shook it open and jerked it to my ear. “Hello?” I chirped, but not in the welcoming, friendly greeting type of way. Quite the opposite way, actually.

“What’s up, ugly?” Spencer immediately teased.

“The sky, fuck face. What do you want?” I snapped, in no mood to waste time with Spencer’s joking spunk.

Spencer laughed, holding the phone away as he repeated my response to whoever was in the background. After their share of chortles, Spencer’s voice reappeared, “I can see the stick up your butt is extra sharp this lovely night, so I’ll just get straight to my point.“

“You’re too generous.” I rolled my eyes as I shook off my flats, kicking them somewhere in my living room.

“Well, I actually have a few points. Firstly,” Spencer announced, “Brendon wants to talk to you.”

And before I could scream no, the phone was tossed, and Brendon’s confused voice called unsurely, “Hello?”

I could clearly hear laughter in the background, most likely coming from a drunk Spencer and Zack. I figured that Spencer somehow plotted things to go like this--luring Brendon into the room to toss him the phone that I was on. It was a setup.

“Brendon?” I asked dully.

“Emie?” Brendon asked without breath, shock clearly read within his tone. He then turned to the howling boys and yelled in a distant voice, “Guys! Shut the hell up already!” Then a door slammed shut, and silence ensued from the other end of the line.

“Brendon, I don’t want to talk to you,” I stated firmly, preparing every last cell in me to press the hang up button.

“Well I want to talk to you,” Brendon said back curtly. “We all do, actually. Why are you avoiding us?”

“Avoiding you?” I repeated with disbelief. “Even if I was avoiding you, you guys wouldn’t give me anything to avoid! You’ve been avoiding my avoidance.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Brendon said thoughtfully. “Ryan’s been calling you like crazy. He says you never answer.”

“Then he’s a downright lying bastard,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Brendon breathed heavily, seemingly angered by my news. He whispered something to himself, but I couldn’t understand his low words. He then said to me, “Are you sure he hasn’t called you? Like, not even an hour ago?”

“Positive,” I said, and before Brendon could further display his opinion on my words, I continued, “but Brendon? Listen, I really, truly, honestly don’t care. I don’t care if Ryan or Spencer or even you care about me anymore. Move on, please. Forget about me---“

“Forget about you?” Brendon asked. “Forget about you, Emie Brooks? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Hang up, keep on touring, keep on living without ever placing your thoughts on me again,” I answered simply.

And softly--so so softly--did Brendon’s next words reach my hearing, “But I don’t want to forget about you. I can’t forget about you, Emie.”

Before my lightheadedness could get the best of me, I shook off the herd of hormones that took over from his words and snapped, “Well try, Brendon.”

And, I’m aware that I chose the most cliché moment of the conversation to do this at, but I hung up. Let’s see how he liked the dial tone.