I love the girls who hate to love because they're just like me

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't suspect something. I guess I was just too 'in love' to see it." I raised my hands, moving my fingers to put quotes around 'in love', rolling my eyes soon after. Brett sighed and shook his head, looking back down at my magazine. We were both lying on our stomachs, flipping through the latest issue of AP magazine on Brett's bed.

"He's a dick. Don't even waste your time thinking about him," he said bitterly. Brett had never really liked Tony but he'd tried to get along with him, for my sake.

"I'm not," I said firmly, telling myself Tony was out of my life for good...except for one small detail. "It's just...my CDs are in his truck." Brett laughed lightly at what he thought was a reference to Dane Cook, and shook his head at me, ruffling my hair.

"I'll buy you another copy of whatever it is. You don't have to talk to him again." I looked at Brett for a minute and raised my eyebrow, making him rethink his response.

"He has my Bring Me the Horizon album," I said, looking at him like he was crazy. "You know, the one Oli gave me last year?" His mouth formed an 'O' and he nodded in understanding.

Brett and I had taken a trip to Steele City, in the UK, for one of BMTH's concerts. We ended up meeting the guys and hanging out with them for the day. Brett's aunt works for Epitaph records so we go to a lot of shows for free.

"Can't replace that one, now can we?" I shook my head and he shrugged.

"We'll get it back." I began flipping through AP once more and one of the adverts for Levy's guitar straps made me think of Tellie. The provocatively dressed girls made me slightly sick.

"It was Tellie," I said quietly, turning the page as I tried to rid my mind of Tony. My eyes caught an interview with The Used on the next page and I pretended to read.

"What?" Brett asked and I looked up at him.

"Tony cheated on me with Tellie." Tellie was a girl that used to work at Starbucks with me. We never talked outside of work and, even still, we weren't really friends. I never had anything against her, she was nice and all, we just never really clicked.

"That chick that used to work with you?" Brett asked, his brow furrowing in question.

"Yup." I looked back at the mag and moved my finger along the page, trying to be more convincing. I didn't really feel like talking about this and I regretted bringing it up again.

"Whatever," Brett scoffed, resting his hand on my back. "Tellie's got nothing on a girl like you. You're amazing and she...she's just Tellie. Those two deserve each other."

"Thanks," I smiled and Brett moved my hair behind my ear. It was in that moment that I realized Brett was the only boy who would ever really care about me, forever. No matter what kind of stupid shit I did, he would always love me and he would always be my best friend. I promised myself, right then and there, that I would never be stupid enough to be tricked into falling in love again. I had been hurt too many times and men could not be trusted, Brett being the only exception.

I sighed softly and rolled over onto my back, staring up at the posters on Brett's ceiling: Rancid, Dillinger Escape Plan, Motion City Soundtrack, and I Am Ghost. His aunt usually sent him Epitaph stuff when she got things for free. I wondered how Laurie was doing these days.

"How's your aunt?" I asked absentmindedly and Brett lay down next to me, still on his stomach.

"She's good, I guess. I haven't talked to her in a while. I should probably call her soon," he said, his mind wandering off.

"Yeah." I looked over at the alarm clock that sat on his nightstand and the glowing numbers read 11:30pm. Brett noticed me staring and got up casually.

"We should get to bed. I think somebody has work tomorrow."

"Yeah," I mumbled through a yawn and he smiled at me. I closed the magazine and tossed it onto the floor. I pulled back the comforter and the sheets, crawling into Brett's bed lazily.

"There you go," he said softly, taking the sheets and tucking them in around me. He gave me a small smile and leaned down, kissing my forehead gently.

"I'll wake you up at seven?" he whispered and I nodded slowly, feeling my heavy lids close. "Night, Avery."

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I felt a hand on my shoulder as Brett shook me lightly.

"Wake up, Avery." I opened my eyes and squinted immediately as the bright morning light shone in through the crack in the blue bedroom curtains. I brought my hands up to cover my eyes and rubbed the sleep away. "Go have a shower," he said, pulling off my covers quickly, like a band-aid. "I'm making breakfast."

As if it were programmed inside of me, I got out of bed and made my way out of Brett's room. I felt like I was somewhere between sleep and awake as I made my way down the hall and into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and closed my eyes for a minute. They shot open as I slowly toppled over, slamming my head into the bathroom door in my sleep-like state. I yawned and stripped down lazily, taking a quick, cold shower to wake myself up.

I stepped out of the bathroom, after I'd dried and cleaned myself up, with a towel wrapped around my body. I hoped I still had some of my clothes in Brett's closet. I had spent many nights here, sometimes weeks, and he had just kept some of my clothes for convenience.

I walked into his room and opened up the closet, skimming through his band t-shirts and jeans. I pulled everything to one side and found a few of my shirts hiding in the back. I pulled out a baby blue Dashboard Confessional tee and rummaged around for some pants.

I had no luck in the closet so I turned to his dresser, opening drawer after drawer, until I finally found a pair of my boot cut jeans. They were the low-rise, ripped ones I had been looking for a few weeks ago. Brett had told me he couldn't find them, so I had assumed they were at Tony's. I was glad they were here. I didn't really want another reason to talk to him.

I dressed quickly and tossed my towel into the hamper, heading downstairs. As I walked into the kitchen, the smell of french toast hit my nostrils like a wave of wonderful sweetness.

"Oh my god," I moaned. "That smells so good." Brett looked over his shoulder and smiled at me from the stove.

"Could you grab the OJ, babe?" he asked and I walked over to the fridge without question. I knew why he was doing this. French toast was my favourite breakfast food ever. He was trying to make me feel better and I loved him for it. He was the sweetest boy in the whole world.

I grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and placed it on the counter to my left. I reached above me, into the wooden cupboards, and pulled out two glasses and two plates. I set the table and sat down as Brett came over and placed two slices on my plate. I smiled up at him and poured myself a glass as he dealt out two slices to himself as well.

We both ate in silence for a bit, as we wandered our own minds. Brett was probably thinking about everything, then again, he could have been thinking about nothing. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. Normally, I was pretty good at deciphering his facial expressions but sometimes they were pretty close to being the same.

I was thinking about how today would play out and all the opportunities Tony would have to show up and ruin my day. I tried not to think about that anymore.

"Thanks for making me breakfast," I said before putting the last piece of toast into my mouth. Brett smiled at me through his glass of orange juice as he took a big gulp.

"Do you want me to drive you now?" he asked and I gave him a nod, standing up and taking our plates over to the sink.

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When Brett dropped me off, the line-up was already out the door. I groaned and let my shoulders sink, completely dreading mornings.

"I'll pick you up at three thirty?" he asked and I nodded, giving him a small smile.

"Thanks, Brett."

"See yah babe." I shut the door and turned my back on the car, walking over to the storefront. I squeezed past all the impatient customers and made my way inside the small coffee house. I was absolutely horrified by the fact I would have to deal with making twenty-three coffees in a matter of minutes.

As I made my way past the counter, I was surprised to see Greg and Steve, as well as my manager, all working together. Usually, it was only Greg and me that worked together on a Thursday morning, so I was slightly confused.

"Avery." I stopped and turned around, facing my manager as he walked out from behind the counter. "I need a word." I gave him a nod and we both made our way into the back. He shut the door behind us and my sweaty palms gripped the strap of my messenger bag.

I was nervous. He only used that tone when someone was in trouble. But, I hadn't done anything wrong. I needn't be worried, right?

"I understand there was a bit of a...scene yesterday," he started and I knew exactly where this was going. He was going to tell me that I shouldn't have left work and that it was never to happen again. I felt guilty for leaving Chloe but she had said things were under control.

"Yes," I answered, feeling my hands loosen from my bag.

"It was completely unacceptable that you left poor Chloe here, all by herself." His tone turned angry and serious and I was afraid again. "I've had four customer complaints about yesterday. Four, in one day!" He seemed kind of angry. "Do you have any idea what that does for me? I can't have my employees running off whenever they see fit. Chloe had a lot of work to do, and she dropped two cups of coffee. Do you know how much money that costs me?"

Okay, so maybe he was really angry.

"Five eighty-four," I said, reciting the cost of two coffees from the menu. He gave me a sharp look, warning me not to be a smartass, and continued on with his lecture.

"It costs me a lot more than that. It costs me customers."

"Craig, Chloe said she could handle things," I said in defence but he simply shook his head at me.

"I'm afraid I can no longer have you as an employee, Avery. Grab your things and leave, this room is for employees only." My mouth dropped open and I stared at him in shock. This was fucking ridiculous!

"Are you kidding me?" I was serious. I really wanted this to be a joke.

"Do I look like a jester?" His hands folded over his chest and I gritted my teeth.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Hell, I was already fired. Why not speak my mind now?

"You're fired, Avery. Leave," he said flatly and I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever," I muttered, shaking my head at him, "Your loss. Have fun dealing with that line-up." I gripped the strap of my messenger bag and stormed off, leaving the building and walking out onto the road. I prayed that Greg and Steve had a sudden attack of clumsiness and dropped a bunch of coffee on the ground. Maybe, if I were lucky, Craig would slip and break his neck.

I walked down the sidewalk and pulled out my cell phone, ready to call Brett. I paused for a minute, reaching the corner of the street, and thought about what had just happened. This was a huge deal.

I couldn't call Brett. What was I thinking? If he knew I got fired it would just put an extra order of crap on his plate, most of which he didn't need. I didn't want to worry him any more than I already had.

I put my phone away as the light turned green and I crossed through the busy intersection. I'd just have to walk home and wait until 3:10 to call Brett. I'd tell him I'd walk home, that way nothing would seem out of the ordinary.