Fake Girlfriend

I slammed my forehead against the table. Okay, so that wasn’t my brightest idea. The words just sort of… came out. And the result, I had to say, was up there at the top of my ‘worst case scenario’ list. She screamed at the top of her lungs that she hated me, and now most of the people in the room were staring at me.

I couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated. Angry, even. This is exactly why I hated that feeling. Every single time that I got tangled up with it, I was a complete idiot—I mean, it was that feeling, after all, that made me stay with Caroline for three entire years. Not that the feeling then could compare to the feelings toward Thisbe now.

And she hated me. The only reason I knew she’d talk to me again was because of the blackmail. Then again, judging by her reaction to my confession, it seemed that was the only reason she ever tolerated me in the first place. Honestly, even with the blackmail—something I hadn’t even thought about in forever—I had reason to believe that she may “break up” with me, anyways.

It felt like a dozen horses were trampling over me, all being ridden by overly obese men. Weird analogy, I know, but that was how I felt. And God, did I feel like an idiot. Now, when we had to do that project everything would be terribly awkward—my fault. I’ve somehow managed to screw something up. Again. I couldn’t cry—definitely not in a public place like this--, but I certainly felt like it. My whole life I had been a screw up; I shouldn’t be surprised that something like this would happen.

I groaned. Rejection hurts. Badly.

“I heard that from all the way at the other side of the room,” Lex said, sitting his lunch tray down across from me. I lifted my head to meet Lex’s worried gaze. “What just happened?”

“I’m mororn. That’s what happened,” I said. “She said she hated me.”

“So I heard. Delilah went after her just now. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“She screamed at me,” I hissed. “Of course she meant it.” I lay my head back down on the table. “I don’t blame her, I guess,” I added in a mumble.

“What did you do?”

I shut my eyes. “Just said something I wasn’t supposed to.” I groaned. The trampling-obese-horse-rider feeling wouldn’t go away. “Man, does it always hurt this bad?”

Alright, so maybe that was the wrong question to ask a guy who was being used by a girl he loved to get his best friend, but Lex didn’t seem to take it personally. He chuckled. “What? Rejection? Oh yeah, it hurts like hell.” I looked up at him with a you’re-not-helping glare. Lex held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just being honest. But seriously, dude, don’t take it too hard. You guys will get past it. I mean, you’re dating after all.”

The horses magically turned into elephants, trampling around in my stomach. Technically, I could have told Lex that we were really not dating, but for whatever reason I didn’t. I put my head back down. “Yeah, I guess,” I said, but I knew the guilt of not telling my best friend about this façade would slowly eat at me—as it must have done to Thisbe every day. Another reason it was no wonder she hated me.

Truly, was there ever a reason she should actually like me?

Yes, I know: “Don’t say that, Cole.” “You’re better than that, Cole.” “You have good qualities.” You would not believe how many times I heard that from therapists during my foster home days. Did anything they ever said ever help? No. Personally, I think I was in better mental health without the therapists, thank you very much.

I propped my head up with my arm.

“You okay?” Lex asked.

I snickered, trying to brush everything off. “Aren’t I always?”