Fake Girlfriend

I tapped my fingers nervously on the wheel of my car as I drove into the school parking lot. Most of the students that weren't staying after school for a sport or club had already cleared out, so instead of parking in my designated parking space near the back of the school, I drove to the front where I could see Thisbe waiting by the entrance. I parked near her in an open spot, frowning. She did not look happy. The nonchalant expression she wore waivered as she walked up to my car. I slid out of the driver seat.

“You okay, Thisbe?” I asked

She closed her eyes, clenching her fists. She looked pale. I took a step towards her, touching her shoulder. “Thisbe?”

She immediately took a step back and opened her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, feebly.

I cocked an eyebrow. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” I asked, afraid of the answer, especially considering the way she was acting.

“Cole,” she said slowly, taking a breath. “Tell me. Why is it I’m still your ‘girlfriend’? As far as I know, you don’t have any other ex-girlfriends to impress, do you?”

I went stiff. I already knew where this was going, and I couldn’t answer her. How was I supposed to? There was no answer. There was no scheme or plan behind the fact that Thisbe was still my fake girlfriend. It was just… just that I liked being around her. Every time I thought about her, my brain told me to do anything possible not to lose her—the same thing it was telling me now, knowing that the end was more than likely near. If she wasn’t my fake girlfriend, admittingly, I was afraid she’d disappear from my life. I couldn’t tell her that.

Thisbe glared when I didn’t answer.

My mouth tried to form words for several seconds, unsuccessfully. In the end, I stuck with my cocky remarks. “Nope. No crazy ex’s this time.” I smirked, when her glare intensified. She was cute when she was angry. The way those round blue eyes of hers squinted. Her slim arms crossed, fingers with nails painted yellow tapped impatiently on them. I wondered for a second if she ever realized her ears sort of move up every time she glared at me like that. Wait, why was I smirking when she was mad? Stop that, I thought, wiping the smirk from my face.

“You’re not going to answer my question, are you?” she said finally.

“I did answer…” I said. “Well, one of your questions…” I added in a mumble.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Every day, I feel like you live to make my life more complicated than it needs to be. You just love to give me hell, don’t you?” she hissed.

My eyes widened a little. “No. That’s not it at all.”

She got into my face. Those pretty squinted blue eyes just an inch or two from mine. “Well then, what is it?”

I stood stiff, unsure of what to say or do to calm her down. Thisbe was one of those people who when angry or frustrated enough, started to cry. The tears were already beginning to well up in her eyes. I hated it when she cried. Her brown curly hair was falling in her face, and the reason she didn’t brush it aside, I think, was because it was hiding her face that showed she was more upset than she’d like to let on. And there was a pang of guilt in my chest, though I wasn’t exactly sure what to do to fix it. Again, while caught up in thought, I forgot to answer her.

“Cole,” she hissed.

My mind raced a thousand miles per hour trying to think of something to say so that she’d stop with those piercing eyes. They had been cute for a short period, but the longer she held that gaze, the more I feared what would come out of her mouth next. The more I feared I was losing her. I couldn’t lose her. My mind moved too fast for me to fully think about anything, really. All I was really aware of was that Thisbe’s absolutely beautiful face was just inches from mine, huffing in anger and desperation. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t think.

I kissed her.

This kiss lasted longer than our first. The last time I had thought about kissing her for the entire time we were in the rink. This time, I hadn’t thought. I just went for it. And for a second, I thought I found the way to stop Thisbe from leaving. However, just as I tried wrapping my arms around her waist, I felt her hand collided with my cheek and make a sickening crack. I think she winced at the noise just as much as I did at the sudden pain. I recoiled, hissing quietly in pain as I covered my cheek with my cold hand. In this cold winter weather, my cold hand was just as good as ice.

I swore. This was the second time I’d tried to kiss her. The second time I had put everything on the line. And the second time it turned out to be a bad idea. I turned and met Thisbe’s slightly apologetic eyes. She held a hand to her lips, and she was trying to glare, but it was quite as piercing as before.

“Quit screwing with my feelings,” she said, holding the tears back.

I blinked. That sort of pissed me off. (Not to mention, getting slapped doesn't leave you in the best of moods.) “Screwing with your feelings?” That’s what she thought I was doing? Honestly, she made loving her—yes, loving her—impossible.

“Yes. Stop it,” she said more firmly, lowering her hand from her mouth.

My brow furrowed. “Maybe you’re the one who should stop screwing with me. You’re impossible, Thisbe. Absolutely impossible.”

She glared. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“That’s the point,” I snapped.

She flinched back but recovered and glared again. “You know what, Cole? I’m done,” she said, and my heart skipped a beat like it was threatening to stop all together. She was starting to get in my face again-- but not too close. “I don’t care about that blackmail photo or what you do with it, or anything else you think to do, for that matter. I don’t want to be stuck in a relationship with you for any longer."

No, was all I thought. No, no, no!

She spun on her heel and began to quickly hussel away. I caught her wrist just before she was out of grabbing range. “No,” I said, very soft, as if it was another thought in my head. She turned to glare, but it was less harsh now. “Don’t go.” She couldn’t leave. If she left like this, there was a big chance we wouldn’t be talking anymore any time soon. No doubt she’d be around: my friends had taken quite a liking to her. However, she’d probably never speak to me again. And to have her so close, yet having her ignore me, would be more painful than if she just disappeared. “Please, don’t go.”

She could no longer hold her glare, but nonetheless, she ripped her arm from my grasp and hurried away to her car. I felt like I was in a dream. One where no matter how much you try to scream and yell, nothing comes out. I couldn’t call out to her. I couldn’t even move. I could only watch her as she slid in her car and drove away.

I slid into my own car, and I just sat there, staring at the ceiling. This was why I hated feeling dependent. Feeling like I needed someone. When was there ever a time where I wasn’t disappointed after having that feeling? My mother abandoned me—not once, but twice. My father committed suicide, leaving me alone. Every single one of my foster families watched me being taken to a new home without even a teary eye. I was always disappointed.

And now, I even lost Thisbe…

And finally, that was enough to make it seem like my world would finally crumble. My mother. My father. My foster families. Thisbe. It was like the floor had been cracking with every face that disappeared from my life, and now finally, the floor of my world was falling through. I clung to the last of it for Joy’s sake. For Mrs. Lovette. For Ross. For Lex and the others. But I was just barely hanging on.

Realizing I was thinking crazy thoughts, I brushed the tears I didn’t know were there from my cheeks, unconsciously, and I let out a shaky breath. Then, I did what I always did: Forget. Move on. Push the memory in the far conscious of my mind, where it would sting until it finally would go numb, like all the other disappointments back there. Let it go. Because, that was all I could do. Life would move on. Life would always move on. Whether I liked it or not…