Sequel: Glitter, Guts, Glory ›
Status: complete.
Sluts in Love
Inebriated.
He giggles like a fucking fag bag.
My ears are bleeding.
"So, I told him-"
My ears are bleeding and my brain is seeping through both ear canals and both eye sockets and nose.
"-I mean, can you believe it?"
No, fucking Romeo, I can't believe it. God. Why are you even here anyway? No one likes you. She only needed you for a ride to get me.
"Is your friend gonna be okay?"
Don't speak to me, fucking Romeo. Don't address me directly or indirectly. Just fucking die.
"He's fine." She has a cigarette dangling between her lips. I can tell.
"I mean, maybe we should-"
"Shut the fuck up," I accidentally say aloud. "Fucking Romeo," I then mutter.
I haven't opened my eyes yet but I can tell fucking Romeo turns around. He's in my front sit. My God damn motherfucking front seat. He smells like stale mushrooms and mossy green soup cans. Not even the good soup, but like cream of wheat and shit.
"Are you okay, buddy?" Is he fucking serious?
I don't answer. High and wasted as I might be, I can tell when he's being an ass. More of an ass than usual I mean. I almost feel like cursing out Carnegee too. She knows I can handle my substances and drive my fine ass home but no. She just has to play the fucking saint card for her fucking Romeo so now I'm stuck laying in the backseat of my own damn car while she drives.
"Let it be, babe," she says. I gag internally. Or maybe I actually gag out loud.
"Oh God, he's puking!" Pretty boy says. I almost smirk because I had forgotten this was actually my own car that I'm puking my brains out into.
"Don't you have a bag or something?" he almost seems panicked. I actually laugh. Why is this douchebag even trying? Does his pea brain somehow think she's interested? Piss off, pretty boy.
"He's fine," she reiterates. "But God, Paris, you stink."
My ears are bleeding.
"So, I told him-"
My ears are bleeding and my brain is seeping through both ear canals and both eye sockets and nose.
"-I mean, can you believe it?"
No, fucking Romeo, I can't believe it. God. Why are you even here anyway? No one likes you. She only needed you for a ride to get me.
"Is your friend gonna be okay?"
Don't speak to me, fucking Romeo. Don't address me directly or indirectly. Just fucking die.
"He's fine." She has a cigarette dangling between her lips. I can tell.
"I mean, maybe we should-"
"Shut the fuck up," I accidentally say aloud. "Fucking Romeo," I then mutter.
I haven't opened my eyes yet but I can tell fucking Romeo turns around. He's in my front sit. My God damn motherfucking front seat. He smells like stale mushrooms and mossy green soup cans. Not even the good soup, but like cream of wheat and shit.
"Are you okay, buddy?" Is he fucking serious?
I don't answer. High and wasted as I might be, I can tell when he's being an ass. More of an ass than usual I mean. I almost feel like cursing out Carnegee too. She knows I can handle my substances and drive my fine ass home but no. She just has to play the fucking saint card for her fucking Romeo so now I'm stuck laying in the backseat of my own damn car while she drives.
"Let it be, babe," she says. I gag internally. Or maybe I actually gag out loud.
"Oh God, he's puking!" Pretty boy says. I almost smirk because I had forgotten this was actually my own car that I'm puking my brains out into.
"Don't you have a bag or something?" he almost seems panicked. I actually laugh. Why is this douchebag even trying? Does his pea brain somehow think she's interested? Piss off, pretty boy.
"He's fine," she reiterates. "But God, Paris, you stink."