Pull Out My Insides

God, Dylan is such a douchebag. Ever since I told him that I finished the bet, he just keeps going on and on and on about it. Not like I need another reminder of what's going to happen. I wish that I could keep this a secret, this whole bet thing, but with Dylan as a friend, there's no way that it's going to stay a secret.

As another text makes its way into my inbox, I groan, running my hand through my dark, curly hair and open it, telling Dylan to shut up yet again. A permanent frown seemingly etched into my face quickly turns up into a smile as I see the smiling face of my girlfriend.

She sits down next to me, but before her butt can hit the ground, I pull her sideways and plop her down into my lap comfortably. Her long, lithe fingers run through my hair hesitantly, drawing a sigh from my slightly parted lips. Tears nearly come to my eyes as I remember all of the times that my mother would play with my hair, just like Zara is right now.

"Oh, Asher..." she would sigh. "I wish I had hair like yours."

"But Momma," I would counter, "your hair is beautiful."

And even right before they died, if I was stressed, I'd sit down next to my mom and she'd run her fingers through my hair and pull my head into her lap, causing all of my worries to slowly fall away. Mothers just have a way of doing that.

Zara keeps running her fingers through my hair, causing my eyes to close instinctively. A few moments later, I open my eyes, smiling up to her, and lean up to kiss her on her cute little nose.

"I love you," I coo, savoring the time that I get to tell her that.

"I love you, too," she smiles, kissing me softly.

"Hey, hey, hey! No PDA!" a familiar voice shouts to us.

"Shut up, Suzanna!" Zara shouts to her, laughing the whole time.

☠ Time Lapse☠
Later in the day, Zara and I are hanging out at my house, with my brother not there, doing homework and joking around, when suddenly the doorbell rings. I give Zara a confused look and stand up to get it. To my chagrin, Dylan stands on the other side of the door.

"Dylan? What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask.

"I thought that sending you the money would be too boring, coming and giving it to you would be funner. Plus, I would get a better chance to torment your little victim, eh, eh?" he says, nudging me in the ribs.

"Dylan, just shut the fuck up. I don't even care if I have the money. Just go," I say, rubbing my forehead.

But he invites himself in, walking in without an invitation. What a dick. His mouth starts moving to talk, but it stops short as he takes in the sight of my girlfriend, a smirk taking over his face.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he asks.

I close the door and walk over to Zara, wrapping my arm around her waist and whispering for her to go. But she doesn't listen, just going back to her homework.

"Asher, you never told the poor girl?" he says with fake shock and sympathy.

That catches her attention.

"Never told the poor girl what?" she asks in a meek voice.

"Oh ho ho, Asher. You didn't tell her, did you?" he asks, causing my heart to start beating rapidly.

Oh, God, no. It's coming. It's going to be all over.

"Dylan, please, just shut--"

"No, no, no. Seeing as you won't do it, I'll have the pleasure of enlightening this poor girl."

And she stands up, looking at him strangely.

"Asher? What's he talking about?"

"I'm talking about--" he starts, but I lunge over, covering his mouth with my hand and staring him down.

"Please, Dylan, if you value our friendship at all, don't do this," I say, taking my hand off of his mouth for a second.

"I would, Asher, my friend, if this wasn't so damn fun," he whispers back with a smirk.

"He only did all of this as a bet!" he shouts before I can put my hand back on his mouth. Fuck. It's all over now. A choked sound catches my attention and I snap my head up from its position of hanging shamefully to see Zara looking on the verge of tears.

"W-What? Is it-is it true?" she asks.

"It was--at first! But Zara, believe me, I'm not like that anymore! I love you!" I shout, although I know that her mind was already made up. Hell, if I were her, I'd leave me, too.

"God, I can't believe that I actually," she starts, choking it out a bit. "I can't believe that I actually fell for it. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"No, no, no. Please. Zara... Please..." I whisper, walking over to her, ignoring the smirking profile of Dylan completely.

"No, Asher. How do I know that whatever you're saying right now is a lie, too?!" she asks rhetorically.

"I'm not lying, Zara. Look in my eyes, I'm not lying," I plead with her, but she just looks away, tears in her eyes.

"I don't believe that. I'm done. I just can't believe that I was so fucking stupid to believe that this could actually be true," she mutters, grabbing her stuff and leaving, slamming the door behind her.

As the door slams behind her, tears form in my eyes and Dylan stands there with a stupid smirk still on his face.

"Well, that was--"

"Get out." I say darkly.

"What?" he says, actually confused.

"I said get out." I say firmly again.

"But--"

"JUST GET OUT!" I roar, throwing the nearest thing at him, a glass. But before it can fall, he catches it. Thank God, my brother would kill me if one of the dishes were broken.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET! OUT!" I scream at him, face red in rage.

"Fine, bro. Call me when you're back to your normal self," he says with a shrug, leaving something on the table.

The door closes softly and I walk over to see what he left. Holy shit. It's been a long time since I've seen an 100 dollar bill. A small note is attached to it, explaining that I deserve the money. If my brother and I weren't in such need for money, I would throw it away or give it away, but instead, I clutch it in my fists, shoving it into my pocket and stomping off to my bedroom, throwing myself onto my bed. As I scream into the pillow, my rage doesn't alleviate in the least bit, and soon, I scream myself to sleep.