If I Spilt My Guts

If there was ever a moment I loved my life, it wasn't now. Definitly not now. I stood outside my house clad in gym shorts, a tank top, and a giant sweater that clung loosely to my body. I really don't know why I was dresed so unwarmly when it was 17 degrees outside, but I had gone to get the mail outside... and Sarah locked me out.

"Saaaaaarah. Open the dooooooor," I whined while leaning my head against the door, "I'm freeeeeeezing. You don't want your best friend to die do you?"

I heard her laughing at me. I knew she was doing this so I would agree to go with her to a concert, but I couldn't very well go with her if I was dead, now could I? I continued to bang on the door while I felt the wind hit the back of my legs. To say I was cold would be an understatment, I was freezing. I let out a light whimper when the wind hit the back of my legs again.

"Saaaar--"

The door openned, and there was Sarah grinning at me while You Me at Six blasted through the door. I fiddled around with my naked lobe and pouted at her while she just grinned at me.

"Oh Andreaaaaa, aren't you cold? Wearing shorts, what were you thinking?" She was now smirking at me. She moved out of the doorway and I dashed in with my blue hair flailing behind me as the warmth of the house consumed my body. I ran over to the heater and stood in front of it. Sarah stuck her tongue out at me as she walked into our kitchen and started messing around with the bowls and spoons to fix herself some breakfast.

I shivered and turned on the TV as I wrapped myself in a blanket and watched whatever was on. I rolled my eyes when something about being 16 and pregnant popped on. I quickly changed the channel to Cartoon Network and watched some Adventure Time. That was one of my favorite shows. Sarah walked in front of me and plopped down on the couch. She handed me a spoon and we ate her cereal together.

She was my best friend, regardless if she tried to freeze me to death.

_____

Sarah sat in the music room upstairs and played lightly on her drumset. She looked over at me and pouted.

"Please go," she whined. I sighed and shook my head.

"I don't feel like getting trampled in a mosh pit tonight, Sar..."

"If you love me, you'll go."

"If you love me, you wouldn't force me to go."

She grumped at my reply and bangs on one of the cymbols and threw her drumstick at me. I was used to this antics.

"But you'd love them, and--"

"If you stop asking for an hour... I'll consider going."

And with that, I walked out.