Status: Sorry to leave you hanging guys! The keyboard on my laptop is malfunctioning.
Stop Pretending That You're Sorry
18
“Regan?” It was Tucci and he sounded uneasy.
Now I was embarrassed.
“No, go away, please,” I sobbed.
I’m probably one of the most disgusting criers. My makeup runs, snot pours out of my nose, my face gets all red and puffy.
“Regan, what’s wrong?” He made a move to try and pull my hands away from my face.
“No!” My shrill scream echoing around the trees. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”
He threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I’m ain’t touching you. Regan please tell me what’s wrong, you’re freakin me out.”
I felt like I was under water. My lungs felt like they’d been wrapped up tight in plastic wrap. I couldn’t catch my breath. To be honest dying right then and there didn’t seem like such a bad thing.
“Shit, Regan. Yo, you need to calm down. Why don’t you just come back to my house, and clean up and then we can talk?”
“No, I don’t wanna go anywhere.” Of course it didn’t come out sounding that clean because of the crying and my hands covering up my face.
“Aight, we’ll just stay here.”
Some people thought Tucci’s ‘gangster talk’ was stupid, but I found it kind of hot. Not that I was focusing on how attractive he was at that moment though. I was a little preoccupied.
I don’t know how long we stayed up there, it was definitely hours though. It had gotten dark and I had finally stopped crying.
“Hey Regan, you cold?”
Silence. I couldn’t find words. My mouth wasn’t working.
“C’mon. We’ll go inside. Get some food. You probably wanna wash your face up.”
That time I didn’t protest, instead I let him help me back down to the ground and lead me in the direction of his house.
“My family’s Italian, and my mom cooks bitchin food.”
“Thanks,” I croaked. My throat hurt like fuck from all the crying.
Tucci’s house was big. And I mean BIG. There was a beautiful garden out front with a stone pathway leading up to the door. The whole thing just looked like it belonged on the cover of one of those home and garden magazine things.
“Gav, honey is that you?”
“Yeah mom!”
And then she appeared, looking gorgeous. It was refreshing seeing a mother who was all there after dealing with my mom for the past week.
“Oh goodness, who is this? Is everything okay?”
“Uh ma, this is Regan. She’s a little upset right now. Is it okay if she stays for dinner?”
Mrs. Tucci had that look on her face people have when they’re half unsure and half scared shitless.
“Oh, of course.”
Now I was embarrassed.
“No, go away, please,” I sobbed.
I’m probably one of the most disgusting criers. My makeup runs, snot pours out of my nose, my face gets all red and puffy.
“Regan, what’s wrong?” He made a move to try and pull my hands away from my face.
“No!” My shrill scream echoing around the trees. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”
He threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I’m ain’t touching you. Regan please tell me what’s wrong, you’re freakin me out.”
I felt like I was under water. My lungs felt like they’d been wrapped up tight in plastic wrap. I couldn’t catch my breath. To be honest dying right then and there didn’t seem like such a bad thing.
“Shit, Regan. Yo, you need to calm down. Why don’t you just come back to my house, and clean up and then we can talk?”
“No, I don’t wanna go anywhere.” Of course it didn’t come out sounding that clean because of the crying and my hands covering up my face.
“Aight, we’ll just stay here.”
Some people thought Tucci’s ‘gangster talk’ was stupid, but I found it kind of hot. Not that I was focusing on how attractive he was at that moment though. I was a little preoccupied.
I don’t know how long we stayed up there, it was definitely hours though. It had gotten dark and I had finally stopped crying.
“Hey Regan, you cold?”
Silence. I couldn’t find words. My mouth wasn’t working.
“C’mon. We’ll go inside. Get some food. You probably wanna wash your face up.”
That time I didn’t protest, instead I let him help me back down to the ground and lead me in the direction of his house.
“My family’s Italian, and my mom cooks bitchin food.”
“Thanks,” I croaked. My throat hurt like fuck from all the crying.
Tucci’s house was big. And I mean BIG. There was a beautiful garden out front with a stone pathway leading up to the door. The whole thing just looked like it belonged on the cover of one of those home and garden magazine things.
“Gav, honey is that you?”
“Yeah mom!”
And then she appeared, looking gorgeous. It was refreshing seeing a mother who was all there after dealing with my mom for the past week.
“Oh goodness, who is this? Is everything okay?”
“Uh ma, this is Regan. She’s a little upset right now. Is it okay if she stays for dinner?”
Mrs. Tucci had that look on her face people have when they’re half unsure and half scared shitless.
“Oh, of course.”