Status: Sorry to leave you hanging guys! The keyboard on my laptop is malfunctioning.
Stop Pretending That You're Sorry
20
After dinner Gavin took me out to the Crown Vic. Mrs. Tucci had packed me a container of leftovers, hopefully I could make it feed three people. Mom would love it.
It was quiet on the way home, only broken by shitty music and radio commercials.
He stopped the car just short of my house and I turned to him, confused.
“Regan, if someone swung at you, I swear I’ll kick his mother fucking ass. No guy hits a girl, that just ain’t right-“
Instead of my normal charade of ‘No, no one hurt me, I’m just clumsy.’ I opened my fat mouth and said, “How do you know it was a guy?”
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, as I often do regarding stupid things I say.
“What?” My answer completely threw him off. He wasn’t expecting that.
“Nothing. No one hit me, I just wanted to know why you assumed that if someone had hit me it would’ve been a guy? It could’ve been anyone.”
“If no one hit you then what happened?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Stop changing the subject, Gavin.”
“Aight, aight, I just figured it was a guy. I mean I seen girls get hit by guys, don’t see a lotta girls get hit by girls, especially that hard.”
“Well, Sherlock, what a fabulous deduction,” I smirked. “Unfortunately you were wrong. I’m an incredibly clumsy person, you should learn that now. I’ll often have bruises, cuts, broken bones.”
It was complete and utter bullshit, but at least now I had a cover story. Maybe I could even pretend to trip and fall over sometimes, just to sell it even more.
“Aight, I believe you.” He put the car back in to drive and pulled up in the driveway in front of the house I’d come to loathe.
To be honest I was terrified of going back in there, but maybe things would be different. After all, mom stood up for me.
“Night, Regan.” And before my brain could process it he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
Shit.
I pulled back quickly.
“Gavin, no. I’m sorry, just… no,” I whispered, unable to make eye contact with him.
And that was how I left him, shell shocked in the driver’s seat of the crown victoria, waiting for a kiss I’d never return.
Wow I’m a bitch.
It was quiet on the way home, only broken by shitty music and radio commercials.
He stopped the car just short of my house and I turned to him, confused.
“Regan, if someone swung at you, I swear I’ll kick his mother fucking ass. No guy hits a girl, that just ain’t right-“
Instead of my normal charade of ‘No, no one hurt me, I’m just clumsy.’ I opened my fat mouth and said, “How do you know it was a guy?”
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, as I often do regarding stupid things I say.
“What?” My answer completely threw him off. He wasn’t expecting that.
“Nothing. No one hit me, I just wanted to know why you assumed that if someone had hit me it would’ve been a guy? It could’ve been anyone.”
“If no one hit you then what happened?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Stop changing the subject, Gavin.”
“Aight, aight, I just figured it was a guy. I mean I seen girls get hit by guys, don’t see a lotta girls get hit by girls, especially that hard.”
“Well, Sherlock, what a fabulous deduction,” I smirked. “Unfortunately you were wrong. I’m an incredibly clumsy person, you should learn that now. I’ll often have bruises, cuts, broken bones.”
It was complete and utter bullshit, but at least now I had a cover story. Maybe I could even pretend to trip and fall over sometimes, just to sell it even more.
“Aight, I believe you.” He put the car back in to drive and pulled up in the driveway in front of the house I’d come to loathe.
To be honest I was terrified of going back in there, but maybe things would be different. After all, mom stood up for me.
“Night, Regan.” And before my brain could process it he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
Shit.
I pulled back quickly.
“Gavin, no. I’m sorry, just… no,” I whispered, unable to make eye contact with him.
And that was how I left him, shell shocked in the driver’s seat of the crown victoria, waiting for a kiss I’d never return.
Wow I’m a bitch.