Status: Sorry to leave you hanging guys! The keyboard on my laptop is malfunctioning.
Stop Pretending That You're Sorry
42
I woke up in bed not familiar to me, yet again. It was starting to become a habit. The bed in question belonged to the guestroom of the Tucci household. I’d stayed the night, borrowing some dry clothes from Mrs. Tucci. God, she was a sweetheart.
Belgian waffles for breakfast, how fucking delightful is that? Very.
I couldn’t overstay my welcome at their house though, and before I knew it, Vinny and I were back in the crown vic headed towards my doom.
“So. you wanna talk about last night?”
“I need a little clarification. Are you talking about me crying or the other thing?”
“If by ‘the other thing’ you mean the kiss, then yeah.”
“I like you, Gavin. You’re sweet and caring, and always there when I need someone.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means we should get together.”
He was quiet for about a minute, mulling this idea over in his head.
“Ight,” He said, turning to smile at me. One hand abandoned the steering wheel and snuck over to cover my own.
And then Tucci and I were a thing. Together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.
We held hands in the hallways, left each other with a little kiss each time we parted. It was nice being able to be public with someone. It was also nice seeing John’s irritation. That’s what you get, bitch.
But it’s not like this relationship was solely to get revenge on John’s ass for dumping me, I did genuinely have feelings for Gavin Tucci.
It was Thursday when I finally plucked up the balls to go retrieve my things from John and Max’s flat.
The first night I had gotten home, things went unexpectedly. My mother seemed to have surfaced from whatever drug induced stupor she had been in since I arrived. And Anthony was in good spirits, acting almost… sweet.
Since then things hadn’t changed much. We were still eating crappy shit out of boxes, and living in a crack den. But the positive mood had significantly changed the atmosphere.
That was what my mind fixated on during my walk to John’s place. Fuck. I did not want to do this. Seeing him at school was bad enough.
It took me ten minutes to just work up the courage to knock on the door, I kept putting my fist up to do so, but then walked away. That cycled continued another six or so times, until finally someone opened up the door.
A short pale girl, with a rusty red pixie cut, her septum pierced with a rainbow colored ring, and big wooden plugs in her ears. Judging by the long tie dye skirt she was wearing, I had a feeling who it was. I hoped I was wrong.
“Oh, hello there! You must be Regan. Max said you’d be stopping by sometime this week. I’m Cayleigh.”
Fuck, I was right.
So was that it then, was that why John left me? Cayleigh returned from Africa? FUCK HIM.
Belgian waffles for breakfast, how fucking delightful is that? Very.
I couldn’t overstay my welcome at their house though, and before I knew it, Vinny and I were back in the crown vic headed towards my doom.
“So. you wanna talk about last night?”
“I need a little clarification. Are you talking about me crying or the other thing?”
“If by ‘the other thing’ you mean the kiss, then yeah.”
“I like you, Gavin. You’re sweet and caring, and always there when I need someone.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means we should get together.”
He was quiet for about a minute, mulling this idea over in his head.
“Ight,” He said, turning to smile at me. One hand abandoned the steering wheel and snuck over to cover my own.
And then Tucci and I were a thing. Together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.
We held hands in the hallways, left each other with a little kiss each time we parted. It was nice being able to be public with someone. It was also nice seeing John’s irritation. That’s what you get, bitch.
But it’s not like this relationship was solely to get revenge on John’s ass for dumping me, I did genuinely have feelings for Gavin Tucci.
It was Thursday when I finally plucked up the balls to go retrieve my things from John and Max’s flat.
The first night I had gotten home, things went unexpectedly. My mother seemed to have surfaced from whatever drug induced stupor she had been in since I arrived. And Anthony was in good spirits, acting almost… sweet.
Since then things hadn’t changed much. We were still eating crappy shit out of boxes, and living in a crack den. But the positive mood had significantly changed the atmosphere.
That was what my mind fixated on during my walk to John’s place. Fuck. I did not want to do this. Seeing him at school was bad enough.
It took me ten minutes to just work up the courage to knock on the door, I kept putting my fist up to do so, but then walked away. That cycled continued another six or so times, until finally someone opened up the door.
A short pale girl, with a rusty red pixie cut, her septum pierced with a rainbow colored ring, and big wooden plugs in her ears. Judging by the long tie dye skirt she was wearing, I had a feeling who it was. I hoped I was wrong.
“Oh, hello there! You must be Regan. Max said you’d be stopping by sometime this week. I’m Cayleigh.”
Fuck, I was right.
So was that it then, was that why John left me? Cayleigh returned from Africa? FUCK HIM.