Illegally in Love

It’s been three weeks since I last spoke to Peter. I was giving him the cold shoulder. It was immature and child-ish, true, but it was working wonders. Pete was a depressed little monkey man, and I was loving having such control over him. He would mope around all day and not talk much, except when asked something or when trying to get me to talk to him. At this point, I could tell he was really sorry, hell, he was very close to getting on his knees and begging forgiveness, but I just can’t let him off! There is just something inside me that hates him more than I ever thought I could hate a person before, so much that, if that part of me took over, I’d probably go Eliana Bobbit on his ass. I just hold so much resentment against him.

I sighed as the wind blew my raven hair in my face. I tucked it behind my ear and enjoyed theview from the rooftop of the Wentz household I was currently staying at. I watched quietly as the waves slowly crawled higher on the sand. I griped my Nikon SLR Patrick got me, with much protest, for no real special reason except for the fact “that he loves me and because he can”. I love him, but I hate it when he randomly buys me things he knows I’m interested in for no reason.

I snapped a photo of the rising surf. I looked at the LCD screen and smiled in satisfaction. I set the camera back in my lap and re-tucked my hair behind my ear.

“CHANNY!!!”

I scrunched my face up and looked down off the roof to the front yard. On the lawn was Brendon waving excitedly. Far too excitedly, he made himself fall backwards from the force. I laughed as he stood back up and stuck his ass in the air, rubbing the sore spot.

I cupped my hands over my mouth and yelled down, “Yeah, baby! Rub that bubble butt! Mama likes!”

He stopped rubbing and stood up straight, gasping and gaping up at me. “I DO NOT HAVE A BUBBLE BUTT YOU WHOREMONGER!”

I raised my brows at him, “you don’t even know what that means, do you?”

He made a sad face and but his head down in shame, shaking it side to side for a no.

I giggled, “A person who consorts with whores. Pretty much a pimp!” I yelled, stopping a uppity woman walking her dog. She ‘hmmph’ed’ and walked off with her foofy dog.

Understanding dawned on his face. “Oh!”

I smiled. It soon faded when a little white convertible pulled up, carrying Ashlee. She got out in her clickley heals and looked and Brendon, then at the roof. Her face became red when she noticed some of the neighbors staring at me. She whipped out her phone and pecked in a number. Brendon looked and me and I shrugged. Suddenly I heard Buckcherry’s ‘Crazy Bitch’, Ashlee’s ‘special’ ringtone. Perfect right?

I sighed and hit the little green button. “Your local whoremonger here, I’m happy you choose me out of all the monger’s out there! Our special today is Bodacious Bohemian Bombshells! How may I assist with your horny needs?”

I must say, that was very hard saying that and keeping a straight face at the same time when I saw Ashlee’s.

Through gritted teeth she growled, “Get the hell off my goddamn roof before I come up there and drag you down myself.”

I laughed, “In those stilts? Yeah right lady! But I’ll come down, if you do me a favor.”

She visibly groaned, “What?! What is it you could possibly want?”

I smiled softly. “Tell Pete I forgive him for being a douche the other day, and to get over himself and to stop thinking the worst of me.”

She stood there stunned for a few seconds and finally managed to utter an, “O-okay…”

I nodded, hung up my phone, and went back into the house.