Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
"Use Me."
I don’t say thank Seb right away because he seems to be cooling down still. In fact, we don’t actually speak until we get to his car and then it’s him to speak first, just as he’s pulled the car out of the parking space.
“Probably better to stay away from Marina,” he tells me calmly, almost sounding like his usual self again. “She’s not in the best head space right now.”
“It’s not like I went looking for her,” I say nervously. Thing is, I’m grateful that Seb was there and stopped her from . . . well, from whatever she was about to do but I don’t want him to think that it’s down to me or anything. “She really hates me.”
“It’s not you she hates,” says Seb, darkly. “Trust me.”
I really want to ask him more but I can’t work up the nerve to. See, a normal person would have done, like Izzie. She would have badgered Seb all the way home but I just can’t do stuff like that. I’m still reeling from the whole thing.
I didn’t really understand what Marina or Seb were talking about but it didn’t seem to be completely about me. Which is obvious because I’m not the centre of these peoples’ lives.
Although I am now a presence.
Having said that, I don’t think I will be for much longer. It’s doubtful that Marcus will get in contact so it looks as though Marina may have got her wish.
When I get home, I text Bridget and ask her to call me but she doesn’t. She’s probably still out with pretty Matthew Bryer and his friends. I’m not really jealous of that anymore though.
Because I’m sort of part of an older group now. Granted I seem to be causing a lot friction between people and I don’t know what Marcus wants with me but whatever the reason is, it partly has to do with Marina. Maybe he just really doesn’t like her and she fancies him like mad and he . . . I don’t know, he wants to rub it in her face or something?
I have no idea but every idea I come up with seems to have a floor.
Eventually, it’s almost a relief when my Mum knocks on my door and tells me to turn out my light.
Although of course I’m still thinking about it. I’m still holding my phone and waiting – praying – that Marcus will text me.
Because, honestly, I don’t really mind if he’s using me for some dark scheme. As long as at some point he holds my hand again.
“Probably better to stay away from Marina,” he tells me calmly, almost sounding like his usual self again. “She’s not in the best head space right now.”
“It’s not like I went looking for her,” I say nervously. Thing is, I’m grateful that Seb was there and stopped her from . . . well, from whatever she was about to do but I don’t want him to think that it’s down to me or anything. “She really hates me.”
“It’s not you she hates,” says Seb, darkly. “Trust me.”
I really want to ask him more but I can’t work up the nerve to. See, a normal person would have done, like Izzie. She would have badgered Seb all the way home but I just can’t do stuff like that. I’m still reeling from the whole thing.
I didn’t really understand what Marina or Seb were talking about but it didn’t seem to be completely about me. Which is obvious because I’m not the centre of these peoples’ lives.
Although I am now a presence.
Having said that, I don’t think I will be for much longer. It’s doubtful that Marcus will get in contact so it looks as though Marina may have got her wish.
When I get home, I text Bridget and ask her to call me but she doesn’t. She’s probably still out with pretty Matthew Bryer and his friends. I’m not really jealous of that anymore though.
Because I’m sort of part of an older group now. Granted I seem to be causing a lot friction between people and I don’t know what Marcus wants with me but whatever the reason is, it partly has to do with Marina. Maybe he just really doesn’t like her and she fancies him like mad and he . . . I don’t know, he wants to rub it in her face or something?
I have no idea but every idea I come up with seems to have a floor.
Eventually, it’s almost a relief when my Mum knocks on my door and tells me to turn out my light.
Although of course I’m still thinking about it. I’m still holding my phone and waiting – praying – that Marcus will text me.
Because, honestly, I don’t really mind if he’s using me for some dark scheme. As long as at some point he holds my hand again.