Did We Break-Up?Mature

I groaned. God. Why was he, like my mother, being so annoying? I mean, I guess I was wrong for doing that. I wasn't right. But it was my career. My fucking future, goddamnit!

"You told him, didn't you?" Anne Marie judged from my face.

"Not exactly as I had planned," I mumbled, hopping into bed, burying my face into my pillow.

"Obviously," Grace said, "he has the right to be angry, Hales."

I groaned. I sat up, moving my hair out of my eyes.

"That was bad," I said, recalling the fight.

"Really bad?"

"Really bad," I nodded, running my fingers through my hair.

"How exactly were you gonna tell him?" Stacey asked.

"I don't know. We'd go out... get him drunk a little. Have sex... then boom, I'd tell him."

"Wow."

"It's would've worked," I whined, plopping my face down into my pillow again.

Stacey's phone rang.

"Oh, it's Frankie!" she said, happily.

"Go on with your happy little lives," I moaned, "while I'm stuck like this."

"You could say sorry," Grace suggested.

"But I'm not wrong!"

"You kinda are," Anne Marie said.

"Holy fucking god," I said, bolting up, "if you think he's right all the time go ahead and date him!"

"Calm your ass," she said, laughing.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't care if I was being dramatic. I didn't care if I was a bitch.

"Hales," Grace said, "go talk to him."

"I'm sorry," Stacey said, "but you wanted him."

Someone knocked on the door. Frankie.

"Ready for our date?" he asked.

"Yes," Stacey said happily.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, tapping my shoulder.

"Everything," I moaned.

I got up, looking down at him from my bed.

"This is your fault," I said, nodding, "you hooked us up."

"Oh, you're talking about your fight with Jacob?"

"How'd you know? What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything. You guys did have a fight in the boys bathroom. People who were probably taking a shit heard it all."

"Crap."

"Yeah. But... he's pretty pissed, too. So, you shouldn't talk to him right now. Let him cool off."

"He's drinking?"

"We gotta couple beers in apple juice boxes in our fridge."

"Lucky bastards," I whispered, "sorry. I'm ruining your date."

"It's cool," Stacey said, kissing him.

"Lucky bitch," I said.

"You wanna kiss too?" Frankie asked, puckering up.

She punched him laughing.

"I'm sorry, doll," she said.

I rolled my eyes, putting in an old movie, and started acting as if we broke up.

The End

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