A young girl, in love with her best friend, who is now her boyfriend struggles to understand where things will take her. (Really short basiclly only one chapter of what I couldnt fit in my other s...
"Listen. . . I'll call you later ok?"
She hung up and was quiet for a long time after. She knew he wouldn't call like she wished he would but would end up sending a text later that night after she had fallen into a fitful sleep.
Things were rocky and had been for a few days. They always made up though so that didn't bother her. But that was a lie. It did. She despised fighting with him. 2 years of this was more than enough. The fights, not really full fights, more of nit-pickings and arguments, most of the time joking, had finally worn her out.
She loved him more than she thought she could ever love anyone. But the way he had treated her just then had hurt her.
She just wanted to see him but how was she to know that at that moment he had been in a conversation with his mother?
"You always call just as she's asking me to do something."
It was the way he had said it. He didn't want to talk to her. Ever it seemed like. She tried to make plans to do something days in advance so he could ask and he never bothered to ask. There was almost no affection to her when they were in public and she felt maybe, just maybe she wasn't good enough. Things weren't supposed to be like this they were the "perfect" ones. The ones their friends envied because they loved each other so much.
But she wasn't sure how much he loved her.
She hadn't realized how long she had been sitting, alone with the lights out until her phone beeped. It had gotten dark outside in the time.
A new text. In the text was the picture that he had taken of her the day before when she had been laying on his bed. One of the many pictures he had taken.
And it read:
Look at that slut that's on my bed! I love her.
Yeah... they would make it.