Both Sides | ✓

Chapter 2

Cleo's POV:

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The school day had finally come to an end, which meant my half-hearted efforts of just sitting in a classroom could come to an end. I walked out of school and automatically looked for Andrew's convertible. The red paint job caught my eye as I made my way the car.

"Hey, " Andrew said, not looking up from his phone screen.

"Hey, " I replied, slinging my backpack into his back seat. He finally looked up and shot me a smile. "So, where are you taking me out?"

"Right. About that," he started, sliding his phone in a pocket and pulling out of his parking place. "I know I promised you but today's no good. I've got a shit load of weight training to do for football. Like, I'm heading to the gym right after dropping you off."

I wasn't really surprised, or disappointed. I could always pick up an extra shift at work or use the time to catch up on sleep. But, Andrew had fallen into his usual habit of breaking promises and I was already mad about the entire incident from the other day. This just pushed me a bit more towards jumping out of his car and walking home.

"Fine, whatever. Just take me home," I huffed, looking vacantly at my phone and slouching in the seat.

"Are you upset?"

"I'm fine. I just don't get what's going on with you."

"I don't know," he said through a breath, steering the car into the street. "Coach has been grilling me about my grades. Apparently, I'm too close to failing and I have to raise my 70s."

"So raise 'em, " I grumbled.

He scoffed as I turned to the side. "Look who's talking. Aren't you failing half your classes?"

"I'm not complaining about it, though, am I? Besides," I said. "You know that I have my own reasons."

"Yeah, and I have mine. God, Cleo, you're being a real bitch right now."

"I'm being a bitch? Was it not you that had some other girls' nudes on your phone?"

"Okay, that's not fair. You said you were gonna forgive me."

"And you said you'd make it up to me so, I guess we're both liars."

Andrew didn't respond after that. He just gripped the steering wheel tighter and focused on the road. I was growing bored, not just now, but every time I hung out with him. Our conversations had become a repetitive routine of "how was your day?" "fine, yours?". And his constant pushing toward me sleeping with him only kept me annoyed. I was getting fed up with the number of times he had called me up at 3 AM, wasted and "needing me".

"I'm sorry, " Andrew said as he stopped at a red light. He stopped smacking his gum for a minute and glanced at me. His eyes gleamed in regret: feigned or sincere, I couldn't make out.

"For?" I asked plainly, trying to gauge his truth.

"Everything. I've been a shitty boyfriend lately. I made everything I did seem like your fault even though I know it's mine. I'm sorry about pressuring you and I'm sorry about throwing a fit after not getting my way."

Damn, a real apology? It was rare for Andrew to express any kind of guilt, so I grasped at the opportunity. "Okay," I said. "Thank you."

He pulled my hand into his and kissed my palm. "Love you, " he said.

"Love you too."

The words scratched across my throat like sandpaper. It had never hurt this bad to tell him that I loved him.