Cruel Summer - Conrad Fisher

eight

    "Can you give me a minute?" I ask Tripp, not bothering to wait for his response before walking over to the boys, who are hunched over laughing. Conrad cracks a smile. He finds the fact that they nearly hit my date in the head with a golf ball funny too, "what the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask my brother, slapping his arm.

"What does it look like we're doing, Flo?" Steven asks me, "we're mini-golfing."

Conrad laughs, and I shoot him a glare. For the first time in a long time, I want to wipe his stupid smile off his face, "we didn't even realize you were here," Jeremiah adds, though the smirk on his lips is a clear indicator that he's lying, "we definitely didn't track you on find my friends."

"You tracked me?!" I raise my voice, and a couple nearby turns to look back at us, glaring at me. I take in a breath, lowing my voice, so only the boys can hear, "you guys are going now. This isn't funny."

"It's a little funny," Conrad corrects me, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, c'mon, Flo," Steven ruffles my hair, "we're just joking around. We were going to crash Belly's date, but we were scared to see them making out."

"So, you crashed mine?" I ask him, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Jeremiah shrugged, nonchalant, "it was Conrad's idea."

Conrad's smile drops as soon as his brother says that, his gaze drifting to the ground, "Tripp's a jerk," He mutters, shrugging his shoulders, "figured you might want an out or something."

I hate that he's right. Except jerk seems like too nice of a word. Pretentious, douchebag is more like it, not that I'd admit that to Conrad. I want to scream at him. My mind is in a rush with all the things I want to say. Now is not the time, though, nor the place. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of riling me up on my date, "Steven," I turn to look at my younger brother, "if you don't leave, I swear to god I will send your little girlfriend your Dramione fanfic."

"You wouldn't," He stares at me in disbelief as Jeremiah chuckles. Even Conrad laughs, though he covers it with a cough.

"Oh, but I would," I step closer to him, a threatening look in my eyes, "I think she'll love the chapter where you describe Draco's wand, don't you think?"

"Bro," Conrad smirks, not bothering to cover his laugh with a cough this time. If I weren't so angry, I'd take more time to admire the way he's smiling like he used to for the first time in days.

"Oh my god," Jeremiah gasps, laughing, "Steven come on. You don't have to be embarrassed, bro, Draco's hot."

"Drop it. Drop it."

"Seriously," I turn to look at Conrad, who's smiling again, laughter spilling past his lips. His smile drops as soon as our eyes connect, "Please, leave." I don't say it as a question. My words sounded more like a demand.

Conrad opens his mouth then hesitates, "alright," He tells the boys, sighing, "let's go, guys."

Both boys complain in unison, their smiles dropping off their faces, "Seriously, bro? you were the one that wanted to come here in the first place." Steven complained, his shoulders slumping like a little kid as he groaned.

"And now I want to leave," Conrad glared, "so let's go."

I wait for the boys to start walking in the other direction before walking back to Tripp, who's smirking at something on his phone, his fingers typing on his keyboard. Glancing back over at Conrad, I find him already looking our way, a pained expression on his face, "You know the Fishers?" He asks, lowering his phone again.

"I live with them," I answer, fidgeting with the hem of my linen shorts, "do you know them well?"

He shrugs, placing his golf ball on the ground, "sort of. Conrad's always seemed like an asshole,"

"He's just quiet," I defend Conrad without a second thought. When we were friends, other people used to assume that about Conrad all the time, but then he went quiet on me, the one person he used to tell everyone about. Currently, asshole does feel like the appropriate word to describe Conrad Fisher, but only I get to call him that.

You're an asshole. I think as Tripp laughs, what once was music to my ears now sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "Do you wanna do something after this?" Tripp asks me after a few rounds of silence. I'm currently kicking his ass at mini-golf, something he's not good at pretending isn't annoying him.

Absolutely not, I think. Unfortunately, Conrad was right. Tripp is a jerk. He was rude to the employee earlier, has only talked about himself all night and keeps texting. In my limited experiences with dates, he takes the cake as the worst. "My parents are away for the night," He continues once I don't respond, his hand swimming down to my lower back again, "I could..." He dips his head, whispering, his sticky breath hitting my neck, "show you my bedroom."

My elbow flies back without a second thought, pushing him and his gross hands off of me, "you really think after this train wreck of a date I'll want to go home with you?" All of my pent-up annoyance has burst to the top, my hands shaking with anger.

Tripp chuckles as if I'm being dramatic, "What? You insecure, Florence?" He grabs my wrist again, "because you don't need to be. You're pretty. You know I'm not typically attracted to Asian girls, but-"

I slap him before he can finish his sentence, my palm making a satisfying noise against his cheek. He reaches up to touch his cheek, his eyes wide in surprise, "I'm not insecure," I tell him, my hands balling into fists, "you're just an asshole."

I throw my golf club on the ground, resisting the urge to swing it directly into his crouch before walking away, leaving Tripp to watch me go. Anger coursed through my body, my hands shaking as I walked towards the exit, taking my phone out of my pocket.

I've gotten used to derogatory comments like this, remarks about "my kind" being smart or how I was pretty, considering the fact that I was Asian, and I've always remained calm in those situations, not wasting my anger on those idiots. Tripp didn't make it out as easy, and I now regret not slapping every other person before now. It was pretty satisfying.

I debate whether to call for a few minutes before pressing his contact, "Flo?" Jere answers. I can hear the TV on in the background. He's at home. "what's up?"

"I might have slapped my date," I tell him. Surprisingly, a chuckle escapes my lips. I don't feel sad, mainly because Tripp's a douchebag. I'm not missing out on much, "can you pick me up, please?"

"I'm on my way." 

I was going to mix the next chapter y'all are gonna read with this one. But I think it's gonna be pretty long, and I'm not finished it quite yet, so I wanted to give y'all something. 

I think we can all agree that Tripp is the absolute worst... be prepared for some Conrad x Florence next chapter. I promise it's going to be good!