Heading For Nowhere {thirty day writing challenge} [unfinished]

vi

day six: friday

dedicated to kate bc well you'll see

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"Chip!" I shouted. "Don't go, please don't go. I can--I can change, I swear. I won't be the blonde head cheerleader anymore. I can change for you and all of your fraternity boy lifestyle!" I was almost begging at this point, my voice trying to reason with my nearly alienated boyfriend.

His hair was a disheveled mess, flopping into his eyes along with - were those tears? I picked up my Coach bag, slinging it fluidly over my shoulder. My gorgeous blue eyes were obviously brimming with tears, but I had never thought of Chip being one to cry. I tugged down my crop top, trying to pull it past the top of my high-waisted shorts which showed off my long legs. I wasn't really that pretty. I turned back to the quarterback. "Chip, you can't leave. I can change."

"No, Kate. You'll always be," -he paused for a few seconds- "cliché." The last word was a whisper, barely.

"I'll change for you, Chip. I swear." I murmured, my words rasping in my throat.

Chip looked me dead in the eyes. "Kate, I can't be with you. It's not you, it's me."

"Oh, so I'm the cliché one?" I stood straight, but wished I could retract my words. The tears bubbled back to my irises. "I don't want you to leave, Chip. You're the only one for me." I bit my lip and wiped my eyes. "When I look at you, I feel a connection. I don't just like you for your pretty face; I like you for your personality."

His eyes were still trained on mine. "You--you feel it too?" he breathed. "The connection?"

I nodded excessively, and my hands began to shake. "It's as if, we're the only ones for each other?" I said, more as a question than a statement.

Chip pulled my hand into his. "Kate, I need to tell you. I'm actually. . ." His words trailed off, jumbling together until I couldn't make them out. Suddenly, hair started sprouting from around his cheeks, patches forming around his forehead and brow, enlarging his sideburns, lining his neck, and disappearing down his v-neck. There were hairs suddenly growing at an alarming rate along his strong arms and rippling biceps. I could even feel some below my fingers, which were coiled around the back of his hand.

"Chip. . ," I gasped in shock.

He ignored my words. "And Kate, you're--"

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday. Partyin' partyin' oh yeah."

I looked around for the source of the pop music, and found myself drawn back to Chip as he rolled his eyes, obviously ticked off. He pulled his cellphone out of his jeans, unlocking it hurriedly. "Hello?" I could only hear static. "Yeah, Mom, can you call back? I'm sort of in the middle of something."

Louder static this time. Almost as if someone were yelling.

"Yes, I took my medication today. But, Mom, the rash cream had some weird side effects." He released my fingers and raised his free hand up to his cheek, where he absent-mindedly stroked the large patch of fur. "Some radical mood swings, occasional sneezing, oh, and I'm growing hair everywhere."

This time the static was a bit softer. I placed my hand on the curve of my hip, looking at my nails. God, how had I managed to scuff it already?

"Yeah, Mom, everywhere." Chip turned to me and put a hand over the receiver. "Hey, Kate, can we do this tomorrow? I got an important call." He waved the phone in the air for emphasis. "Same time, same place?"

I huffed in disbelief. Oh, no. He was not postponing our soap opera-worthy drama. "Excuse--" I began, but he raised the cell to his ear and smiled at me, twirling his fingers in midair in a hasty wave. Ta-ta, he mouthed, and walked away.

--

i don't even know what i was thinking when i was writing this ok but i ship taco with the passion of a thousand burning stars and so should you

-alyssa-