Chapter Seventeen- Forget It

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Hi. :D A really short chapter, I'm sorry. But I had to capture the feelings there, so I cut it. X) Really sorry for the length. I mean, the last chapter was too long, and now this is too short (I'm not kidding!). This is chapter is, like, 1091 words. That short. Hahaha. :D Well, anyways, enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen- Forget It

Top Ten Reasons Why My Night Sucked Big Time

10) I was wearing something completely inappropriate for the weather, causing me to shiver every now and then.

9) I could have been with Blake.

8) If I was with Blake, none of this would have even happened.

7) I was actually wearing my favorite shirt (though it was a cold night; refer to number 10), and now I had spaghetti all over it.

6) More like I had spaghetti all over me.

5 And not to mention that my cell just went dead, and I'm not sure if Sher could actually come pick me up.

4) I have a hundred-dollar debt on a childhood friend I, honestly, could barely remember.

3) I was on a date with that friend. Yeah, the one I could barely remember. Am I stupid or what?

2) Blake was there. He saw it all.

And the number one reason why my night sucked big time:

1) I was still waiting for Blake to go out of the restaurant to check on me. Or something. And I was, sadly, waiting in vain. And who shows up instead?

                Cam and I just looked at each other. I prepared myself for what I'm sure would come next: a snarky remark, a smirk, laughter, teases, mocks. Bring it on, Cam.

                “What happened?” he asked me, in a voice more serious than I would have expected.

                “Why are you here?” I asked, instead of answering.

                He shrugged. “Cool night and all. And now I see you here, looking like… that.” And then his eyes twinkled in the dark, clearly amused. “Are you supposed to be a mascot or something from that restaurant? Advertising for them, perhaps?”

                I gave him a look. “Oh, shut up.” Yeah. Lame.

                “I’d have a good laugh at this ten years from now,” he told me. “I think. I mean, how often do you get to see Shea Kiana Collins covered in spaghetti?”

                “Cam. Will you please stop?”

                “Nope,” he said. He walked towards me. I crossed my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow at him. Sure, I was covered in spaghetti, but that didn’t mean that I was going to back down.

                He laughed. “I’d love to take a picture right now.”

                “It’s not funny,” I told him, my voice rising a bit.

                “Come on, Shea. You know it is.” He began to laugh again.

                And I couldn’t help it. I laughed too. I mean, he was right. It’s not every day that I have Italian red sauce all over my favorite shirt and all. It was funny, I guess. “Okay. Fine. So it’s a bit funny.”

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