The Fake Date: One Shot Contest Entry

Well I had a load of fun writing this! It's not edited but I will do that in the next couple of days...trust me!

Hope I haven't ruined the stories, or the characters or else I'll majorly hate myself for it!

Hope you like it, y'all!

Frankie

[Amie]

A small ray of sunshine found its way through the curtains and caused me to wake up. I glared angrily at the curtains before realizing that there was something missing from the picture, a certain dark haired and gorgeous something. I clutched the sheets around me, slowly getting more and more panicked as the reality slowly started to creep up on me. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked dazedly around the room, looking for any sign that the night before wasn’t a dream, that it wasn’t just my imagination, a tear escaped my eye and I felt foolish.

Foolish for letting him take the one thing that I had so dearly saved up for another special someone, foolish for letting him take advantage of me; I just felt plain foolish and worse, I felt used. I sat up and brought the soft white sheet up to my chin, letting the tears fall freely down my face, not caring whether or not the makeup from last night would be ruined, because right now I felt ruined.

I froze when the door quietly opened, and a dark haired figure stepped through the door, tiptoeing and apparently trying to be sneaky. His pants were hanging loosely from his waist and his lack of a shirt caused my breath to stop momentarily. He didn’t notice I was awake until he looked up, he gave me a sheepish smile and came to sit next to me, pulling me close. I flinched away and continued to glare at him,

“Um, I needed to go to the bathroom, and you were sleeping” he said rubbing the back of his neck, an looking up at me innocently and giving me a small smile. I resisted the urge to smile back and slapped him on his chest,

“You. Stupid. Idiot. I. Thought. You. Left. Me” I said in between slaps, I stopped my rage rant and noticed large red hand across his chest, I slowed my breathing and a few more tears found their way through my eyes, stupid traitor tears.

“Hey, hey I’m sorry. You were sleeping, and I figured you’d be pissed if I woke you up and told you I was going to the bathroom, besides you looked sexy lying there in all your ‘after-sex’ glory” he said, allowing himself a smirk and quickly dodging my next oncoming attack on his chest,

“Ugh you’re sick” I replied immediately regretted shouting, a wave of nausea washed over me and I swayed back, my back almost hitting the bed if it weren’t for a pair of strong arms catching me first. He set me down slowly and brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes full of worry, and something else that made my stomach erupt with butterflies.

“Amie, are you okay? You look kind of pale?” he said, touching my forehead with the back of his hand and again with my neck. I felt lightheaded and it occurred to me that I had had alcohol last night,

“Oh I’m fine, trust me Eli; it’s just the alcohol catching up with me” I said reassuring him, all my anger and rage subsided when he looked at me. His intense gaze made my heart stop beating for a second and for a while, if even for a little while, it felt as if he cared, as if he actually loved me; not the fake façade kind of love that we’d been showing off, but the real kind. The kind that makes you forget anything and everything in the world, the kind that would drive you to do the stupidest things in the world if it meant the other could be safer or happier, the kind that could drive you insane and yet at the same time be the best feeling in the world, the kind that made you forget all their imperfections and insecurities; for a moment it felt like the real kind of love. The one they wrote about in books and the ones they showed in movies.