Shut Up And Kiss Me (gxg)

23. F*ck Her

       "CLAUDIA, GET OUT!" I SAID, throwing a pillow at the door. 

       "I just want to listen,"  I heard her plead, muffled through the door. "Why can't I listen? Are you bing-bang-bonging in there?"

       Skylar, twirling a strand of pink hair over her index finger, actually laughed. I shot her a glare before shouting back at the door, "No, we're not, and you're thirteen! Go do thirteen-year-old things!"

        "I'll be fourteen in 22 days!" 

        "And then you can do fourteen-year-old things."

        "Do those things include listening to your conversations?"

         "No, they don't. Now go away and stop eavesdropping!"

         When I heard her shuffle away, defeated, I turned back to Skylar, who was sprawled over my bed.

         "Anyways, when I got to the table, Olivia was crying."

         Skylar paused, eyes flicking towards me. "I thought she was upset, but I didn't think she was—"

         "Crying, I know," I said. "I think Monroe was trying to comfort her." I didn't mention how my chest stung whenever I thought of that: Monroe had waltzed into the cafeteria to soothe Olivia. "And . . . well, what I got out of her was that Jordana managed to book our band at the Hamilton café."

         Skylar jolted upwards, staring at me with enormous brown eyes. In the afternoon light, honey-golden sunlight slanted across her face. The bright violet and pink colour in her hair seemed to glow.

        "Fucking hell, Tal! That's a great fucking café. The downtown one with all those rich patrons. Holy fuck." 

        Even though I was recounting what had happened at lunch, a smile spread across my face. "I know. We're scheduled for the middle of November. A month from now, basically."

        "What songs are you going to play?"

        And my smile faded. "That's the problem. Olivia was upset because Jordana had—" I dragged my fingers through my hair, exhaling harshly. "Jordana told the managers, basically, that the band was hers—and that she'd written all the songs."

        Skylar's brows pulled together as the realization dawned. "But . . . those are Olivia's songs." She stiffened, and I saw the pink fury flush her cheeks. "That fucking bitch! I'll cut her."

        There was a reason people thought Skylar was a bitch. But in this case—and, since I'm biased, most cases—it was well-deserved.

        "I know," I said. "I would've never saw this coming. And . . . get this. Jordana named the band, too."

        "I thought you guys were still deciding?"

        My jaw clenched at the reminder of this. "She told the Hamilton café that we're called Jordana And The Fairies." 

        "What kind of self-centered fucking bitch—?"

        I nodded again. "Olivia was more upset than pissed, but when she finished the story to Monroe and I . . . well, yeah, I was mad. But you should've seen Monroe." 

        Skylar licked her lips. "I did. Was that when she stalked out of the cafeteria, all sexy and brooding?" 

        I thought it was necessary to say, "Not the sexy part, but the brooding part, definitely. I'm still not sure where she went."