The Boxer and I

Six

Heeeeeeey everybody! (that reminds me of something, like in a mexican accent? if you guys know what I'm blabbing about tell me cos it's gonna bother me lol. 

Hope you enjoy!! (and please read my note at the end!) 

happy reaaaaading!

P.S. listen to this while you're reading:

CHAPTER SIX

Part 1

That little bitch.

That stinking rotting idiotic muppet-face of a gorgeous prick.

How dare he? After what I'd told him: 'I don't need to live with anyone or take money from anyone.' But nope, like the usual spastic he is, he gives me a tip of two fucking hundred pounds. He probably thinks it's a nice gesture, and it would've been if we were friends and if he wasn't treating me like shit. However he can't expect me to just take it like I'm a bloody charity case.

His attempt at being nice has failed, badly.

I insert my card into the cash machine and type in the pin when it indicates. A balance of £787.45 comes up on the screen - £200 more than it was three days ago. I click on the 'cash' option and wait for the mouth of the machine to spill out a bunch of the funny-smelling notes with the queens puckered-lipped face staring back at me.

Grabbing the wad of money in my hand, I stuff the notes into a small rectangular envelope and bury it in the pocket of my black bomber jacket, making my way back to my busted up car parked on the side of the road.

The night of Jake's party a few weeks ago isn't exactly the clearest memory, but bestowing all my trust in my (rusty) conscious, I let my mind lead the way to his apartment block. And after about half an hour of listening to soppy pop songs about love on the radio (which I will admit with shame, I was getting into the groove of 'never forget you', I mean the drop though) and a few wrong turns into neighbourhoods that don't look as friendly as mine, my car – which sounds as if it's having a stroke and a heart attack at the same time – turns into the familiar road.

Passing past a few extravagant estates, I reach the familiar block of apartments. I park up the beetle in the closest space I can see and make my way towards the building and into the elevator. Like how I remembered it, with the white walls and shiny tiles, all fancy and crap, I step out of the elevator and towards his apartment door - not really an apartment though, more like a freaking mansion. I swear, as soon as he opens this fancy black door I'm going to need someone to hold me back from punching the air out of his lungs.

Well, that's a tad bit dramatic.

I could handle him treating me like shit, but belittling me? I don't need your fucking money you beautiful bastard.

I lift my hand to press the electronic door bell, but my finger doesn't reach the button, it freezes, hovering inches away from it. I then drop it back to my side and instead grab the envelope from my pocket. Looking angrily at the money, I want to just drop it on his doorstep and leave. The thought of seeing him again gives me the shudders.

It's so strange, I want to see him so badly, but my heart can't handle it. To see him so beautiful, so perfect, but he's not my Jake anymore. Nausea fills my insides when I contemplate the fact that I may never have him back they way it was. You know when something just hits you, like slaps you in the face? Yeah I'm having one of those moments.