The Right Side of the Wrong Bed || Bruno Mars

Chapter 6

Faye

“Why did you do that? Are you crazy?”

My frustration had taken its toll on me. I stomped my way down the stairs of the plain-looking apartment building pretending Bruno was only a part of the wind rushing on my face, present but invisible.

“She’s some sort of witch, Faye. We don’t know what she’s capable of,” he said as he followed behind.

“But she’s so cruel,” I said, my voice vaguely wavering, and skidded to a stop, Bruno nearly knocking into me. I turned to see him. “Why does she have to do that to us? She wouldn’t even help us,” I cried.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But do you really have to hit the bottle of wine and cause it to fall on the floor?” His eyebrows were up, accusing me.

“Said the bloke who, in the first place, wasn’t being rude at all,” I talked back blatantly implying sarcasm, raising an eyebrow up at him too and eventually turning my back, my hair stroking his face.

As soon as we got out of the apartment building, I immediately stormed towards his car parked beside the sidewalk. The door wasn’t locked when I tried to open it. I pushed myself in and slammed the door harder than I expected, and folded my arms across my chest. After a few seconds of uttered silence, I heard the audible clicking of the door at the driver’s seat and Bruno slid in. He focused his eyes on me after shutting the door.

I bit my lips. The tears stung behind my eyes.

Bruno exhaled. “I shouldn’t have drunken that thing,” he said and I remained quiet feeling a wellspring of misery wanting to leap up inside me which I fought hard to force down. “You know...” he spoke again. From the corner of my eyes I can see him feeling for something from the pocket of his denim pants. “I’m not sure if I’m good at comforting people but uh…” He held out his handkerchief to my face as he leaned forward. “Here.”

My eyes dropped to it but I swiftly shifted them back to Bruno. “I’m not crying,” I said but failed to sound as convincing enough for my voice broke to my embarrassment.

“You’re an awful actor, Faye,” he chuckled, his dimples poking out.

At last, a teardrop rolled its way down my cheek and I broke away from our eye contact. I felt blood rose up to my cheeks once he reached for them and brushed his handkerchief against my skin wiping out the tears. “Let me do it,” I hastily took the handkerchief from him, refusing to be trapped in this uneasy feeling, and dry the tears myself.

He flipped his hands up. “Whatever you say, Little Miss Britain,” he teased as he leaned away.

The moment turned to stillness. It was after a few seconds when one of us finally spoke. Bruno had one hand gripped on the stirring wheel as he muttered, “What now?”

“There’s no way out,” It was Meredith’s voice in my head, a whisper meant for only my ears to hear. It was the same thing he told me when we had a fight in the kitchen. “There’s no way out,” I echoed, my eyes were empty and frozen. My mind seemed to be drifting somewhere else. I was not even entirely aware that I had just spoken. I shut my eyes then, and squeezed it open again as if I was being blinded by intense light. “You said it yourself.”

 .

Bruno

“She has a Chuck Berry record?” I wondered out loud in obvious astonishment. The vinyl record smelled of dust and old parchment once I slipped it out of its sleeve.

The bedroom I was supposed to be sharing with Faye I thought was not that bad. It looked quite awesome actually with all the posters covering its cream wall. From Nirvana to Radiohead, The Beatles to The Rolling Stones. But I doubt though, that they were my posters. One would quickly think without a doubt that whoever sleeps in this room probably listens to rock music a lot and perhaps even dreams to be a rockstar or be a part of a band that’s as cool as bands such as Red Hot Chili Peppers.