P.S - I'm Not Your Barbie

Hubba Bubba Chuba (ch. 7)

The second my eyes lock with Mason's, a flood of memories interrupt the peacefulness in my brain. Where was he all these years? Why did he leave me with those haunting last words that creep into my mind from time to time? Why did my best friend leave after he promised not to? 

All these questions run through my head while I take in his appearance. He changed over the years; he no longer has the face of an awkward thirteen year old but of a hot eighteen year old. He now has a deep tan, so I'm guessing he was living somewhere hot and the features of his face are the definition of perfection. As I continue staring at his body and face, I notice a casual smirk form on his face. Safe to say, that smirk snapped me out of my trance I was in.

I walk up to him thinking about which approach I should use... Nice girl that is glad that he is back... Or angry girl that is mad at him for leaving... Naturally I picked angry girl (that is mad at him for leaving) because come on, who does he think he is? He can't just leave me for 5 years after saying what he said and then come back without an explanation. Well, he didn't have a chance to give me an explanation just yet, seeing as he hasn't been able to say anything yet. Who ever said that am I one to use logic? It's highly overrated. 

"Where the hell have you been all these years Mason Henrique Bandez?" I yell, clearly letting my anger get the best of me.

"Well hello to you too Chica" he says, his smirk still resting on his face, "I was in Puerto Rico actually, you broke my heart when you didn't keep in contact."

What the actual fucking hell?!?! Did he not just hear me ask him where he was all these years? Did he not remember that he broke my heart and then left without another word? My emotional and confusing rant was interrupted when I heard someone say, "Hubba Bubba Chubba."

I look to my side and find Chelsea still staring at Mason; I thought she was just all over Jesse a few seconds ago. Seriously, I don't mean to be mean to my friend... But frankly, she is acting like a slut. 

"What did you just say?!" she yells, clearly furious at me. 

I give her a confused look."What the hell are you talking about?!" I yell right back, clueless.

"You just called me a slut! Me, your best friend!"

"I'm sor No, you know what? I'm not sorry; first you hook up with that asshole Jessie Gosper that you know I hate. And don't you dare say I don't have a reason because I do and it's not some random little one either. Second of all, now you're staring at my best friend probably thinking about how you're going to jump his bones in his sleep." I slap a hand over my mouth; I didn't mean to say that second part. Maybe it's true, I could see the lust all over her face, but it was still a hurtful thing to say to her.

She looks at me with a broken and hurt look on her face. She glances at Mason one last time, almost as if memorizing his appearance. Of course. Then, she turns around and starts walking away. Everybody seems to be doing that these days.

"When did you grow a backbone Chica? Seriously, I don't get why you were friends with her, she seems like a bitch. And she was sleeping with Jesse? Ewwww, he probably has more STD's than anyone else I know," he says repulsed.

He's right (for once), I did grow a backbone. When Mason left to wherever he left, I changed. I don't exactly know if it was for the best or for the worse, but I did change and everybody around me noticed it.

"Wait, how do you know Jesse?" I ask confused. Didn't he just tell me he was living in Puerto Rico? I thought Jesse was from L.A? When did they meet?

"Oh, that's not important," he says putting his arm over my shoulders, "Walk with me Chica." I walk with him because his arm kind of has me trapped...

We don't walk for long, maybe 10 to 15 minutes or so, until we are both standing in front of a house. Wait, let me rephrase myself, this place isn't a house, it's a fucking mansion. I look at Mason, trying to see if he is as amazed as I am, but he seems relaxed, like this is a regular sight for him. I guess I was observing him for a little too long because he turns his head towards me and smirks. "Do you like what you see?"

"What do you mean? If you're talking about the house then heck yeah, but if you're talking about yourself then, I don't see what there is to like." I say in my most casual tone.

He leans in close, and I can feel his hot breath on my neck, "Don't lie to yourself Chica, we both know you love me." With that said, a smirk (again) takes its rightful place. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Do not go Jackie Chan on him.

I ignore his comment like it's a dead fly on the floor and flip my hair, turning the attitude on. "Is this your place or something?" I say nonchalantly looking in the direction of which he was standing. Unfortunately, me being my uncoordinated self, was in fact, not paying attention to where I was walking and face planted onto the floor; giving myself the title of moron of the year. 

I only hear laughter at my misfortune; Mason doesn't even bother to help me up. Maybe this is how Jesse felt when bird pooped on his shoulder and I laughed at him. Let me tell you this, the feeling sucks, but that doesn't mean that I'll stop laughing at other people's misfortune... And beating up the people that do the same to me. Yes, yes, I know, I am a mean person. Guilty as charged.

While I was talking to myself, Mason still hadn't calmed himself down so I allowed myself to do the appropriate actions that take place when it comes to helping an idiot. We all know what these actions are, right? I'll give you a few seconds to think... Are you caught up yet, yes? That's great. Now, where's the hose? 

Once my eyes have found their target, I grab the hose and walk back to Mason who is currently rolling on the floor laughing like there's no tomorrow. His eyes are closed so he doesn't notice me, or my neon orange hose. I turn on the water and aim it at Mason, letting all of hell brake loose.

I don't know what he thought when the water hit him, maybe he thought it was heavy rain or something... but the second the first droplet (bucket) of water hit him, he jumped up looking for the culprit. He stalked towards me, playful anger shining through his eyes... and failed to notice the very noticeable, very orange hose underneath his feet.

Payback's a bitch, isn't it?

End of another chapter people. Dedication to Valeriesparrow because we came up with the idea of Mason living in Puerto Rico... Comment, Vote, or go trip over an orange hose. It's your life, you can make your own decisions.

-R