A Girl Named Sweetie

6. The Pushback

Jake's POV

"Hey, babe!" a girl squeals as she plops down onto my lap, causing a pained groan to escape my lips.

"Uh, hey..."

"Anna," she reminds me, her citrus perfume nearly choking me as she leans in for a kiss. The ends of her hair brush my cheek, rough from endless straightening; a small smile that I've assumed to be an attempt at seductiveness crosses her face, causing her to look sad and a bit constipated.

"Right. Anna. See you around," I make an attempt at pushing her off of me, only to have her death grip around my neck tighten even more.

I don't even like her that much, but her house was close by, and following what happened with Sweetie last night, I needed something to get my mind off of it.

My father was supposed to be working. He was never supposed to be home, especially not while Sweetie was there. We were gonna get that stupid fucking project done, and she would leave before getting terrorized by him.

Not to mention, I was a complete dick about her dad. It's not like I care about her, because I don't. But I've made her cry twice, and both times broke my heart, and thus came the sex.

"So, baby, what are we doing today?" she purrs into my ear, scooting up further onto my lap than I deem necessary.

I throw a glance at Doug, who stifles a laugh.

"Uh, I'll be with Doug. Sorry," I respond, making yet another attempt to push her off.

"Actually, I don't think we have plans," he grins, enjoying this more than he should.

She looks at me expectantly.

"Look, Annie—"

"Anna," she interjects.

"Anna. I'm not all that interested, so would you politely fuck off?" I respond, raising an eyebrow as her bottom lip starts to quiver.

"My friends were right about you," she sobs, giving me a shove as she slides off of my lap and stomps our of the cafeteria.

That was actually quite easy.

•••

"What's up, son?" my father drunkenly sneers as soon as I open the door.

"Go back to the bottle, John. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

An empty beer bottle smashes on the wall next to my head as I slip off my shoes and start towards my room.

"Whatever. You'll miss me," he mumbles.

Like fuck I will.

Wait, why would I miss him?

"I'm leaving. Three weeks, motherfucker," he slurs, followed my a hiccup as he falls off the dusty couch. As he pushes himself up, he catches a glimpse of my mother's photo, and grumbles something incoherent.

"I'm going to Russia," he slurs, "to-fucking-morrow."

I shake my head. He's just drunk.

"Right. Do me a favor, try to pass out on the couch rather than in the kitchen."

•••

Maybe we can work on the project tomorrow, the text on my screen reads. I suppress the urge to throw my phone at the fucking wall.

Tomorrow doesn't work. Sorry, I respond

The ellipses pop up, and I think for a second she'll give up and just do the project on her own.

Okay! The day after, then :)

I laugh dryly, then begin to type something before deleting it immediately after.

This project is gonna take forever.

•••

[A/N: Please don't kill me I know this chapter is terrible, I just need a filler to set up some ~drama~ in the next chapter ;) get ready folks. On a better note, thank you all for reading! I'll get that next chapter up by Sunday at the very latest, but I should have it done by Friday. Please don't stop reading I swear it'll get better ok bye love you!]