Ferrari (2) DRAFT

32

This is it, guys.... the last chapter. 

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"No, Lucy, I can't just leave," he groans.

I tug my wrist free, and empty a drawer of my dresser, stuffing the assorted clothes into the bag.

"If you don't come, I'm going alone," I say.

"Neither of us are going anywhere."

"I'm leaving," I urge. "I don't care what you say."

"You're going to leave me?" he asks. "And your brother? And your parents? And all your friends?"

"I can't deal with any of this, Oliver. I can't."

"Yes you can, Lucy! Everythings going to work out."

"No, it's not, Oliver!" I yell. "Don't you see? You and Liam and Mary and Aretta and Alex and Kal! You've all got your shit sorted. You know what you want to do! And what am I doing? Shit all! Working in a fucking café, with no goals! Nothing!"

"Lucy, come on, why haven't we spoken about this before? You're studying and you like it right?"

"No, Oliver," I grumble. "I'm barely passing."

"What? You're so smart..."

"Yeah," I scoff. "Smart enough to fall in love with a rich man so at least my future is secure."

"Lucy," he groans. "Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner? We need to talk about these things."

"No," I shake my head. "I barely acknowledge them myself. If I do... If I think about how pathetic I am, all I do is cry. All I fucking do is cry! And what am I doing to change it? Nothing!"

I toss my wallet into the bag, and zip it up. I dodge the angry man before me, and head down the stairs.

"Lucy, please!"

I grab my keys off the hallway table, and yank the door open. The suns coming up already.

"What are you going to do, huh?" Oliver asks.

"I'm going to drive the fuck away from here."

"And when you run out of petrol? You're going to buy more until you run out of money? And then what?"

"I'll get a shitty job, and figure it out!"

"Lucy, come on!"

I ignore him, and slide into my car. But before I can shut the door, Oliver's hand stops it.

"Please..." he begs.

I have to force myself not to look in his eyes. I can't. I can't. I need to leave.

"Listen, Oliver," I say. "I love you so fucking much, okay? And I don't know when I'll be back, but I promise you, I love you, and I'll probably never stop."

He runs his hand through his hair, and I take the opportunity to slam the door shut. I start the engine. He knocks on the window. And finally, I look up at him, and see the hurt in his eyes. I swallow, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

"I love you, baby," he says.

"I love you," I respond.

And just like that, I drive away.