04

224 13 43
                                    

the lunchroom epidemic had kicked in, and everyone was either screeching in laughter or gossiping in hushed tones. i didn't wanna deal with the bullshit of being a "floater" , so i quickly turned away. i'd just eat out somewhere. or not eat at all. whichever's easier.

just as i turned around, a warm, coarse hand clamped around my wrist. i didn't want to turn around. i already knew who it is.

"marie," my name always sounded better when it came out of his mouth. i didn't want to look weak, so i dared to stare directly in his eyes. bad choice. they're so brown. it's like coffee stains, but sweeter. i start to remember the last time he looked at me with kisses in his eyes, and hickies for eyelashes. really bad choice.

"we're going out to eat. wanna join?"

blood rushed to my head. i started to feel dizzy.

"nah, i'm good. my mom made some killer sandwiches and i promised i'd actually eat it. sorry kale." i plastered a smirk onto my lips, and it felt more fake than the gold chain he wore around his wrist.

"can't you just take it with you?"  kaleb pleaded, eyebrows furrowing in a way that almost reminded me of when a puppy whines. almost. i promised myself to not associate him with things i liked. i used to associate strawberries with him, and now i can't eat them. it makes me think of how the juice would drip down my chin and stain my fingertips pink, and he would kiss it off.

"nah, i also got some homework for history to finish. i'm not bouta fail, and it's my next period." this was the most words i'd said to him in a while.

"rip. next time, though. right?"

i shrugged, "if i have time."

he grinned, "see you tomorrow then." he started off, twirling his keys around his index finger.

i scoffed, and closed my eyes in hopes that his god damn smile wouldn't replay. when it did i remembered what i told myself about getting my hopes high, and sighed; my hand rushed up to my scalp to tug at the disobedient hairs that had curled upwards.

"not eating it is, then."

whatever, it's not like i'd have the appetite to eat

☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹

showers are a good place to hide. it's a good excuse because you can't hear the phone ringing outside, or listen to the four voicemails.

you can't see yourself from someone else's eyes and that's probably the best part.

stepping in when the shower was lukewarm was the second most disappointing thing i'd known, and i despised every second of it. so i stood in it, feeling the goosebumps ride over my skin as i craned my head upwards to the ceiling. i kept on staring until my body finally adjusted and the water felt warm enough.

i wish my mind could adjust this quickly to the world.

i started to remember his hand around my wrist, so i started scrubbing. i knew i should probably stop when my flesh opened to reveal tinges of red blood and pink insides, but i had to get his fingertips off me.

off my memory, off my wrist.

so i continued scrubbing until my hand started to ache and tingle.

the tingles reminded me of him, so i decided showers are only good for hiding from other people.

ring pops and cigsWhere stories live. Discover now