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10 | Volleyball Notes

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My edit of bad bιtch Ari on le side or le top.

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[Chapter Status: Edited]

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10 | Volleyball Notes

[Ariana’s P.O.V.]

I slice my vegan lasagna roll into a halve with my shiny metal fork, glaring coldly at Frankie as he sits across from me at the dinner table.

He tries to avoid eye contact with me by looking into the concave of his metal spoon, licking strawberry ice cream off of his upper lip. 

I growl and he doesn't dare to match glares. 

I bang my fork down against the side of my plate, lividly screaming, “Mom!” I curl both of my fist, feeling the rage brew inside of me.

My mom shudders in her seat, her glass of red wine falling out of her weak grasp and spilling onto the floor. I can hear the glass shatter beneath us. My mom grunts. “What the hεll, Ari?”

I suck in my bottom lip, saying through gritted teeth, “Frankie announced to my whole entire dance class today that I'm a virgin!”

My mom’s jaw drops and she punctures a pair of evil, black eyes at him. “What?”

Frankie begins to giggle in his seat, his shoulders bouncing as she chuckles an excuse. “Mother, do your eyebrows ever stop being on damn fl―”

“Frankie, don’t try me!” my mother threatens.

Joan Grande, may I tell you, is one hεll of a badαss mother.

Don’t mess with her and that Italian spice.

She got Mario and Luigi on the line if you want to start frontin’.

Bang, bang, bιtch.

“Fine―yes, I said that,” he shamefully confesses, dropping his spoon.

“Why would you say that?” my mother yells, jumping out of her seat and staring down at him.

“It just slipped!” He leaps out of his seat.

Do they have springs under their αsses or something?

She blinks at him without saying a thing. She lowers her head down to the ground and rubs her temples. “Explain to me what exactly led to you slipping this out in the first place,” she sighs.

He nods. “Ariana was wearing yoga pants―”

My mom stops him and turns to look at me. “Since when do you wear yoga pants to school?” Her eyebrows furrow. “They allow that?”

I nod with my words. “That school has got a lot of problems,” I say.

Her face freezes and she then allows Frankie to continue. “―and we argued about her wearing them. And then when she left, one of the male students hit on her,” he continues, my eyes popping out.

Is he talking about Justin?

Nah, bιtch, he’s talking about Oprah.

Yeah, okay, me.

“Wait, Justin?” I question out loud, just for confirmation.

Frankie crinkles his nose, shrugging. “Yeah, Bieber.”