Living With The Bad Boy [COMPLETE][VERSION ONE]

Chapter 13

Jase gives me a subtle eyebrow raise and I want to punch him.

Chrissa looks up finally, and her expression is benign enough that I'm able to relax. "Pancakes. But can you make them vegan? And sugar free? I'm on a new diet." She turns to her friends and Jase, wrapping an arm around him and twirling a piece of her hair. "Gotta stay in shape for my man, ya know."

I take this as my cue to leave and slip away from them, grabbing plates from other tables and placing them on my table. As I walk back to the kitchen, I pass Jase and Chrissa's table...

And see the foot in front of me a second too late.

"Oops," I hear Chrissa say from behind me as I and the 3000 things I'm carrying crash to the ground. I land on my elbow and the side of my head, a sharp pain going through my skull, but that's not what I'm worried about. Three of the plates and a coffee mug broke, spilling white porcelain all over the floor, like tiny fragments of pearls. For a second, they almost look beautiful. But then I realize just where I am. I force myself to look back up, ignoring the dizzying pain in my temples. "I'm so sorry," I say through gritted teeth. Chrissa stares back at me and my blood runs cold. Because, judging by her gaze, Chrissa knows exactly who I am and what I saw.

And if punishing me is what it takes for me to be silent about it, that's what Chrissa will do.

"Chrissa!" Jase says in a hushed but angry whisper. "Don't you think that was maybe a little much?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. That was all an accident. Right?" She looks at me when she says that. My head pounds and colors swirl in my vision as I nod. "Totally my fault. So sorry." I turn away, my cheeks burning as I try to fight back tears, piling the plates back up onto the tray, leaving the broken shards. I guess I'll clean them up later.

"Did you see her?" Chrissa asks as I walk away. There's laughter in her voice. Laughter at me. "She was totally about to cry. God, spending all this time around Dumpster Girl here, I shouldn't even need to do charity! Did you see her shoes? Who the hell wears Converse to work? It's not a look."

Everyone laughs at this. Including Jase. His laugh isn't something I thought I knew, but I can hear it, deep and smooth like honey in the midst of everyone's chuckles. I didn't realize it would hurt this much to hear him make fun of me like this. My eyes sting with tears as I get back to the kitchen and I can't even bring myself to make eye contact with the dishwasher before turning towards the wall and letting the tears fall down my face. I don't encourage any more, though. Sometimes, I just need to cry, to get everything out, but today is not that time. I don't want to give Jase and Chrissa another reason to make fun of me.

I'm dreading my return to the table, but actually bringing the food out turns out to be the most okay-ish part of their visit. All Chrissa does is complain about the 'slow service' and tell me her pancakes aren't hot enough. I'm actually starting to relax a little as I walk out to collect the check from them. And I see how absolutely trashed their table is. A glass is cracked and water spills all over the 9000 napkins that have been taken out of the napkin holder and crumpled up. A plate of pancakes is upturned, leaving pancakes and sticky syrup... everywhere. Coffee is leaking onto the ground.

Oh god. Well, at least they're rich. I'm sure they tipped well.

Chrissa stands up, putting on her coat and thumbing through her brown leather purse. A single bobby pin falls out onto the floor. "Could you pick that up for me?" She asks, her tone like sugar. I should've known better than to trust that voice, but instead I bend down, pick up the bobby pin... and feel something sticky and wet in my hair. And laughter. A hell of a lot of laughter. I move out of the way, my vision blurring with tears as I touch my hair. Is that... syrup?

Sure enough, when I look up, there's Chrissa fucking Thompson above me, holding a jar of syrup and looking immensely pleased with herself.

"Chrissa!" I don't want to look at Jase; I can't. Tears start falling down my face faster than i can control. 'What are you doing? You can't just treat someone like this, I mean... what if she tells someone? This is harassment!"

Chrissa rolls her eyes, bending down to me and lifting my chin up. I want to spit on her, to bite and claw and scream the very words that she is trying so hard to stifle inside of me. "She won't tell. Right, honey? Because if you tell anyone what happened, I guess I'm just going to have to tell them something much, much worse about you."

This might pass for a warning to the others, but I know what it really is: a threat. If I reveal Chrissa cheating on Jase, there'll be hell to pay. And honestly, who would even believe me in the first place?

I nod numbly and stand up, shaking. This might be the most humiliating moment of my life. Honestly. Trying to find something else to do, I grab the bill as they zip up their coats, counting through the money. But... hang on, wait a minute. "You guys are twenty-seven dollars short," I say softly.

Chrissa rolls her eyes, walking out of the booth and taking Tyler, Cody and Janine with her. "That's your tip, bitch."

Jase just stands there looking like he wants to be anywhere else than here. His mouth is opened, but no words are coming out, like he's not sure if he should say something or leave. He's frozen.

"Just go," I say, turning away and wiping a tear away from my cheek. "Please just go."

When I finally turn around, he and all the others are gone.

I've washed my hair out in the freezing bathroom sink so many times I think my hands are going to break off, and still the maple syrup lingers. I have to tie my (now-soaked) hair up into a bun as I put the bag of frozen peas back in the freezer and throw my syrup-covered apron into the trash. I can get another one, and I'd rather do that then try to get these stains out.

This was the worst day ever.

And then I feel bad for thinking that, because, really, nothing can or should ever really be the worst day ever anymore. Not after the day my dad died. It's funny. After all these years, after all these other memories of him have faded, like the exact Norah Jones song he loved to play while cooking in the kitchen, the sound of his voice, this one stayed. The worst one. My head slamming against the glass on the side of the door, my arm, which had been resting there, the only thing that saved me. The cry of pain as my father's head hit the steering wheel. He turned the car's lights on. I remember being wheeled out on a stretcher and seeing that, our brights on in the middle of the day. It made me want to laugh.

I remember holding my mom's hand as we put the memories of my father in a box and buried it. I remember how our tears seemed to scorch the earth around him. My father lived joy and happiness. Crying at his death just felt so... wrong.

I'm yanked out of my depressing walk down memory lane by a text alert ping. It's Jase:

I assume you'll find your own ride home tonight. 

A/N: Hi guys! I hope everyone is having a good week and honestly, thank you so so much for sticking with LWTBB. I know I don't have a lot of viewers yet haha, but I just wanted to say that I appreciate each and every one of you veryyy much :) also this was SUCH A HARD CHAPTER FOR ME TO WRITE and probably a bit depressing to read. This is all necessary character development and dRamA, but I promise you that things will start- actually, you know what, I'm not going to spoil it for you. Just please stick with the story & just know that I have a plan! <3