It's Only Forever

Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Maeve

I woke up that morning, as usual, feeling like I hadn't slept at all.

"Sleeping beauty..." Ellie's chipper voice sounded from the desk.

"Morning..." I managed to grumble.

"Look I've been thinking," Ellie began and instantly I interrupted her.

"That's never a good sign," I scoffed.

"Shut up...look, I think you should hold off on this whole abortion thing." I stopped in my tracks, closing the lid of my water bottle as I turned my gaze back to her.

"What?"

"You're being so rash about this, you've only thought about it for a few days, at least give it a week," She pleaded.

"No. Ellie. It's all just been this big mistake and I want to forget about it as soon as possible," I stated firmly; there was a good few minutes of awkward silence before she spoke again.

"Are you sure you aren't...you know, letting your bitterness over Samson Wyatt cloud your judgment?" Ellie asked quietly, and immediately I was utterly furious.

"Don't say his name like that," I shook my head and ran a hand back through my knotted hair.

Ellie frowned, "Like what?"

"Like he's some sort of celestial being, he's just a guy," I grunted, almost as if I were trying to convince myself.

Ellie merely rolled her eyes, "Maeve, he's Samson fucking Wyatt. In the eyes of women all over the world, he is a celestial being. Superstar actor, heartthrob, Hollywood bad boy...you get the gist."

I shook my head, trying to change the subject. "And what bitterness?"
"Don't be offended, I just mean that you seemed to kind of like him. You aren't really the no strings attached kind of girl and he didn't even give you his phone number...or ask for yours. You have to be a little bitter about that."

"No. I'm not." I grabbed my jeans and a shirt from my wardrobe and quickly pulled them on before throwing my hair into a pony tail.

"Come on...Maeve. Don't be so delicate..."

"Delicate? Can you not for once just let me make a mistake if I'm guna make one? You're just like everyone else...you call me baby girl, you treat me like some innocent school girl. I'm 21 years old. This is my choice, stop acting like you seriously care. If you cared so much, you'd have let me grieve in peace as opposed to dragging me to LA in the first place. So if you'll excuse me, I have to go be bitter." With that I slammed the door closed and walked hastily down the hallway, down the stairs and into the cool New York air.

It was a ten-minute walk to the clinic, and the appointment wasn't for another two hours. But there was no way in hell I would be making my way back to the dorm anytime soon, I had roughly about ten dollars in my pocket.

I made my way into the nearest star bucks and ordered a coffee to go, I decided to walk around the block a little to clear my head.

I rounded the corner, to hear a load of shouting and screaming. I took a sip from my coffee, the taste quickly reminding me that I wasn't actually meant to be drinking coffee. I jogged over to the bin and spat the mouthful of coffee out.

"Eurgh...hate my life," I mumbled, just as I was about to throw the coffee in the trash I was shoved over; my hot coffee pouring completely down my sweater.