PROM QUEEN:
LONGING FOR YOU.
IT WAS EARLY SATURDAY MORNING when Annabelle woke from her slumber to a collection of shouts reverberating from the walls in a room downstairs. Three voices overlapped one another, incapable of being pinned to a single person, especially for the groggy girl who couldn't determine fantasy from reality at the moment.
Irritated was one word to describe how she felt about getting pulled away from the dream that had hypnotized her for the past nine hours—the most appropriate would be furious. She allowed that emotion to power her as she shoved the comforter off of her body, growing impatient when the end of it got tangled with her legs.
The current time was unknown to her, but judging by how intensely the sunlight bled through the curtains and into her bedroom made it obvious that it was still early morning. While she had a compromise at the banquet hall in two hours where discussions revolving around the upcoming debutante would take place, she planned to skip it and the event altogether, hence why she was wroth at the sudden disturbance in her sleep.
She briefly caught a glimpse at her phone screen when she finally managed to pull herself up from her bed, unable to focus her vision well enough to distinguish whether she had seen an eight or a nine on the screen. Whatever it was didn't take away from the fact that it was much earlier than the time she originally planned on waking up at.
It took all the energy in Annabelle's body for her to get herself to the bathroom where she did her usual morning routine, the shouting only diminishing slightly when she was spitting out the foamy toothpaste from her mouth after having brushed her teeth. Once she stepped away from the sink, it was louder than ever, the house feeling as if it was going to fall to pieces from the destruction occurring inside of it.
A sigh fell from Annabelle's lips, her hand reaching for her head where she ran it through the damp strands. She stood in place for a moment, debating on whether it'd be the best idea to find out what all the commotion was about.
Being her typical noisy self, she quickly decided to head downstairs. She slipped her feet into her slippers, pulling the door open before making her way down the hallway and down the stairs, the ruckus growing louder the closer she got to the room it was occurring in.
It was instantly made known to her that the shouting was coming from the kitchen. Every second she inched closer to the location, the voices became more and more familiar until she finally recognized one as her mother and the other as—no, it couldn't be . . . could it?
Annabelle recognized the voice all too well, the gentleness of it engraved in the back of her mind from ages ago when her head was rested against a pillow, her body tucked away beneath whatever girly comforter she had at the time, and the feeling of being loved embracing her. The memory of all the bedtime stories made her reminisce about the past, something that she didn't do frequently when it came to her childhood. She thought it'd be a few more years until it flowed through her ears again, but for once, she was relieved to be wrong.
Low and behold it was her aunt Sandy standing in the kitchen across from Sandra;
Sebastian stood away from the woman in fear that his face would be the second to be clawed at if the ongoing argument were to get physical.
Her blonde hair was just as she remembered it, reminding Annabelle of the one attached to her Barbie's head. Her face was just as—if not more juvenile than ever, her skin glowing like the sun on a hot summer day, her usual velvet Dior lipstick lined to perfection around her lips, with her perfectly arched brows sharper than ever as she stared down Sandra Monroe. She'd always been quite the enigma, so it was unknown whether she was preparing to continue the argument with a few more harsh comments or if she was going to unclip the small hoops looped in her ears to take a swing at her sister-in-law.
It was neither.
Before Sandy could process Sandra's past comments, her chocolate-colored eyes glimmered with joy at the figure approaching them. She opened her arms out towards the girl, taking a few steps forward. "Belle! Oh, come here, my sweet girl!"
As if it was a natural instinct, Annabelle felt her body move forward until a set of arms were wrapped around her, the tight knots scattered all around her body that she didn't even know existed coming undone in the homely space that was her dear aunt who she longed to reunite with. She had always felt safe from the wicked world whenever in her presence, but this embrace after all this time felt like coming home from war, the battle scars and their stories momentarily disappearing, the trauma diminishing. Joy wasn't something she was accustomed to, so whenever it came around, Annabelle didn't let go of it until it incised her palms in order to be free again.
"Aunt Sandy?" Annabelle mumbled, disbelief coating her tone. Disappointment, now that was something consistent in her life, so her brain couldn't process that the moment was in fact reality and not a figment of her imagination.
Sandy hummed, pulling away in order to take a step back, fully taking notice of how tall Annabelle had gotten since she'd last seen her. If she wasn't set on being a vindictive bitch at the moment, she might've shed a tear at the mature teenager standing in front of her. "I missed you, kid." She grinned from ear to ear.
"Annabelle, go upstairs," Sandra ordered, not once prying her burning stare away from the blonde woman standing beside her daughter. She'd always despised how close the two were, mostly because she hated the younger Monroe with an unexplainable passion.
"I think she's mature enough—" Sandy began to voice her unwanted opinion, aware that she was only adding fuel to the fire that was rapidly spreading with every passing moment, but destruction was her specialty.
"Why don't you do us all a favor and get the hell out of my house, Cassandra!" Sandra spat, slamming her hands down on the counter, the impact causing her palms to turn red from the blood that had risen.
Sandy recoiled at the use of her full name. She'd despised it since she was a child getting scolded by her parents and even more when her brother began dating someone who was one syllable away from sharing the same name as her. "I'm sorry, Sandra, am I not allowed to visit my sweet niece and my dear old brother? Last I checked, he was my family before he became your husband—which, by the way, was the worst decision he could've made." She earnestly expressed the disdain she'd felt towards Sandra since the day they met at a family dinner that the Monroe family had hosted.
Sandra had to take a quick breather, the pulse in her temples quickening every time she did so much as catch a glimpse of the blonde hair attached to the woman's head. If she were still in high school, she would've gladly yanked those golden locks right off, but the opportunity to do that passed with the years so she held back. "You've got some nerve. Showing up to my house, unannounced might I add, despite me making it perfectly clear that you weren't welcome here anymore." She could only manage to shake her head, her eyes narrowed in her direction with red circulating the cracks between her irises.
The loudest chuckle left Sandy's lips, her tongue repeatedly clicking against the roof of her mouth until she landed back at the edge of the counter opposite where Sandra was standing. "Here as of in the Outer Banks? Sorry to burst whatever bubble you're trapped inside of, but don't own the damn island, doll face." She laughed in amusement, her hand sliding across the flat surface of the island with her eyes carefully eyeing the small movement. "This piece of shit island that you do own doesn't have your lousy name on it so why the hell do you think the Outer Banks as a whole does?"
"Get her out of my house." Sandra turned towards her husband who had chosen to stray away from the argument for the past few minutes after his sister had threatened him when he tried to put out the fire with his own opinions. "And, Annabelle, for the love of god, go upstairs." She added, not forgetting that the sixteen-year-old was watching this play out like a movie.
"No." Annabelle shook her head, disobeying the order. She didn't fail to notice Sandra's brow arch up, unable to process that the girl had defied the command. "You signed me up for something I told you I didn't want to participate in and then you left with Athena to avoid talking to me about it like you should've done in the first place, and I think that was the shadiest decision you could've made."
Sebastian, who had no idea what his daughter was talking about decided to attempt to escort his younger sister out of the kitchen while the mother-daughter duo had an argument of their own, struggling to get a single hand on Sandy's forearm as she resisted.
"All of the women on your father's side of the family have participated in debutantes." Sandra waved her off, not seeing why Annabelle was making a huge deal about it.
"Not aunt Sandy," Annabelle argued.
Sandra mockingly laughed. "Please, she's not a woman, she's a child who lacks basic human manners."
Just when Sandy was about to comply with the order to get out of the estate, she snapped her head to the side at the comment that had been directed at her. "I'll have you know that any ounce of class the Monroes once had was tarnished the second you married into this family!" She spat, anger taking over as she attempted to swat Sebastian's hand away from her. "Will you let go of me!"
"Okay, enough!" Sebastian shouted, his head spinning from the insanity occurring around him. He was accustomed to the bickering between Sandra and Annabelle but with his sister involved, it made it ten times worse—intolerable, actually. "The both of you are acting like children and I have work to get done in Chapel Hill, so resolve your issues on your own or seek a counseling session." He shook his head at the madness, his patience wearing off as he turned to look at his daughter. "Annabelle, you're old enough to make your own decisions, so if you don't want to be a debutante, then don't, but just know that your grandmother would appreciate it if you participated."
"She's raci—"
"Do or don't, Annabelle. I don't care." Sebastian firmly spoke, giving the three a dismissive nod before walking out of the kitchen.
"Sebastian!" Sandra called, going ignored by her husband who nearly sprinted out of the home to get far from there.
The sound of the engine roaring to life became the only source of sound capable of keeping the three sane while they attempted to process the event that had just occurred. It was that until the car was heard driving away from the home, fading with every passing second until it was gone.
Annabelle looked over at Sandra and then at Sandy, noticing that they had commenced a staring contest. She furrowed her brows at the showdown, unaware that their disliking for one another was this intense. It's uncomfortable being stuck in the middle, a collection of goosebumps forming on her skin at the tension.
"I don't want to dress as a child bride for your own satisfaction." She was the first to break the silence, incapable of remaining sane in that type of atmosphere.
"It's a coming-out party, Annabelle, not your wedding." Sandra sighed, heading out of the kitchen to make her way outside to get much-needed fresh air.
"Do you even know the history behind these types of things? Like at all?" Annabelle scoffed, following closely behind her as she neared the French doors that led to the backyard. She went ignored, forcing her to provide an answer despite the lack of response to the question. "Debutantes were exclusionary, aka racist, and you expect me to brush that aside and get all dolled up? It's complete bullshit, mom."
Sandra stopped dead in her tracks, her hand on the door handle with her mind attempting to process the newly forbidden word that had just been uttered. After the confrontation in the locker room at the Island Inn, she was sure she'd never be addressed by that title again by Annabelle, but she was wrong and she felt a strange sense of relief. It didn't last long, though, because she didn't allow herself to drown in that feeling. Instead, she proceeded to make her way outside, needing that air now more than ever.
Annabelle followed closely behind her, annoyed that she was going ignored. "I'm not doing this, okay? Especially not with Xavier as my escort." She twisted her face in disgust, the simple thought of the boy making her physically ill. "Plus, when you mentioned me participating in this, you clearly stated that it wouldn't be till the fall."
"I think you should."
They both jumped at the voice, unaware that Sandy had followed them outside.
"What?" They questioned in unison, equally as shocked that those words had just come out of Sandy Monroe's mouth.
Sandy nodded with a bright smile. "Yeah, I think it'd be fun, kid. Your participation goes to show the evolution of these types of things." She attempted to see the bright side of things, unsure if she could persuade the girl to get all glammed up to perform a waltz in front of hundreds of pretentious families. "I think with the partner of your choice, you'd have fun." She emphasized, looking over at Sandra to make sure she'd heard a particular part.
Annabelle momentarily got lost in her own thoughts, beginning to consider Sandy's perspective. Maybe it wouldn't be that awful if she were given control over who she'd be walking beside the night of the debutante. There was a time when she dreamt of being a debutante—before she learned the ancient significance of them, that is. She fantasized about the day when she'd be surrounded by racks of white dresses, shiny tiaras, and the most luxurious heels she could possess. It was sort of like getting a taste of what her wedding day would look like.
"The Danvers boy already agreed to be her escort and it'd be rude to tell him otherwise." Sandra protested against the idea of allowing Annabelle to pick a different escort. Though it technically wasn't too late to make the minuscule change, she wasn't going to allow it unless it was another individual who had the title of a future legacy inscribed in their name.
"Alright, how 'bout we stop focusing on the most irrelevant part of the fraction and focus on you instead, alright?" Sandy suggested, placing her hands on Annabelle's shoulders with a wide grin on her face. "I think you'd make a beautiful debutante, but at the end of the day, it's your decision. I chose not to be a part of one, so it's understandable if you choose to make the same decision."
Sandra glanced at the two, evidently jealous of the bond the two shared. It was her own fault that she and Annabelle didn't share a connection and ever since that awful night that would permanently haunt the two, she'd felt regret. "How long until you're out of here, Cassandra?" She quirked a brow up at the woman.
"So eager to get rid of me already?" Sandy let out a humorous laugh at the question, incapable of detecting the specific tone that Sandra was using.
Ignoring Sandy was easier than remembering to breathe, so the pesky little sound that was her voice practically went unheard by her. "I have consults and surgeries lined up these upcoming weeks, so I won't have the time to accompany you to Chapel Hill to buy everything you need for the ball." She explained, swallowing her pride and motioning towards the blonde who stood too close to the curve of her personal bubble. "And . . . well, your aunt Cassandra clearly has nothing better to do, and being the annoying critter she is, she likely won't be leaving anytime soon, so she can help you pick out a dress and everything else you'll require."
Gasping, Sandy placed her hand over her chest, feigning offense though she was used to these insults. "If you wouldn't have been so tempted to take a swing at me earlier, you would know that I have a flight to get back home on Wednesday morning." She lifted her tongue to the top row of her teeth, pensively looking over at Annabelle who hadn't rejoined the conversation. "But I can postpone and leave next week instead. So, it's up to you, hun, you wanna do this?"
Annabelle already had her answer prepared, she had known what it was for a long time now but the way Sandra went about it had discouraged her . . . at first. "Okay, I'll do it." She spoke up, darting her eyes over to her mother. "But I will not let you use this as an opportunity to boost your social status. I don't want a single picture being sold to any sort of press, including underground magazines."
Sandra nodded in agreement. "Fine, but the dress has to be appropriate. I don't need you looking like Madonna at the 1984 VMAs performance of Like a Virgin."
"Okay." Annabelle agreed with a blank expression, only mildly satisfied with the outcome of the short discussion. "I guess I should go get ready so that I can head to the banquet hall."
"I guess you should." Sandra nodded dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest and directing her focus over to Sandy who was preparing to say something to Annabelle. "Oh, and Cassandra, I've heard the Island Inn has spectacular service, you should definitely check it out."
Sandy gave her an insincere smile in return, not saying much until Sandra disappeared back into the home. She waited until she was nearly out of earshot before scoffing. "What a bitch."
Annabelle smiled, finally processing that one of her favorite people was really standing in front of her. Even if it was only for a short period, she felt like Christmas had come early. "I missed you." She stated the obvious.
"And I missed you." Sandy's nose scrunched up when she widely smiled, extending her arm out towards Annabelle to place it around her shoulder. "Now, tell me, this Island Inn your mother's on about, is it still owned by the Rockefellers?"
"The who?" Annabelle gave her a puzzled look, the family name unknown to her.
"Great, that's all I needed to know." Relief washed over her face, her previous concern vanishing. "What do ya say we grab a bite to eat at the restaurant once you get back? For old time's sake!"
Annabelle groaned, shaking her head. "I can't."
"Can't? What, you're too cool to hang with your aunt Sandy now?" Sandy cracked a smile to assure Annabelle that she wasn't being serious.
"No, I can't join you, but I can serve you."
"What?"
"I have to cover my shift this afternoon." Annabelle briefly explained, pulling away from the loose hold Sandy had on her shoulder.
"Your shift? You got yourself a job at the Inn?" Sandy furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Had to. Mom cut me off because of some stupid stuff I did." Annabelle rolled her eyes, the day permanently engraved in her mind. What made her regret her actions, even more, was the fact that it was Genevieve who had purchased the molly from some low life from The Cut. Stupid Genevieve!
"What stupid stuff?" Sandy questioned, knowing that it had to be pretty bad for Sandra to go as far as prohibiting her from accessing her bank accounts.
"Uh, nothing too worrisome. Just dumb teenager stuff." Annabelle shrugged her shoulders, making her way into the home with Sandy close behind her.
"Dumb teenager stuff?" Sandy looked at her suspiciously.
"Yeah, nothing serious." Annabelle wasn't necessarily lying seeing that she never saw the big deal in the situation that had landed her in the principal's office. "Look, I would really love to catch up—"
"Right, right! Go and get yourself all dolled up!" Sandy quickly remembered that the girl had places to be and she was distracting her from getting back upstairs. "I'll stop by the restaurant later today if that's fine with you. There's something I want to ask you."
With a crinkled smile, Annabelle nodded. "Of course."
｡･:*:ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹
JUST AS ANNABELLE HAD EXPECTED, the preparation for a debutante was bound to be absolute hell. Not in an exaggerating way either, more like hot lava pressed to the skin, burning into the tissue in a hauntingly slow manner type of way.
She knew that there were plentiful snobs on the island, but to be in the same room as them for the next few weeks was something she couldn't see herself putting up with. The thought of sitting through brunch with them next week was enough to make her skin crawl, especially because her newest frenemy would likely be seated somewhere too close to her liking.
Fortunately, she had learned that she wouldn't be suffering alone. Janet would be enduring the hell that was a debutante ball alongside her.
"The dance coordinator, she was a little—" Janet began to express her disliking towards the woman they'd met just over an hour ago, her voice snapping Annabelle from her thoughts.
"Racist?" Annabelle scoffed in distaste at the middle-aged woman's lack of concealment towards her obvious favoritism of the girls who fit the mold for primitive debutantes. "Yeah, I got that vibe from her too."
"Very much so. I can't believe we have to obey her orders for the next few weeks." Janet rolled her eyes, reaching her hand out towards the glass door to hold it open for Annabelle before she herself stepped into the busy restaurant.
"It's total bullshit." Annabelle agreed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while her eyes wandered every perimeter of the restaurant, searching for a blonde speck of hair resting on her aunt's head. Though she didn't spot the long-haired beauty, she did notice another person with the same colored hair wiping down a table.
She hadn't seen him since he snuck out of her bedroom before she could give him the ice to apply to his wounds. She wasn't mad about it or anything, more confused than anything, actually. It may have just been one-sided, but she liked to believe that they were comfortable enough with each other to be in one another's presence at their lowest.
"Oh, by the way, there's a kegger going down at the boneyard later. We should check it out once you get out of here." Janet insisted.
"A bunch of tourists getting ready to leave the island because spring break is ending mixed with intoxicated kooks and pogues? Yeah, that sounds like a splendid time." Annabelle sarcastically said, her obvious disliking for the beach get-together peeking through. She'd never been the biggest fan of keggers, mostly because she hated the bitter taste of beer, but also because of the one that had ended with her having to be held back by Genevieve after someone intentionally spilled beer in her hair.
"It's all about perspective, Anna. You see drama and I see hot tourists." Janet wiggled her brows, her intentions for that night clearer than glass.
Annabelle chuckled, shaking her head. "The last time you hooked up with a tourist, you wouldn't stop talking about her for weeks."
"Uh, maybe because, unlike any other person on this island, she actually took the time to get to know me before we hooked up." Janet playfully scoffed, her infatuation for the ginger-haired girl she'd met at a kegger that past summer peeking through. "It felt like after an eternity in hell, I'd finally met the person I was destined to be with, and just as I'm salivating the feeling I've craved my entire life . . . poof! Gone!"
"Life has a tendency to be an absolute cunt." Annabelle squeezed Janet's shoulder in a comforting manner, giving her a small smile. "Look, I'm off at six. If it's that important to you, we can go to that kegger."
"You perceive yourself as a heartless soul, but you cannot hide how much you really adore me." Janet grinned, wrapping her arms around Annabelle's body which appeared to catch the raven-haired girl off guard.
Annabelle stumbled back, a grunt leaving her lips at the wind getting knocked out of her. She did end up giving into the hug, confused at why the Wilson girl was being so affectionate out of the blue. "I actually find you despicable and that top you're wearing does not go with your eyes." She jokingly scoffed, bringing her nail to her mouth to graze her teeth on it while she looked the girl up and down.
"My eyes go with every clothing article in my closet." Janet clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, chuckling afterward.
Annabelle parted her lips to say something, forced to keep quiet when the woman she'd been in search of stepped into the restaurant with her sunglasses still resting on the bridge of her nose. She gave her a small wave when Sandy looked in her direction, the gesture being sufficient for the blonde to spot her.
"There you are!" Sandy beamed, pulling the girl into a quick embrace before standing upright again to turn towards Janet. She lifted her sunglasses, eyes widened. "Whew, have you gotten tall, Miss Wilson!" She grinned at the sight of the girl she'd met as a child, her face still recognizable despite it having been years since she'd last seen the girl.
Stunned at the presence of the woman, Janet smacked Annabelle's upper arm, an offended gasp leaving the girl's mouth. "Are you kidding me, Anna? You failed to mention the fact that your freaking aunt Sandy was in town." She said, allowing Sandy to pull her into a short hug before she looked back at Annabelle who was dramatically rubbing her shoulder. "This freaking woman? A damn icon."
Annabelle rolled her eyes at the girl. "I was busy trying not to strangle the instructor."
At the same time, Sandy placed a heartfelt hand over her chest, pursing her lips. "Aren't you a doll, Janet? Isn't she the sweetest?!" She looked over at Annabelle.
"Yeah, when she's not manhandling me." Annabelle gently shoved Janet with her shoulder, the motion not being enough to push the girl to the side.
Janet straightened her posture, shaking her head. "Hey, I could've easily peeked my head into that shower and interrupted you and J—" She was quick to stop herself from finishing that sentence, a series of profanities echoing across her head.
Annabelle's eyes widened at the thought of Janet purposely taunting her that day in the bathroom. She still had nightmares about how awkward the situation had been and to find out that the Wilson girl likely found it humorous made her want to smack her across the face, not in a mean way, of course.
"J? Uh, who is this J fella we speak of?" Sandy curiously questioned, wiggling her eyebrows in her niece's direction. "Or is it a lady? Hmm?"
"Nope, I am not having this conversation right now or ever." Annabelle began to walk away from the two, only stopping in her tracks when her name was called.
"Wait, Belle, I wanted to talk to you about something important, remember?" Sandy tucked her hair behind her ears, stepping forward where she signaled towards a nearby booth.
Janet took that as her cue to leave, pointing a stern finger in Annabelle's direction as if to remind her of their agreement to attend the party at the boneyard later.
Annabelle hesitantly nodded in her direction before turning her full attention back to her aunt who had made herself comfortable in the booth. She quietly sighed, placing her bag on the seat before sliding in, a series of questions forming in her head.
Sandy sat there quietly, her arms stretched across the table to take Annabelle's hands into her own, the sudden action catching the girl off guard. She grinned at her, almost tearing up at the sight of the sixteen-year-old girl. The years they'd spent apart from each other had made it almost awkward to be together again, almost.
Annabelle was still confused, more now that Sandy had gotten sentimental. She awkwardly smiled, glancing over at the hall that led to the locker room and then back at Sandy. "Aunt Sandy, you're killing me here." She admitted.
Sandy chuckled, shaking her previous thoughts away before taking a deep breath. "Sorry, hun, I like to make every damn thing dramatic for the hell of it."
"Yeah, I get that. I definitely got that trait from you." Annabelle pressed her tongue to her cheek, laughing softly.
"Uh, you remember Augustus?"
Annabelle nodded. "Duh! Can I just say that you had amazing taste in men, aunt Sandy."
"Have, darling. I have amazing taste in men." Sandy clarified, pulling her hands away from Annabelle's to allow her to get a clear view of the diamond ring that had been slid onto her ring finger approximately two months ago. "You are lookin' at the future Mrs. FitzAlan."
Annabelle gasped at the sight of the blinding rock, the rich girl in her yearning for a gift as gorgeous as the one she was in awe of. "Holy shit! He proposed?!" She beamed, the sudden outburst between the two earning them several looks, but she could care less.
Sandy excitedly nodded. "Oh, Belle, it was the most beautiful proposal ever. I wish you would've been there to witness it yourself."
Annabelle pursed her lips, looking down at the surface of the table and sighing. "Yeah, me too."
"Well, your presence at the proposal doesn't matter now anyway because the reason I came here was to ask you to do me the biggest favor in the world and be my maid of honor." Sandy grinned from ear to ear, her anxiety peeking through the roof as she waited for a response.
Too stunned to speak, Annabelle's mouth gaped open, and her eyes widened. She had this idea in her head that Sandy would elope and not tell anyone about it until years later because that's the type of thrill that kept her excitement going. Never in a million years did she think that Cassandra Monroe would arrange her dream wedding and she certainly didn't expect to be asked to be her maid of honor.
"Under different circumstances, I'd say take all the time you need to decide whether you want to do it or not, but the date's set, so . . . " Sandy let out a humorous laugh, the soothing melody traveling into Annabelle's ears. "It's June 5th in The Bahamas. Augustus' folks own this beautiful place out there, so you could probably even spend your summer out there if you wanted to."
Though still overwhelmed, Annabelle slowly nodded her head. "Yeah, uh, okay." She slowly spoke, quickly realizing that her tone was making it sound like she didn't care when she did, so she changed it in a matter of seconds, smiling widely. "I mean, yes! Of course, I'll be your maid of honor, aunt Sandy, but are you sure you don't want someone else—"
"Are you kidding me, Belle?! I couldn't think of a more perfect fit." Sandy assured her, standing from her seat and motioning for Annabelle to do the same so that she could wrap her arms around her. "You gotta stop doubting yourself, my sweet girl."
She sighed into Sandy's shoulder, the words providing a sense of reassurance and comfort that she was in desperate need of. "The Bahamas, huh? Whatever happened to eat the rich?" She cracked the joke the second they pulled away from the embrace.
"Sometimes you gotta swallow your pride, kid." Sandy sucked in air through her teeth, half-joking. "Alright, now that this has been settled, I'll be getting out of your way because I just spotted a high school ex that I do not want to bump into." She quickly spoke, gathering her belongings to make a quick getaway.
Annabelle fought the urge to comment on how ridiculous she looked using her handbag to shield her face from whoever her mysterious ex was, simply giving her a nod. "Wait, so since you have a wedding to plan, does that mean you can't help me pick out a dress for the stupid debutante."
"I told you I'd change my flight to leave next week, didn't I?" Sandy reminded her.
"Yeah, but—"
"We can head to Chapel Hill after school on Monday, alright?"
Nodding again, Annabelle grabbed her own belongings to take to the locker room. "Okay."
"Alright, kid, I'll see ya later." Sandy began to walk away, a smirk forming on her face as she turned back around. "And this J that Janet was speaking of . . . sounds like someone pretty special for you to be in the shower together." She teasingly said, giving the girl a wink before making her way out of the restaurant.
Annabelle rolled her eyes at how amusing people seemed to find the J name topic, shaking it off immediately once she realized she was two minutes away from being late for work.
She made her way towards the hallway, halting the second she took a sharp turn. The corner of the bus bin poked at her side, the boy in possession of it only briefly glancing up at her before preparing to walk away from such an awkward interaction.
Taken back by his reaction, Annabelle loudly scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Really? Not even a hi? Hello? Maybe even a spoiled bitch?" She frowned, confused by him and this sudden change in his body language. It was almost as if he wanted to make it known he despised her.
JJ looked at her for a second and then back down at the dirty dishes in the tub. "I'm workin' here, Annabelle." His tone was cold, the message that he didn't want to speak to her clear.
Annabelle. He'd never used her full name, so it made her feel uneasy hearing it fall from his lips.
She sunk her teeth down into the flesh of her cheek, knitting her brows together at the hostility directed at her. Usually, she was the one being rude, not the other way around. "Am I like totally delusional or did I not just console you less than forty-eight hours ago?" She questioned. "Usually you're thanked for that, not dismissed like you're some sort of airhead."
He didn't say anything regarding the moment they'd shared. Instead, he stumbled back, avoiding eye contact with her at all costs. "Some of us gotta work to get bills paid, so . . ." He trailed off.
Annabelle narrowed her eyes at him, her temper on the edge. "Right, and I can't grasp the concept of that." She dryly chuckled, unable to believe what a douche he was being. When he didn't respond, she shook her head, deciding the conversation wasn't worth continuing. "Whatever. I should've known you'd be an ungrateful piece of shit." She coldly said, bumping her shoulder against his as she walked past him to get to her location.
JJ watched her walk away, squeezing his eyes shut in order to fight the urge to go after her. He needed to distance himself from her; that had been made crystal clear after the long talk he had with John B the previous day. It would be impossible to confirm what had been suggested if he just stayed away.
No freaking way could he be falling for Annabelle Monroe.
No way.
authors note:
It's happening!! 👀