We're together.
What do you call two people who can't breathe when they're apart? Two people who instantly grow colder when they're separated? Two people who can't keep their hands to themselves when they're finally reunited?
Fuck buddies?
I don't think so. At least I hope not. Lip is more to me than that and I'm more than that to him. I know it. It's in the way he holds my hand. It's in the way he kisses the side of my mouth. It's in the way he looks at me with low lids. It's in the way he breathes my air. It's in the way he is my air.
It's in the way we are.
We're more to each other than people could ever understand.
We're us. And I reek pity for anyone who tries to take that away from us.
I forgave him for forgetting my birthday. After he lit the wick of that candle he also lit a fire in my soul. A fire that told me that what we had was untouchable.
Whether we defined it or not. Labels were for punks anyways. Right?
The Gallagher's still don't know. If they found out who knows what would happen. We'll tell them, eventually. Until then, it's stolen looks and stolen kisses.
I'm fine. Really, I am. This is okay.
It's good.
After an awkward dinner with the Gallagher's, Monica, and Bob, things sort of fell into place. Monica was outnumbered by her kids who were more than willing to fight for Liam. She had an emotional departure that didn't include their beloved baby brother.
Now that, that's what a family is. There didn't have to be a mother or father. There only had to be love because sometimes blood isn't thicker than water. Especially if that blood is watered down with cheap vodka and wine, like my family.
The Gallagher's were family. And I needed to relish in that while I could.
So Lip and I couldn't exist while family was around.
And I was okay with that. I think.
Lip and I were sitting under the train tracks, tangled together on the battered couch that seen more action than a bed. If the couch could talk, it'd scream.
My ear was glued to his heart as he played with my fingers, "What school were you talking to?"
I closed my eyes listening to the rhythm of his heart, "Some art school in San Francisco."
I could hear his heart pick up.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"San Francisco, huh?" He didn't seem the bit enthused.
I traced the length of his long fingers with mine, "I guess they have a good fine arts program or something." I shrugged.
He remained quiet before speaking, "I didn't think you wanted to go to school."
I could hear the underlining tone in his voice. I knew he didn't seem too happy about my indiscretion about college. I chose my words carefully, "It was just information, Lip."
I could feel him exhale on the top of my head, "Didn't really seem like it." His voice didn't sound angry but I could tell what he really meant.
"It's not like he was asking me to apply right then and there." I argued using Ty's words.
He stayed quiet, "How did he know it was your birthday?" Bingo. There was the real concern.
I didn't want to fight but I wanted to provoke some sort of feelings from him. I don't know why. I guess I'm fucked up that way.
I sat up to get a better look at his face, "Is Lip Gallagher jealous?" I smirked.
Blue eyed boy rolled his eyes while moving me to sit up, "No."
So simple. So casual. So cold.
A crease formed between my brows, "Doesn't really seem like it." I challenged now using his words. "He seemed pretty interested in me too. He even gave me his number." The addict inside me was amused. She was laughing her fucking ass off.
I could hear him sigh as he put his shirt on, "Stop, Cash." He warned like he always does before it happened
"Stop what?" I played dumb in the most innocent tone I could find. "He took extra-long talking to me compared to everyone else." I smirked.
It's like a drug.
His voice reeked of arrogance, "Stop being childish." He said while buttoning his pants up. He didn't look at me.
It's like I'm addicted.
"Excuse me for calling you out on your shit like you always do to me." My shoulders shrug. I didn't think he was really jealous but an evil, sick, and twisted part of me hoped he was. The damaged part of me.
It's like I can't stop.
He rolled his eyes while lighting up a cigarette and sitting back on the couch. "I have no shit to be called out on."
It's like I don't want to.
"So you aren't jealous?" I looked at the boy who was getting on my nerves.
It's like I wanted this to happen.
And then he said the words that made me want to break his face in, "What's there to be jealous of? It's not like he'd be interested in a poor girl from the south side."
And to those words he told the truth. We weren't really together.
He didn't defend me. He didn't claim me as his. He didn't fight for me.
He just fueled with me another reason to hate him.
I stood from the couch, while putting my clothes back on. It was like I was on a train that I couldn't get off of. The addict in me wanted anger. So anger is what she was going to get.
He chuckled taking another drag, "You started it." He knew what he was doing. He knew my game and he made it clear that he wanted to win.
But I couldn't let him.
I turned around, "You're an idiot, you know that?"
He let the cigarette hang from his lips as he looked at the girl who didn't know when to stop, "And you're immature, you know that?"
I laughed, "I'm immature?"
He stood, "Yeah," He moved toe-to-toe with his enemy, "You're doing this on purpose. So what? So you can get a rise out of me? So you can make me angry? Jealous?" His voice grew with every sentence.
He knew exactly what I was doing. That's the thing about being connected. We knew everything the other didn't say.
I crossed my arms, "What if I am?"
"It's pathetic." His words laced with disgust, "You're not mine so why the fuck should I be concerned with who gives two shits about you?"
He was winning. I couldn't let him.
I squared my shoulders and straightened my stance, acting like his words didn't hurt. "You're right. I'm not yours. Why would I be with someone who doesn't give two shits about me?"
His eyes turned black. He shot back, "Why don't you ask Bobby?"
And just like that, I wanted to kill Lip Gallagher and he wanted to kill me. We were back where we started because we never even fucking left. We could never leave this place. We were forever stuck in between a rock and a hard place.
I pulled my backpack on and looked at the boy who was like my disease, "You're impossible."
He let out a sinister laugh, "I don't know why we even try."
I shook my head, "Me either."
And with that, I strangled the straps of my backpack and left the boy who made me feel like I was heaven thirty minutes ago.
I walked away from all our sad attempts and efforts to forget who we were.
I walked away from what we tried to be.
~
We literally fought about nothing. Absolutely nothing.
That boy didn't mean anything to me and Lip knew that. But it was like we used it as leverage to fight. We used it to do the one thing we were good at. We wanted it.
When things were close to perfect we destroyed it. Because we're fucked up.
We're twisted.
The boy who won't admit his true feelings and the girl who can't. Fucking perfect.
After the fight I called him.
I didn't care what time it was or the fact that I looked like crap, I just needed to talk to someone. Lip really bugged the shit out of me when he called me a poor girl from the south side. I mean, it's obviously true but I didn't want to be that right now. I wanted someone to see me. I wanted someone to see the person I wanted to be.
"Black coffee?" The voice asked from behind me.
I turned around and let out a small laugh, "All that creamer shit makes me sick."
Ty sat on the other end of the small table at the coffee shop on the north side, "That's a first."
I raised my eyebrow.
He chuckled, "Most girls your age are obsessed with creamer and caramel like it's a drug when it comes to coffee."
I wrapped my hands around the hot mug, "I'm not most girls."
"I can see that." He smiled softly, "So what's up?"
I didn't care what it meant when I called him, I just needed this. I sighed, "I'm sorry it's late and the last thing you probably want to do is talk about work."
He smiled, "That's literally the whole reason I'm in town. If I peak at least one person's interest, than I'm happy to help."
"You said that thing about financial aid?" I recalled from the college fair. "What does that entail?"
He placed his arms on the table, "It's a program that helps students get funding from the government to provide financial assistance to help people afford school."
"How does it work?" I didn't know the first thing about school. Clearly. I was raised by hyenas.
"Well you and your parent apply for the program with their most recent W-2 so the government can see what their income is like. From there they determine what funds you qualify for."
Ah, my mother. Of course. The ruiner of all good things in my life. Just when I thought there was a way.
He studied my face, "From the look on your face, I'm guessing you might have a problem with that."
I stared at my coffee cup, "I'm sure you don't find it surprising that the girl from the south side doesn't have a good relationship with her parents."
He shrugged, "I've seen worse."
I met his blue eyed stare, "I doubt that." Pretty boy probably didn't understand half of what my home life was like. I didn't even have a home.
"Try me." He said with a challenging stare.
I took a deep breathe, "I don't exactly live with my mom."
"So you live with your dad? We can work with that." He said in a naive tone.
I shook my head, "Not exactly. My home life is a complicated. Long story short, I don't have a good relationship with my mother." I didn't feel like getting into the dirty details with someone I could start fresh with.
He contemplated my vague explanation, "We can work with that." His tone was optimistic, "You can write a letter to the program stating that you aren't being financially supported by your parents. It's a little bit of a long process but it's possible."
"I can do that?" Disbelief.
He nodded, "Cassandra, there are programs and resources out there that can help you. You just have to be open to all your opportunities. This is possible." His voice sent a shock wave through my body. No ones ever talked me like this. Like it was possible. Like I was possible.
His smile made the peach fuzz on my arms stand tall. His smile was different. It was pure and innocent. It didn't tug on my heart strings like someone else's but it definitely made me feel comfortable. Safe.
My phone rung from my backpack, breaking our stare. I mentally socked myself.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I shifted to look through my bag.
He stood, "No worries. I'm going to grab a drink and then we can continue." He said in an angelic voice as he left.
I forced a smile.
"What?" I hissed into the phone, knowing exactly who was on the other line. My smile instantly leaving my face with a grimace.
It was silent.
"Lip?" I said his name like a curse word, "What the fuck do you want?" I tried speaking in hushed tones.
"Cash..." He was drunk. I knew it.
I rolled my eyes and scratched my head. This boy was testing my patience.
The line was quiet.
"Seriously, Lip. I really don't want to hear it." I slouched back in my chair as I looked over at the boy whose face never seen a fist a day in its life.
I could hear his breathing through the receiver. He didn't have to say a thing and could still make my heart race. Just knowing that he was thinking about me drove me crazy. The good kind of crazy. But I wouldn't let him know that.
"Are you gonna say anything? Or are you going to continue breathing into the phone like a stalker?" I grew annoyed.
That's when I heard it.
Her.
I couldn't make out what she was saying because the ringing in my ears came but I knew enough. I wasn't fucking stupid.
I scoffed while throwing my head back, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Disbelief coated my tone.
"Cash-," I heard him say before I ended the line.
My ears were ringing. My blood was boiling. My skin was crawling. My hands balled into a fist as I thought of Karen Jackson with my air.
All I could see was red. All I could see was fire.
"Are you okay?" The boy who could do no wrong asked as he sat back down.
I gripped my phone like I was Hulk and shoved it into my backpack before standing.
"What's going on?" He asked in a concerned tone.
I couldn't speak. If I spoke, I would scream.
I threw my backpack over my shoulder as I shoved through the coffee shop leaving behind Ty without a single word. It was wrong but I didn't give a fuck.
No, I didn't give a shit what I looked like. There was murder in my eyes and rage in my fists.
All I could think about was one thing:
Fight.
I was going to end this bitch. And after her, I was going to end Lip.
We weren't together.
And that was the fucking problem.
-----
I'm like the queen of late night uploads :)
Short chapter but a goodie. At least I think so. These bitches drive me nuts but I love them. <3
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