Ethically Speaking

2.3

•- Quincie Jackson -•

It was hard avoiding Elijah those next few days.

I skipped my classes but he still sent me the notes despite me being fully capable of getting them from someone in my class. I was appreciative though and he never pushed me on attending class for the rest of the week.

I felt like I was at a loss.

Knowing that things were through was the worst part. It was hard to keep my feelings in check when I was trying to put my education first. Elijah was my professor and we were actively trying to finish this project that both of us seemed to forget about in the downfall of our friendship.

I was in my bed shamelessly eating an entire tub of ice cream. I managed to lie my way into the depths of my cave by faking a cold to mask the use of our tissues.

Grace was skeptical but the boys were oblivious to almost anything that wasn't an alien on the TV that they could shoot at.

Anthony had brought me home soup for the last few days and that was as much as my interactions would go with him.

I'm drawn from my thoughts when there's a knock at my bedroom door.

"Come in," I call out with a sigh. I realized wallowing in my own self-pity was about as productive as doing an assignment an hour before it was due.

"Hey stranger," Grace smiles at me as she steps into my bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I smile, jamming my spoon into my ice cream and pulling out a large spoonful.

"Hi," I say as I shove the entire spoon into my mouth.

I didn't care how pathetic I looked, I felt comforted and safe with a mouth full of ice cream.

"You look like shit, Quince," Grace reaches out for my tub of ice cream but I pull away.

It was a family-sized container but as far as I was concerned, I bought it with my own money and I think that's enough of an excuse to be allowed to eat it by myself.

"You look like shit," I fire back effortlessly before shoving another large spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

Grace raises her eyebrow before reaching out and peeling the tub of ice cream from my hands.

I immediately pout because come on. That was just too unfair.

"You and me, Quincie. We're going to get all dressed up and look hot as fuck. And then we'll go out to a bar and forget everything that's troubling you, okay?"

I think about it for a moment. I wasn't someone who drank. But maybe they were right about solving your problems with alcohol. Which was something I just might have to try.

"Okay, but you're driving," I pull my blankets from my legs and Grace looks at me with disgust.

"You haven't changed your pajamas in days, Quincie. What the fuck."

I scowl as my legs swing over my mattress. I changed the clothes that were important, but my pajama pants were soft and they made me feel the warmth I was missing from Elijah.