Delancy

01- the bathroom

When I was little I dreamt of love, the beautiful heart warming love, where men would buy me flowers and show me what love meant every- day.

I always believed a prince would wipe me off my feet, whisk me away and treat me like a princess.

But that's the furthest thing away from how I'm being treated right now. The furthest.

My so-called-boyfriend stands in the centre of the living room, surrounded by sloppily dancing people with red cups in their hands.

But only my boyfriend isn't dancing, he's kissing someone.

Someone that isn't me.

The girl has short, brown hair, that falls onto her shoulders as she cups my boyfriends face, snogging him in the middle of a frat party.

George's blonde hair falls onto his forehead, as he continues making out with the brown haired girl.

Someone who is the exact opposite of me.

Anger floods through me, running through every vein and making my heart beat a million beats per second.

It's so fast I can hear it in the side of my head.

Zara my bestfriend would scream at me if she saw me, shouting at me for just standing here.

She would tell me to go and beat him the fuck up, and slap the girl in the face for kissing my boyfriend.

Maybe she'll do it I can just watch. It would be more entertaining.

But I can't find her anywhere. She went out today and got a haircut spontaneously, so I don't exactly know what I'm looking for.

It would have been easier if she just sent me a damn photo.

Am I not good enough for him?

Mother always told me I didn't have to worry about men cheating on me, because I had my surname and people feared my father. And that I was beautiful.

But never as beautiful as my sister, that might be why. Because I'm not pretty enough for him.

But maybe I should have listened to my gut as George continued spewing out red flags every week.

Maybe I should feel more numb? More annoyed? More upset? Honestly, I don't know how to feel. I never loved George.

I fell for the British accent, not him.

There's just something about them, I don't know what it is. But it gets me all excited.

I stop looking for my bestfriend and instead look back to my boyfriend sticking his hands down the back of her jeans.