Six: stop fucking with me

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The phone didn't ring. It didn't ring all night nor the next day. It finally rang for me around six on Thursday. I wished I had told Eddie he can't call at certain times lest my father answer. Eddie ended up getting yelled at and cussed out for daring to be a boys voice he didn't recognise calling for me. Gods he definitely thought I was fucking with him now, because why not mess with the freak's feelings right?

I wanted to kill my dad but I just pretended like I didn't even know the phone had rung as I slid back into my room, shutting the door before tossing a jacket onto my bed. Fuck it if I had to bike, I was going to explain myself to Eddie tonight. I figured there was no use asking Carter for a ride he'd likely just make fun of me for not being able to drive again. What I was wearing was fine I supposed, a short white skirt with a cropped pink tank top that read 'babygirl' in white cursive across the front. I had on various delicate necklaces and rings along with earrings shaped like cherries.

It was beyond a drag to sit and wait for my father to leave for work and my mother to be asleep so I could easily slip out into the night. It was around eleven and I had to grab my bike from the garage, realising I was in a skirt but also didn't really care because it was late and dark and I likely wouldn't have to bike back. Assuming I could smooth things over with Eddie I'd get a cute car ride home with a doe eyed boy. I sighed before throwing myself onto my bike seat and heading for the other side of town.

I threw my bike down onto his lawn with an exasperated sigh, sweat making my bangs stick to my forehead in what I was sure was a less than gorgeous display. I took a moment to straighten my outfit and hair before jogging up to knock on his trailer door. Once again showing up to his house round eleven pm though it was closer to half past this time.

When his door swung open all I could think to do was blurt out. "Eddie! I'm sorry." With a long defeated sigh and a gaze glued to my shoes.

After a moment I watched his legs disappear but didn't hear the door close. I looked up and hesitated before stepping into his trailer.

"Eddie?" I called out as I made my way just into the living room. Before I could wonder where he'd went he was walking back towards me with a glass of water in his hand which was quickly offered to me. "Thanks."

He just nodded and I took a sip before I took off on my explanation because honestly I didn't care if I was out of breath.

"Listen okay I know how it looks, well I think anyways." I began with a tentative look in Eddie's direction and found his eyes on me. "Like I don't know I hit it off with this cute boy and liked him so much I showed up at his house to get his attention right and then ignored him for two weeks and when he called my house he got yelled at! So yea I know it looks bad."

"It does look bad." My exasperation was met with an amused grin and I was glad to see it was back so quickly.

"I really didn't mean to." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I can't drive."

"I've gathered that." His grin had changed to a smirk and I couldn't help but to roll my eyes.

"Anyways, Carter's an ass and won't take me anywhere, it's not like I can ask my parents, and I'm not asking Steve." I glared to the side as I mentioned Steve. Even the thought of having to try and argue with him to take me to see 'the town freak' made me tired. "But like my parents are strict and dumb and like I totally didn't mean for my dad to yell at you."

"'S alright." He mused, he turned on his heel as if to lead me into his room before pausing "But," he said whilst turning back around. "I want you to stop fucking with me."

"What do you mean?" My brows furrowed in confusion as I looked at the boy before me.

"Here." He said as he walked up to me with a smile, grabbing my wrist and pulling my arm towards him. He then reached in his pocket and pulled out the same marker I'd left with him at the hideout before scrawling his number onto my arm with his name and a little heart in what would definitely be considered chicken scratch. Honestly his handwriting was barely legible and it was kind of cute because it really fit him. I couldn't help but to laugh at this, and Eddie cocked a brow at me in silent question for me to explain.

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