𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ➳ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞

04 | dingo

Step one, go to the dingo.

My feet made prints in the heavy snow, the frigid air hitting my face. It was a pretty day, minus the cold wind.

I was heading towards the dingo, since that was step one for getting a boyfriend. If Steve could move on so quickly, then I could too.

I was just hoping my plan would work out.

Steve

I was getting real tensed up lately, I needed a drink to help calm the nerves since the cigarettes aren't working now.

I rode down the street in my truck, I didn't know if I planned on getting drunk tonight or not, either way, I needed a way to escape.

I opened the front door, people were making out and drinking. I made my way through the crowd to the bar.

"What can I get ya?" The lady spat, I rolled my eyes.

"One bottle." I demand, my head was starting to hurt from all the noise, I needed some alcohol right now.

"'Kay." She sassed, winking at me. She seemed to be sixteen or seventeen, a little young to be working a bar.

The smell was intriguing, it made me want to down three bottles. The lady came back with the bottle and handed it to me.

I nodded in acceptance and twisted the cap, I looked around aimlessly, like I was looking for someone. And there she was.

Dierdre.

I almost jumped up, but I stayed seated. For all I know she could still be angry with me, and I didn't think I could take anymore yelling today.

I downed the whole bottle then walked dizzily over to her, she sat next to a tall boy who had slicked back blonde hair and almond brown eyes.

"Deirdre." I chimed, she looked at me quickly, then looked away. "Deirdre...look."

"Shut up, Steve." She snapped.

"Can't you just hear me out?" I practically begged.

"What's there to know? That you had other girls while we had something going on?" She stood in front of me, like she was looking for a fight.

"I didn't! You know I only love you." I say softly, brushing my hand onto her shoulder, but she swiped it away.

"Don't touch me." She warned. "You don't only love me, you love that Heather broad."

"I don't love her!" I fumed.

"Oh yeah? From what I've heard you do." She crossed her arms to her chest.

"It isn't real love!" I said. "My only real love was with you and you know it!" I exclaimed, balling my hands into fists.

"Oh yeah? Well you wouldn't know what real love is anyways." She cocked her eyebrow. "Like you said, you've only loved me and I still don't understand love."

"I understand perfectly, and I know exactly that you're the one for me." I yelled at her. Everyone in the bar was staring at us, and for once, I didn't mind it so much.

"Well you're not the one for me!" She shoved me, I didn't stumble or anything. I picked her up, bridal style and carried her out the door.

"Let me go!" She pounded my chest, but I didn't flinch, I just kept walking all the way to her house.

I knew that if I didn't end the argument there, something bad would've happened and I don't wanna hurt her.

I laid her down gently on her couch, she looked freezing, considering that it was winter.

"Where's my brother?" She asked coldly, grabbing the blanket from my hands.

"He left." I said plainly, sitting down in the armchair.

"He what?" She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with shock.

"He left right when we ended things." I said. "You didn't know that?"

"No." She mumbled, laying back down. Without warning, she started to cry into her hands.

"Woah, Deirdre." I hurried over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I always told myself." She started, sniffling. "That my brother did actually love me underneath the beatings."

I blinked, and she continued.

"Before mom and dad left four years ago, he loved me. And I'm sure you remember that." She cracked a smile. "And now he's gone."

"He wasn't a good brother anyways, he isn't worth crying over." I assured her, rubbing her back.

"It's not like you'd understand!" She spat, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

"I never said that I understood." I call after her.

"Sure sounds like that's what you're trying to say." She rolled her eyes and grabbed a cup.

"I'm not! Can't I just do something nice for my girlfriend?!" I demand, then catch myself when I say it.

"I'm not your girlfriend! We've been over for two weeks and you know that! Go run back to your little Heather."

"I don't like her, I love you." I say.

"Why'd you end things then?" She asks.

"I don't know, I needed a break from dating." I lied.

"Liar, you went right back to dating your seventh grade girlfriend!" She yelled at me.

"Don't you get it?! I don't love her!" I grabbed her shoulders and spin her around to face me, but she shoves me away.

"I don't care who you love, I don't love you." She makes contact with my face with her hand, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded.

"I understand." I let it go, not because I don't love her anymore, or because I don't want to make it up to her.

Because I respect her opinion.

And I know she'd want me to understand.