Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"I'm sick and I'm tired too. I can admit, I am not fireproof. I feel it burning me..." ♫ The Beach by The Neighbourhood.
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When Cher and I got home from our impromptu Sex Freak Show at the birthday venue, I wore my bruises, hickies and bite marks like whorish battle scars, and she brandished her engagement ring like a blushing bride.
For three whole days, she annoyed the shit outta me and all our friends.
We were all excited for her, Koi mostly so, screaming at the top of her lungs and jumping around with Cherry for fifteen minutes when she heard the news.
But, even after all our friends expressed their happy congrats, she took any excuse to bring it up.
At the beauty store.
"Excuse me, could I sneak past you and grab that eye-shadow pallet? It's for my fiance."
At her shift at GroovyRoad.
"Slipknot or Limp Bizkit. Huh. I don't know... but you know who might? My fiance. He's just over there, he's in a band, he'd know more about good metal vinyl records than me. Ask him."
And even at the dentist office. While in the damn chair.
"Raise your right hand if you feel pain or if you think you might gag, okay?"
"Gag? Never. Ask my fiance."
That one earned some awkward laughter that had me facepalming myself in my chair in the corner and looking at her scoldingly. The dentists face would never be erased from my mind.
Cherry had grown a lot but she had little to no social awareness sometimes.
Either that or I taught her how to not care about other people feelings a little too well.
I couldn't believe I was such a sappy motherfucker, but watching her brag about me was an... indescribable kind of joy.
And I was riding it out for as long as it'd last.
"Say Satan." Holding up a disposable camera to my eye, I snapped a photo of Cher on the rehearsal stage at our local studio, the flash making her flinch and glare at me for the tenth time that hour.
"Okay, Harlow--Harlow, I told you, if you were gonna come to my rehearsal, that you had to be quiet. We're about to start, so I need you to shut the fuck up and eat your french fries, okay?" She sternly said, giving me an annoyed thumbs up as she spoke into the microphone.
She couldn't expect me to keep my mouth closed when she looked like that.
Stood up all sexy on that stage in baggy blue jeans and a white wife beater that was entirely see through, especially from so far back in my special seat.
