A F F E C T I O N

s e v e n

k stop taking offence at her description of annabell thx. we all think mean things sometimes and it's not okay to shame ANYONE but please chill. (just becuase you see similarities she's not describing YOU)

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She chews her bubblegum with her mouth open, tapping her naked fingernails on the desk. I thought you liked nail polish.

"So, I'm not doing all of the work on this stupid project." She says with non-veiled disgust.

"Neither am I." I reply, keeping my voice low as the teacher flicks her eyes to our stare down. You're working across the classroom with Kennedy, and I know she's only giving you the cold shoulder for my sake. She liked you too, compared with all of the other boys I tried out.

"Well," her lips don't have any lipgloss on them, and her perfume makes my head hurt. I hate her I hate her I hate her. I also wish I didn't. "You read chapter four, and I'll read five. Make a list of points, and we don't have to work together." Then she opens her Canadian History book and commences burying her pert nose in it.

Her nose irritates me. It's so small and nicely sloped. My nose is huge, just shy from Roman, and I've thought about a nose job more than once. You always said big noses made people look intelligent.

I look over at you and Kennedy again; you're wearing that turquoise sweater that glows against your skin, and you cut your hair again so it isn't even an inch long. Kennedy has her arms crossed as you flip through the book, making notes and talking. You say something that makes her laugh, then she kicks you sharply under the table. Then you laugh.

I've missed your laugh.

"Stop staring at my boyfriend." She snarls, kicking me under the table. Her voice goes a few octaves above normal when she's angry, and it irritates me to no end.

"Stop staring at me." I reply with an imperious tilt to my chin to cover up any hurt leaking into my voice.

"You're just jealous, Carolina." She says my name like it's poison, like it's a punch line, and I narrow my eyes. I know the expression is terrifying.

"Why would I be jealous, Annabel? Of a girl with a name that sounds like a Disney character and has no friends?"

"I have friends." Her shirt is just a t-shirt. Her jeans are just skinny. Her thighs don't have even the hope of a gap. She wears converse.

I snort derisively. Your attention is on us, and Kennedy is smiling her wicked smile. You murmur something to her, and she replies without looking away from us with a delighted smirk. "Losers."

"He's mine now." She says, deadly soft. "Get. Over. It."

"Get. Away. From. Me." I walk out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher's questioning exclamation. I walk past the bathroom even though I'd thought vaguely of crying in there, and go outside instead.

My car still smells faintly of your cologne, and I stop with my hand on the door handle as the tears fall. I don't want to get in. I don't want to go back inside, so here I stand, leaning and crying and shivering.

"Caro," I would recognize your voice a mile away. "Caro, it's okay."

Then you're hugging me, your arms warm and firm and familiar. You stroke my hair and cradle me against your chest murmuring sweet, nonsensical nothings. You smell like you, and it fills my chest with nostalgia to the point where I feel like I'll burst.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. Over and over. "I'm so, so, sorry."

I pull away first, wiping my face on the sleeve of my sheer button down. "Go back to your girlfriend." I mutter, pushing you away at the shoulder; you don't budge.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Riel," I take a deep breath.

"What?"

"Go away." It kills me to say it, it feels as if my heart is ripping open again at the barely healed seams. But I can't take this... this look you're giving me. The pitying concern over your psychotic ex. "Please."