The Significance of Orange Juice

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

                My charcoal flew across the page in sweeping curves as I added the final touches to my latest sketch. Finally finished, I smudged the charcoal on his face slightly so that he was half hidden in shadow. I sighed as I ran my fingers lightly across the drawing. God, I miss you so much, Rhys… My mouth twitched into a sad smile as I wrote ‘Forever’ at the bottom of the page and dated the drawing. Forever had been our promise. But some promises just can’t be kept, no matter how much you want to.

                A buzz echoed through the room, breaking me away from my thoughts. The screen of my phone lit up and I stood up to check it. 1 new message from +447544900354. Surprised, I blinked stupidly at the screen of my phone. Nobody – and I really do mean nobody – texted me, apart from Olivia. And even that was only occasional since she knew how useless I was at checking my phone. It was always a bit hit and miss if I’d notice the message. You were only guaranteed a reply if I happened to be holding my phone in my hand when the message came through.

                I opened the message from the mysterious number, curious to see who was texting me.

So, what sort of boring thing does a good girl do on a Friday evening ;) Jay x

I huffed as I read the message. Apparently not giving Jay my number wasn’t enough of a hint that I didn’t want to talk to him. I had to give him credit though - he was a persistent stalker. I wondered briefly if he’d stolen my phone from me to get my number or if he’d asked Olivia for it, but I shook off the thought. It didn’t make a difference how he’d got my number; the problem was how to deal with him now that he could bug me whenever he wanted.

I am NOT a good girl! And I could be doing something fun! I sent back, pulling my sketchbook over towards me again. My phone buzzed with a new message almost instantly.

“God, how fast does that boy text?” I muttered under my breath in irritation. My quiet evening of sketching was rapidly slipping away from me and I was not happy in the slightest that it was Jay Roberts of all people who was ruining my relaxation time.

I read the latest message. But you’re not doing something fun, are you? I’m betting that you’re home alone. I scowled at my phone as if it would somehow transmit my ire to Jay. Technically, I wasn’t home alone; my parents were down stairs, but telling Jay that would just confirm the intent behind his message. It was a Friday night, and I was doodling absently in my sketchbook. I was a rubbish excuse for a teenager.

Jay seemed to take my lack of a reply as confirmation that he was right. You should go to a club with me. I could show you a good time… ;) All of the blood rushed to my face as I read Jay’s perverted text. As if I would ever do anything at all with Jay, let alone something sexual.

I shuddered. There was an image I wasn’t going to be able to get out of my head in a hurry. I texted Jay back to tell him just that and then set about saving his contact, since it looked like Jay wasn’t going to be leaving me along anytime soon. I smirked as I changed his contact name to Arsehole. Ah well, small victories, right?

Jay didn’t seem to care that I’d blown him off. You keep telling yourself that, doll face. Maybe one day you’ll believe that it’s true. I made a face at my screen, disgusted by the pet name that he’d given me. It was just so degrading. Women had died in the fight to get the vote – accepting such a condescending name seemed like spitting on the memories. My fingers danced across the keypad as I sent him a terse reply.

It. IS. True.

Again, Jay didn’t seem to be fazed by my message. So is that a no to clubbing then?