My life had become unbalanced.
My romantic life with Gale was amazing. I loved spending time with him, it'd been a long time since I'd had a boyfriend I liked so much. A couple days ago he'd asked me to be his actual girlfriend - as in no more lies to help his social gain, but involving real feeling and emotion.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" Gale had asked, suddenly.
"Aren't we already?" I had answered, absentmindedly, distracted by the movie we were watching in my living room.
"No, I meant will you be my real girlfriend."
The comercials were then playing on screen so he had my undivided attention. I saw from how tense he was that this was a big issue for him, so I said gently "To be honest, I've always liked you. So as far as I'm concerned, we've never not been properly dating."
His face relaxed, and there was a flirtatious grin on his face "So I guess there's just one more thing."
Catching on to his tone, I asked coyly "And what's that?"
"Make up for lost time..."
But on the other hand, Jace was still being icily cold to me. Not rude exactly, but polite in an almost insulting way. I hated it. I hated how we could go from being so close to so distrant. I hated how I felt like there was a barrier between us that stopped me from saying everything I wanted to. I hated how I couldn't even apologize properly to him, because I still didn't know exactly why he was so pissed at me.
I mean, I know he's probably annoyed I've been spending more time with Gale and less with him. But it really wasn't fair when I always accepted, if wasn't happy, when he rearranged our plans for something with one of his sluts or whore.
But either way, I'd already decided that I would make up with him in any way I could; our friendship was worth much more than my pride.
My parents, I don't suppose I've mentioned them, were extremely busy. My mom an finance manager and my dad a lawyer - very successful one's at that. But I barely ever saw them - they left early in the morning for work, and returned close to midnight.
The arrangement left me a lot of freedom, there were no squabbles about who got to shower first/who got the last slice of pizza, but I spent more time alone than most 15-year-old girls did; more than I wished I did. I could cook - very well - so I got on fine, but the family dinners that most teenagers despised was something I wished I could experience more often.
The two of them were very old-fashioned, they expected me to constantly wear knee-length dresses and turtlenecks. When I was wearing one of my more promiscuous outfits, I would cover up with a coat before leaving. They hated the way I dressed, but they couldn't do anything about it because whenever they brought it up, I would counter their arguments with how they didn't spend enough time with me.
Anyway, it was Saturday morning - one of the rare times they were home. They were sitting at the breakfast table, reading newspapers, and my mom looked up as I entered and said "Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah thanks,"
"There's waffles on the stove if you're hungry." My dad added.
Yum, homemade waffles. I took a plate and sat down, when my mom said "Honey, we're going out for dinner with the Anderson's tonight."
"We are?"
"Do you have something to wear? If you don't we could go out and buy something, maybe have lunch while we're there."
