My Valentine

Twenty-Three: Part I

Marshall Valentine

"Miss Phillips..."

The words passed through my lips weakly. The croak I made had never come from my mouth before, which I realized I should've prided myself in.

It sounded as if it belonged to a senior citizen. The sight of her flabbergasted expression sickened me.

This isn't what it looks like...

Nightingale Phillips

What the actual f*ck?

I clutched the dish of cookies in my hands, tempted to fling the ceramic object in to his skull, but I couldn't...not in front of them.

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS BEFORE

I dumped my overnight bag unto her wooden floor and leaped into her unmade bed.

She didn't even budge.

"I don't think she'd wake up even if you set her on fire puddin'."

I snickered and Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes.

"If you get tired of her lazy butt, come downstairs for some oatmeal cookies."

I called out, "Thank you!"

She just waved in return, walking away.

Mrs. Jones was a lot darker than Tammy, which would've puzzled anyone who didn't know that her father was of a mixed race. Judging by how she disliked the idea of dating a white man, it was ironic that her partner was actually German-Ghanan, which meant that he had a drop of European blood in him.

Still, she was all for Tammy dating a nice guy. He just couldn't be white. Poor Berry.

Initially, we were supposed to be having just a sleepover, but being the gorgeous genius I was, I decided to spend the entire day and night with her. I was one of the most fortunate persons on this planet, because any sane thinking person would have distanced themselves from an impending volcanic eruption/earthquake/tsunami that was my relationship with Marshall.

Thankfully, Tammy wasn't the most logically thinking person at times. Either that or she loved me immensely.

I'd finally be able to vent what I was feeling to someone who wasn't Marshall. Not that he would've listened anyway. He still hadn't called me and I would've died before I called him. He needed to make up his mind because even though I knew I may have been in love with him, I wasn't going to wait around for him when there was a possibility that he would take his wife back.

Did he realize how much it hurt? I kept trying not to think about it, yet still, I had dark circles around my eyes when I finally dragged myself out bed.

You see, loving someone and knowing that you're always going to be a second option for them did something to not just your heart, but your entire body.

It didn't matter if he had affections for you. I wanted Marshall's everything. I wanted him to be consumed with thoughts of only me, but I was beginning to think that was never going to happen.

I snuggled closely to her and listened to her soft snores. Her room was the exact opposite of mine. Hers was more boyish, while mine was full on girl mode.
My eyes rested on one of the many photos she had of us on her 'Wall of Friends'.

It was a younger version of us. I was laughing, my head thrown back while she was kissing my cheek and squeezing my boob.

Anyone would've sworn we were two lesbians, but if your best friend is the same gender as you, it's impossible for you guys not to be the tiniest bit gay! I mean, you can't contain that much love!