eleven - "fart on the food"

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Saturday. It was of my favourite days because I have no classes and I didn't have to last minute stress about homework. However, this Saturday I was bored since I had no friends to hang out with. None. Nada.

I roll over on my bed and check the time on my phone. It was almost midday and I was still tired despite sleeping for almost nine hours. I sigh and rub my hands over my eyes.

Brad was in the shower washing himself. We hadn't spoken since we got back this morning, and it was definitely growing more tense between us both. Brad and I almost kissed. He almost kissed me, the same girl who he hated with all of his guts.

The bathroom door unlocks and I glance over to see Brad wearing some joggers and a loose white shirt. Before he notices me looking, I flicker my eyes back up to the ceiling, contemplating what to do today.

"Can we talk?" He asks, rubbing his hair with a towel. I shift my head so I can look at him. He was now perched on the edge of his bed, facing me. He takes my silence as a yes. "Last night, we almost kissed."

"You almost kissed me," I correct him but he rolls his eyes, throwing his towel on the floor. My eyes look at the towel instead of at him, I knew how awkward this conversation was already going to get.

"I just wanted to clarify that it was a mistake," he states and I can't help but feel offended more than anything. "I was tired and not thinking properly."

"You're going to use the fact you were tired as an excuse for the fact you nearly took advantage of me while I was drunk," I scoff, sitting up. "Because you didn't have my consent to kiss me and I wasn't in the right state of mind to even consider it."

"Well I didn't fucking kiss you, did I?"

"I don't want your slimy fucking lips on mine anyway," I retort. "They've been on every girl's fanny that you've ever seen."

"You're just jealous," he argues and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "Because people actually like me. Even your best friend left you for the guy that played you like you were bloody ping pong. People want me, people just feel sympathetic and hang out with you!"

I rip my sheets off of my body, exposing my short shorts and baggy shirt I was wearing for bed and grab some socks off of the floor, shoving them on before slipping on my shoes.

"Where are you going? We're not finished here!" He stands up as I put my coat on. I turn to face him.

"You mean you've not finished telling me how no one fucking likes me?" I roll my eyes. "I'm going on a walk."

"Fine," he scoffs. "At least I don't run away from my problems."

"I don't run away from my problems," I snap back as I grab my purse from the side and shove it in my jacket pocket.

"So you didn't run away from the party yesterday after you got ditched by your mate?" He raises his eyebrows, challenging me.

"You know what?" I ask rhetorically, unplugging my phone. "You're a fucking shallow little arsehole. People only 'want' you so they can suck your one inch dick. Go fuck yourself."

I don't give him chance to reply as I swing open the dorm door and slam it shut.





I look over the label of another bottle, reading the percentage before placing it in my trolley carefully. I continue making my way down the alcohol aisle, adding up how much all the beer, cider, wine and vodka would cost in my head as I find the check out at Tesco.

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