Typical Blonde / bajancanadian / completed

chapter 19

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

I look over at him, and his eyes are full of sadness. I don't get it, I really don't. He thinks I can just let something like that go? How sick of a mind does he have?"

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Mitchell Hughes."

"Dick." I mutter, and place my cheek against the window. I look outside and watch closely at every single happy family. Smiling, laughing, not a doubt in this cruel world.

Sitting here, I realize how much I envy those people. How much I'd love to hold my mothers hand once again, when she actually did talk to me.

"I'm sorry."

My head snaps over at him, my eyes narrowing. I look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I just, don't always understand other people's perspectives."

"How is mine so confusing? You would've stole something extremely personal, and then just push me down? How is being used just normal? Are you just so used to doing that to girls, that it doesn't even faze you anymore? Well Mitchell, sorry will not be enough for me."

I'm breathing heavily now, and as we stop and pull in his driveway, we both find ourselves just sitting there. I swear he can hear my own heartbeat, along with my thumping veins.

I close my eyes, and focus on my breathing. I hear the door open, and feel the cold air rush in. I forgot that while I was gone, people and weather change. I haven't even noticed that it's on the verge of winter.

*

It's been awkward. Actually that's an understatement. The silence is literally cutting through me.

Ring, Ring.

I slowly walk to the door, and open up to see a beautiful young lady in front of me.

"Hello?"

Her blonde hair shines against her sparkly crop top, and high waisted jeans. What the hell, lady? It's almost winter!

"I'm here for Mitch."  She chews her gum loudly, and twirls her hair around her perfectly polished finger.

I yell for Mitchell, and he slowly comes down, looking better than ever. He's wearing a white plain polo, and some dark jeans. His silver earring's shine, and reflects in his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Mitch?"

"This is my friend, Annabelle."

Friend? Yea right.

So back to the present, I've now been sitting here lonely and in complete silence. I'm constantly picking up my phone, checking the time.

He's been gone for three hours now. For some odd reason, it's bothering me so much. No matter what I do, his name immediately pops into my head.

Say I'm cooking dinner, I'll immediately think, would Mitch like this? Don't ask me why. It just happens. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

*

"I'm home!"

I glance over at my clock, 2:30. Great. Thanks for waking me up from my beauty sleep, thanks a lot. He lightly knocks on my door, and I roll over, and face the wall.

I hear it creak open, and the smell of sweat and beer fills the room. Of course he was at a bar. I squint my eyes shut, and try to ignore the burning smell.

"I know your awake."

I continue to act.

"Or not. Well honestly, if you were awake, I'd tell you you're pretty cute when you're sleeping."

Is he seriously talking to me when I'm 'sleeping'? Kind of creepy.

"I'm not going to lie to you, I went to a bar, and may of done some things I regret. But I mean come on, you saw how hot she was."

You've got to be kidding me.

"You're an asshole."

I sit up, and he stares at me, wide eyed.

I point my finger into his chest, and look at him in pure anger.

"I can't believe you went out and had sex with another girl!" I scowl, throwing my hand up into the air.

"Why the hell do you care! We're not even dating! You hate me."

"Mitchell, I'm done. Get out, okay?"

~

#mitchthebitch

no?

okay.

I love you all though. Seriously, never forget that.

Emma