Prove It

Chapter XXIII

"Manda you have to help me! Jon told me he wants to talk and I don't know what to think about that!" Sofia whines on FaceTime. I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand, seeing we've been cycling through the same five lines for the past half hour.

"What do you want me to tell you Sof? I don't have psychic powers. I can't read his mind." What I would usually want to tell her is that he's most likely going to want to break up with her, and that she should prepare for the worst possible outcome. But the thing is, their relationship has been going so well for the past month since they've gotten back together. All the past times he's broken up with her is when they've gotten into some sort of stupid argument, but there's been no word of any negative conversations.

"Bitch just reassure me!" she sighs and flops down on her bed. "I'm really stressed right now and every other time he's asked to talk it's always ended badly. I don't know if I can take this anymore" she says and I almost, almost, roll my eyes. So it's really the twelfth heartbreak that really seals the deal or something?

"You're going to be fine, you guys havn't been fighting and I'm sure he just wants to spend time with you" I tell her but that only seems to make her more stressed.

"But when he wants to hang out he just asks if I want to do something!" she shrieks and I want to slap my own face, slap her face, and throw my phone across my bed. I swear I can never win with this girl.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fine. I have to go now girl I've gotta leave soon."

"Alright. Good luck with your dinner" she says and I cross my fingers with hope.

"Thanks, don't stress too much about Jon. You'll be okay. Love you."

"Love you too."

I end the call and look at myself in the mirror again. I hate how stupid I'm being right now. I've checked my outfit five times, my hair even more than that, and spent at least a half hour on my makeup that I eventually wiped all off. I shake my head at myself in disgust. What am I turning into?

I hear a soft knock at my door and I quickly step away from my mirror. "Come in."

"Marcus is here" my mom says, peeking her head through the doorway. "He's parked in the driveway if you want to get going."

"Okay, thanks." I say shortly. She gives me a small smile and closes the door behind her as she leaves. I sigh looking at myself. I'll have to apologize later.

Taking one last look in the mirror I grab my phone and rush down the stairs so Marcus wouldn't have to wait any longer. I walk past my family in the kitchen, too embarrassed to make eye contact with any one of them. I don't need my face any more red than it is right now, and knowing my family, something stupid as shit would come out of the mouths and make me flush.

"He coming in?" my dad asks. I stop in my tracks, and cringe at his question. I just want to leave. I don't want to have this conversation right now.

"No, he's waiting. We'll see you when we get there" I answer quickly and hurry out the door before they make any more requests.

I close the door behind me and look ahead to make eye contact with Marcus through the windsheild of the huge truck he drives and gets so much hate for. Out of all the cars he could have chosen he chose the gigantic black truck he was so adament about when he got his license.

I hoist myself up to the passenger side, actually having to work in order to sit up on the high seats. Compared to my car, the traditional size, this is crazy difficult.

"You good? Sorry, I should have helped you in" he says with a peck to my cheek. All I want to do is melt, his gentlman-ness getting to me bad.

"You're fine, I'm good" I assure him. "You know where you're going?"