The Bad Girl's Good Side

Chapter 7: No, there isn't a problem, right?

Chapter 7: No, there isn't a problem, right?

A soft hum of classical music fills the ears in the classy store filled with no more that thirt-five people and an expensive-smelling aroma patrols every isle in the store the girls had dragged me in. We had been at the mall for about an hour and all they had managed to purchase in that agonizing hour is a pair of expensive pearl earrings.

I do not fully comprehend the concept of shopping for an hour and yet claim to not have seen anything of your desire. That's why I don't bother setting foot in a mall without knowing what is it that I really want.

Girls are really complicated.

I have been lounging on the customer soft seats while waiting for Peyton and Kaitlyn to finish scouring every isle and trying out almost every outfit of their interest.

Quite boring actually, so I have the wonderful company of something that doesn't always nag about giving it my opinion, or force me to try something on for useless reasons-- my other best friend, my phone. Yes, I have been coping through this hour, and now also a few minutes, of torture with the assistance of my phone and an addictive game by the name of Subway Surfers.

"What do you think about this one?" Peyton asks while holding out a black dress that I only notice through my peripheral vision.

"Ask Kaitlyn." I reply without lifting my gaze from my phone.

I'm almost going to beat my high score!

"Can you at least try to help?" Her voice rings in my ears again but I just continue to play my game; I shift my undivided attention to the screen in my grasp.

Suddenly, a hand rudely yanks the device out my hold and I lunge at the culprit after yelling, "Hey!"

"You have been glued to your phone ever since we reached the mall." Peyton shakes her head and holds a hand out in front of me as if telling me to not take another step towards her.

"I was almost going to beat my record!" I whine childishly at her while trying to retrieve my phone. But I fail.

"Well, I don't care about your stupid game." She retorts then stuffs my only distraction into her back jean pocket.

No! My baby!

One would say I'm exaggerating but I am not. I am just trying to cope with the fact that I had been forcefully dragged to the boisterous mall when I, might I add, could have been comfortably sprawled across the couch while enjoying my awesome spicy margaritas pizza and some delicious Oreo ice cream. I could have been playing COD for crying out loud-- well, if my brother isn't home because he becomes cranky if I dare touch his dear Play Station.

So the only coping mechanism I have is my phone, which has sadly been confiscated by the traitor I deem as my best friend. She doesn't understand that I need it before I lose my control in this place of... of...

I'm even too cranky to finish that sentence!

"Why are you acting like this?!" Peyton whines in response.

"Acting like what?" I narrow my eyes in confusion.

I'm not even disturbing her.

"You aren't here at all. You're too absorbed in whatever nonsense yo--"