fillie.
"God, can't we just start over?" He pleads, for the last time.
"Finn. I don't know if I can do it..."
"Millie please. God, I love you, can't you see that? Isn't that all that matters in these types of situations?"
I sigh deeply. My waters...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
sequel to 'the good girl': 'the heartbreaker' — chapter two.
"and I chase it down, with a shot of truth. that my feet don't dance, like they did with you."
the pounding in my head hasn't stopped and im undoubtably not making it any better as i tip my head back, coercing another cold, hard whisky shot down my throat. it burns my oesophagus, but at this current moment in time, i don't think i care even a modest bit. im not the type to drink often. the only times i have has always had some link to finn. he drives me crazy. makes me do irrational things that i wouldn't normally do. and i hate him for it. there was no doubt asher wouldn't be happy when he finds out i have been drinking again. i had finally been able to stop depending on alcohol as a coping mechanism, until tonight that is, unless im having an emotional breakdown because i can't help myself either then. and i do think that this comes under that circumstance, doesn't it? the last time that i saw him was about a year and a half ago. id say two years, but lamentably, i was having an emotional breakdown (and we all know what that means) a few months after we had broken up for good, and i had woken up the next morning in his bed.
it was all so eminently familiar, that i was numbed in place, my body unable to move as his hands hung insecurely over the naked frame of my waist. i remember the look in his eyes that morning, when i told him i had to leave. when i told him that the prior night was a mistake. they were glacial and remote and he almost looked as if he had a reason to be mad at me. as if he had something he needed to tell me. but wasn't this all his fault. wasn't he the one that lied? kissed iris? stood me up? wasn't that all him?
it made me let out an untenanted laugh when i saw his acetous sneer, looking up at me from his mattress. what was his reason for being so bitter? as if i was the one who broke his heart. as if i was the heartbreaker. how incredibly ironic.
i can see him now, from out of the corner of my eye. he is laughing at a joke that jennifer hayes just made. but i know him all too well to know it was his fake laugh, the one he did to not make you feel bad, the one he did when he'd much rather be talking to someone else.
i am done looking at him. i am done thinking about him. if he wanted me, he would've stopped me from leaving a year and a half ago when he had the chance. but he didn't. he couldn't. he loved her. i could tell. her and her perfect pearly teeth, her pretty smile and her annoyingly gorgeous blonde wavy hair that fell down way past her shoulders. her stupidly cute shade of red lipstick. god i hate her perfect she is. so perfect for him. she's not flat and she's got long legs and she's blonde and athletic and i hate it. she's just his type, there's no debating that. why would he ever want me when he could have her?
