No Good ⇥Dallas Winston⇤

eight- pt.2

Arabella Morris

We're both sitting on his bed. I don't even know where to start. I'm so sick and tired of arguing with him every time we see each other. It's getting out of hand and I hate being the cause of it most of the time.

"Did you come here to yell at me?" Dallas asks.

"Of course not." I say, looking at the floor, not daring to look his way.

"Then what do you want? Because I see this as a waste of time." He says, raising his voice a little. Usually, he says stuff like that, but doesn't mean it to be rude. Right now, I can tell he is angry with me. I try my best not to say anything about his attitude because if we started another argument I couldn't handle it.

"I just want to apologize for always starting unnecessary arguments with you over the smallest things. " I say. I do realize he probably gives no craps about what I have to say, but I can't go on knowing I'm on Dally's list of people he doesn't like. He doesn't say anything so I continue speaking.

"I know you're probably mad at me, but I just want to say I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about? I'm not mad at you," he pauses, looking over at me, "this is the exact reason we even argue about stuff. You are so quick to assume things that aren't true." I scoff, but don't bother to make a comment. I've always been the person to say what's on my mind, even if it's at the wrong moment. When it comes to talking with Dallas, I've now learned it's better to keep your negative comments to yourself.

"Yeah I guess you're right. I probably should stop doing that, huh?" I say. He laughs at my statement, which is the last thing I expect him to do.

I look at him and smile. I honestly hope he's not lying about not being mad at me. We're best friends and I can't stand to see him have this hatred toward me. He can deny it all he wants, but I know deep down he does slightly hate me. I mean all I've been to him is a bother. I have always thought he's the one that needs to become more mature, but now I'm starting to think the opposite. Maybe I'm the immature one.

I stand up, the bed creaking as I do so. He looks up at me, then stands up also.

"So we're good?" I ask him.

"We're good."

—————

Here's the second part two months later 😬😬
Sorry about how short this is

-cca