Fat Girls Return

29. Disaster Area

Rosie's P.O.V

"I mean it Rosie, you have to promise not to say anything until I'm done."

Elle slouches in the bean bag chair by the window across from my bed, giving me a stern look as I pout.

I huff, crossing my arms, "Well, fine." I lower myself to sit cross legged on the floor across from her, leaning my back against the foot of my bed.

My eyes narrow as they meet hers, "Just as long as you promise this won't become a regular rule," I point a finger at her, "This is not how conversations between best friends are supposed to go."

Elle rolls her eyes. "It won't," she pauses, furrowing her eyebrows before she speaks again. "Well, unless there's-"

I cut her off with a frustrated sigh. "No!"

Elle takes in a deep breath as I crook an eyebrow, crossing my arms again.

"Never mind." She slides her hand down her face before meeting my gaze, "Just understand that if you bombard me with questions before I'm done telling you what happened, we will be here forever because I won't be able to stop myself from crying and because every question that you ask me will just lead to more questions so I'll never get to finish telling you."

I purse my lips as I realize she has a point about staying silent during a conversation as big as the one we're apparently about to have. Unwilling to admit that she's right, I open my mouth again.

"Fine. But stop calling it a 'conversation' if it's only going to be you who's talking." I smirk smugly. "A conversation is between two people," I say in an over exaggerated voice like I'm explaining something to a little kid.

Elle's right eye starts to twitch. "Do you want to know what happened or not?" Her voice sounds strained; she's resisting the urge to kill me.

Maybe I'll just push one more button...

"Only-" My voice cuts off as Elle shoots me a death glare. I smile nervously and spread my hands out to show that I'm ready to listen.

Elle sighs, probably wondering why she's friends with me.

"Okay," she breathes, psyching herself up to relive whatever happened. "Saturday night started out perfectly but then I started getting weird vibes from Brandon – which is normal," she looks up to meet my gaze.

She looks like a lost, little puppy. My heart squeezes in my chest.

I uncross my arms and lean forward to touch her hand reassuringly. Elle's lips curl slightly upwards in a sad smile as she continues.

"But then Peter started acting weird, too."

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Six hours later, Elle and I are sitting on the living room couch with tear-streaked faces, matching pajamas, and two big bowls of chocolate ice cream. In the past few hours, I'd dealt with so many different emotions my brain didn't know how to handle itself. I'd reacted strongly to everything Ellie told me.

I automatically wanted to 'aww' when Elle said Peter wrapped his jacket around her shoulders but the look on her face made me stop. My eyes rolled when she recounted Brandon's fat jokes. My lips pursed when they danced romantically – another spot I'd normally squeal or 'aww' but she didn't look happy when she was telling me. My eyebrows furrowed when Brandon came over to talk to her, and when he showed her the texts and she found out her relationship with Peter was based on a stupid bet, I couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"What?!" I'd thrown my hands up in the air, looking at her in complete astonishment.

Elle had nodded, allowing me that outburst. "I know," she said, "I was shocked, too."