pretty boy » flamingo

1 | decaffeinated coffee

"Finally," was the first thing I huffed when picking up the phone. She was supposed to call ten minutes ago and had conveniently ignored all seventeen of my texts and sixteen of my calls. 

But then again, is she really your best friend if she completely disregards every single one of your phone calls?

"We're outside! Where the hell are you?" On cue, a car outside honked, obviously for me. Rolling my eyes, I hung up without a goodbye.

I hauled my bag onto my shoulders and stuffed my phone into my pocket, swinging the door open. It was winter, and Orlando was experiencing a cold front, something that wasn't very common, so naturally I was shivering. Stepping out onto my porch, I shut the door and started walking down the sidewalk towards a familiar black jeep.

The car blared again as I approached it and I shouted, "Shut up! I'm coming!" With that, I opened the car door and settled in the front passenger's seat. The boy sitting next to me in the driver's spot was talking.

"Jesus, Lauren. We're already running late, no need to slow us down even more." Peyton, a boy with dirty-blonde hair and his usual brown trucker jacket, handed me a coffee. "If you spill this in my car, it'll be the last thing you do."

I gratefully accepted the coffee, cupping my frozen fingers around the warm cardboard of the cup. "Don't blame me. Finley was supposed to call."

A girl with dark hair poked her head out to us from the back seats. "My phone was dead."

"Then why's it at sixty-seven percent?" I pointed at her phone, which was laying in one of the cup-holders, charging.

"Shut it, you two. You're both the reason why we're late." Peyton backed out of my driveway and started down the road.

I rolled my eyes at the pair of them. We're all so different it's a miracle we're still friends. The three of us have been close since middle school, and it's safe to say we know more about each other than anyone else in our lives.

I took a sip of my coffee before spitting it out. The other two, who were still bickering, turned to me as I started coughing into my elbow.

"Lauren, that's disgusting."

"Decaf!" I cried out angrily, glaring sideways at Peyton, the brown liquid dripping from my mouth as I wiped it against my sleeve. "I said I wanted decaf!" Despite knowing everything about me, he still found ways to completely forget how I take my coffee.

"What? No, you didn't." He took a sharp left turn, which made me slam my head into the glass window and nearly overturn my cup.

"Yes, I did! And watch your driving!"

"I have to go with nerd-girl on this one," Finley said from the backseat, "She always takes it decaf. Dunno how, coffee without caffeine tastes like chalk."

"Coffee without caffeine tastes like a good night's sleep. Ever try that?"

"What kind of person doesn't like caffeine?"

"What kind of person relies on it to stay awake during the day?"

"Okay, look," Peyton interrupted us before it became a full-fledged debate (something he was obviously not ready for at only seven in the morning), "I'm sorry I got you with caffeine. Now, if you're not going to drink it, I will." He held his hand out expectedly, and I rolled my eyes again before giving him the cup.

"That's bad for you, y'know. Two coffees before school. Especially with all that sugary stuff."

"Yeah, Peyton." Finley stuck her head out again and said sarcastically, "You're probably gonna die."