Unlucky love

32- Face It

"Wake up Lils," Karlie shouts, annoyingly awake for this time in the morning. I roll over to discover what time it is. 6:05. Fabulous. She appears at the door, hair pulled back into a high ponytail, exercise gear in place. Her long legs have black Victoria's Secret workout pants on along with Nike running shoes. "Go away Karlie," I moan, turning my back on the chirpy model along with the idea of early morning exercise.
"You're coming to the gym with me whether you like it or not!" She throws the covers on the floor, freezing March air covering my body. I hear an evil laugh escape from her mouth as I crawl out of bed. The only clothes I have are the ones from shopping yesterday, which, luckily, otherwise I'd probably be going to the gym in jeans, includes workout gear from Victorias Secret which we visited briefly. Stepping out of the shorts I slept in, I pull out the crazy coloured pants and sigh. I'd much rather live in a one star hotel for a week than get up at six am to go to the gym.

Karlie is stretching on the floor of her front room, waiting for me to surface from the guest room. I'm dressed in the clothes I got yesterday and my high tops, I didn't bother with running shoes- I don't run. "Ready?" Karlie asks, leaping up and striding towards the front door.
"No," I mutter.
"What was that?" Karlie smirks, swinging her ponytail to face me.
"Yes- Karlie, I'm super ready," I mock squeal, putting on a high-pitched cheerleader from American movies voice. Karlie rolls her eyes, opening the door with a gusto I only possess when experiencing sexual encounters and I'm almost knocked off my feet by the frigid temperature. I don't think I've ever wanted to be in bed so much.

The gym is a private one, Karlie's a regular. Standing in the changing room in her sports bra telling me what to we're going to do, Karlie isn't Karlie anymore, she's this feisty blonde with a serious attitude problem. "We're boxing, or at least, I'm teaching you how to, then sit ups e.t.c. Then weights, then an exercise class for half an hour."
"Can I just do the boxing," I moan, sitting on the only bench in the small, private locker area. Karlie grunts in frustration at my lack of motivation. "We're doing this for you," she says.
"I'm not really sure how that works," I retort. "I could've stayed in bed."
"I was reading that people take emotion out on exercise, thought it might work for you," Karlie shrugs, putting her towel for afterwards in the locker and spraying deodorant all over long body. That makes me laugh. "Karlie I have, like, no emotion!"
"Just give it one chance," Karlie begs, throwing the deodorant in with her bag and slamming the locker shut. She only has her phone, ready to play through the sound system whilst we're boxing, or at least, Karlie is. "It's five minutes until we're due in, so relax."
"Five minutes of pleasure," I giggle, earning a slap from Karlie who's scrolling through her Instagram. Sitting and watching her is like watching me typing emojis. The same facial expressions in different orders. Smile- frown- laugh- devilish grin- gasp. Yes, Karlie's last emotion was a gasp, not one of pleasure, one of shock. "What?" I demand, assuming something bad is happening. Karlie holds up her hand, fingers on the other hand flying across the screen. "Lils," she starts, green eyes wide as she looks at me. "Cara is here, with Taylor, like right now."
"Can I talk to her?"
"We don't think it's for the best, she's still angry. Taylor says she was crying at about 5am this morning." Standing up, I walk over to Karlie so I can see her screen. It's just a tweet. GYM @TAYLORSWIFT13.
Cara's been on Twitter, quite actively, which is upsetting. Her tweets are sad, all the emotion from yesterday and all through the night by the looks of things, have been fed into Twitter. IDEK ANYMORE.

WISH ID KNOWN.

AM I THAT BAD?

And the final one- SAY YOU LOVE ME

"I do love you Cara," I whisper to myself, a single tear sneaking down my face. Karlie's looking at me in concern, still holding her iPhone tightly. Collapsing back onto the hard bench, I bury my face in my arms, letting out some of the emotion that I've been holding for a while. Karlie didn't hear me, but last night at about 2am I was crying on the sofa, watching the weather, waiting for a text or something from Cara. The strange thing was I didn't even think to call Cara, even though my phone was lying, beckoning me, free for me to use. I think it's because they told me not to- Cara needs space. "Let's go then," I decide, "back to yours like." Starting to pack, I'm stopped by Karlie with an angry look on her face now. "No, if we meet her, you face it like the adult you are, if we don't, well that's all ok!"
"Please," I pout, puppy eyes coming out. Karlie just laughs, pulling me out into the corridor and locking the door behind her. The corridor is long, huge, light rooms falling off it at intervals, vending machines full of healthy things marking the only place where you can rest. (Of course, that isn't official, it's just the truth). My long legged friend is humming one of Taylor's songs under her breath, checking the timetable in her hand to see which torture chamber we're in. Along the corridor, a bang punctuates the silence. I see familiar blonde waves backing out of another studio, talking excitedly to another girl with an all too familiar English accent. Karlie's green eyes dart up in shock (and pleasure at the thought of finally seeing Taylor finally). Just as she grabs my arm to start the brisk walk up to Studio 4, we both hear a loud cuss from Cara. She's standing, posture guarded, staring at us both. I can see the shock from here, at least 20 metres away, eyes wide. My defence mechanism is kicking in, my brain telling my body to run, ignoring my heart, who wants to go up to Cara and beg for forgiveness. I'm running towards the exit, towards the busy pavements of day time New York.