Four: Quick To Anger

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Jade

It's so easy to sit here across from Tori, it's almost embarrassing. She's talking about something Trina did when they were kids and gripping her coffee mug between both of her hands. I look down at my own coffee and try and focus on the ripple of the waves every time the cup is slightly moved. It isn't fair the way she so easily enraptures my attention, the way shes always been able to. It's especially not fair that even now, as I force myself to look away from her and tune her out, I'm only thinking about her.

I can hear her voice, the inflections and the rasp that still has yet to fade from her over exertion from last night, speaking loudly over people and singing along to the music. It's so uniquely her, the way she speaks. It's so easy to get lost in it, it's as simple as that. Her voice isn't like mine, or Cat's, or Robbie's, or Andre's, and definitely not like Beck's. Her voice is so distinctly Tori. That's why I can't help but pay attention and listen. But it just isn't fair the way what she says falls onto deaf ears, yet the way she speaks is nothing but magnified. It doesn't make sense, and it is by no means fair in any sense of the word.

My fingers tap on the table as she speaks and speaks. Truly, I have no issue with her carrying the whole conversation. I wouldn't complain if it was anybody else. But I have to remind myself that this is Tori Vega, and I can't just allow her to get away with something even as trivial as rambling.

"Okay Solipsist," I cut her off, "you're not actually the only person in this world."

I look up at her and see that her cheeks have sprouted a soft red color, her lips closed tightly until she carefully brings her coffee up to her lips to take a long sip.

"Sorry, I know I can drone on." She sets the mug down and wipes at her upper lip with her forearm. I roll my eyes and don't reply, opting to take a sip from my own cup.

It's silent now and I find myself regretting interrupting her. The hum of the coffee shop around us isn't quite enough to fill the space Tori's faltered speech creates. I don't know why she didn't just keep talking. Who cares what I say? Why does she resist me so hard sometimes and give in so easily with me other times? Had it been anybody else who said that to her I have no doubt in my mind she would've glared at them and kept on speaking, or asked them a question in a sarcastic tone like, 'Well how was your day?' I snort at the thought before I can help it.

She glances up at me and raises an eyebrow but I just shake my head, refusing to enlighten her on the fact that I'm currently spending my time thinking about her speaking rather than prompting her to actually do it.

We sit there for the next fifteen minutes absolutely soundless as we finish our coffee. Exchanging a knowledgeable glance of being done we stand up and make our way out the door. Her body trails silently behind me but I feel as if I can hear every movement. I'm so hyper aware of her presence at my back that I have to stop and step to the side, allowing her to walk next to me instead.

We slide into my car and head back to Tori's house. The quiet is painfully awkward at this point and I curse the day I was born because of it. I try to drown it out with radio but it just doesn't seem to go away; the weight of the unsaid words.

"Look, Tori—" I begin to speak

"Ha!" She exclaims loudly as she shoots me a grin.

Utter confusion washes over me and I look at her like she lost her damn mind, which she very well could have.

"You spoke first, I win," she is triumphant.

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