The Good Girl's Property

8. "I Guess it was My Turn to Get Played."

SORRY FOR THE ENDING OF THAT LAST CHAPTER AND I DON'T WANNA KILL THE SUSPENSE TO SAY IF THEY DID THE NASTY OR NOT

SO, AS PROMISED, THE BREAK UP IN DREW'S POV. 

By the way, this is one of TWO Drew's point of views you'll get. The second one will be after this book is done. AND WHOA TWO ATL SONGS IN A ROW???? DAMN GIRLLLL

b t dubbs there won't be the complete break up dialogue bc drew won't know what he's doing//thinking through a lot okok

NOT EDITED

When I wake up

The dream isn't done

I wanna see your face and know I made it home.

If nothing is true

What more can I do?

I am still painting flowers for you.

(Painting Flowers - All Time Low)

DREW'S POINT OF VIEW

"We need to break up."

Dylan's voice is an inch tall, squeaky even, and I can compare it to the

breathless noise that was her voice the night she first told me she loved me.

But, even then, I don't really want to hear her words. They scare me. Hurt me.

It's just too much to think, too much to try to figure out.

For the longest time, I thought I was invincible. I thought I could go through girl after girl, no repercussions, no feelings, no compunction. Until I saw her. Until I saw Dylan.

It wasn't one of those storybook, oh how beautiful moments every fucking guy seems to have, no, it was not. I saw her in the hall. I thought she was pretty damn cute. All I wanted was an excuse to talk to her. I knew we wouldn't go as far as a one night stand, I didn't really like trying my moves on virgins - they were super clingy, the kind to make breakfast for you in the morning.

But Dylan...

I took her camera. Dick move, yeah, I know. But she seemed so cool and the sass that she dealt was fucking phenomenal. The way her eyes blazed as she threw petty "your mom" jokes at me, hell yeah, I was hooked. She was a drug

and I was selling my shoes to pay it off.

Not the best metaphor, I'll admit.

I loved joking with her. I loved catching her eye in the middle of class. Hell, I

even loved the one day in PE where she kicked my ass in hurdles - I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, and I tripped over one before slamming face-forward

into another one.

All I can do now is stare at her, making nonsensical sounds that could be words, could be screams, could be pleads for her to stay. All I know is that it hurts, my heart fucking hurts, and I don't know what to do.

I barely have time to reach out to her fleeing body as she whips herself out of the room, around the corner and out of my sight.

I don't want to be the pessimist and think, out of my life, but that small part of me, the one part that always hissed the insecurity that I was never enough for Dylan, says that. All I can think is oh my God, she's really gone. No more waking up to messy hair and sparkling dark eyes, no more brushing my fingers across her cheek in an attempt to say I'm sorry, no more getting my ass kicked at Monopoly.