Tell Me The Truth -H.S. AU

6

I finally answered one of Johnny's calls on Sunday.

I just wanted them to stop.

I know for a fact my mother was listening on the other line, so I put on a very sweet tone, not wanting to hear about my "attitude" from her. Johnny asked if he could take me out the following weekend and feeling cornered, I said yes. I don't really want to go, but my life doesn't seem to belong to me anymore.

So here I am, on this Friday night, sitting in front of my vanity finishing my makeup to go out with my piece of shit boyfriend. I don't know what I'm doing, but I don't know how to change any of it either. My mother came bouncing into my room this evening, like I'm getting ready to go to prom or something, and hands me a pink bag.

I'm wearing this new top that she bought me for my date with Johnny, staring at myself in the mirror, making sure I look pretty but not like I'm trying too hard. I don't feel like being called a whore tonight. I stamp some more concealer on the mostly healed cut still on my lip and shut off my lamp.

My hands are shaking from nerves, and probably because I haven't eaten anything all day, worried I'd throw it up. I sit on the edge of my bed and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. When I open my eyes, they land on Harry's jacket that he let me borrow on Saturday hanging off of my desk chair, that I've conveniently forgotten to give back.

I walk over and pick it up to drape over my shoulders, the smell of him still lingering and I inhale deeply. I feel my nerves settle for a moment as I wrap the denim around me. I wonder what he's doing right now.

I haven't seen him all week actually. For someone who said he has nothing better to do, he sure has been MIA. I'm not sure if his hours got switched around or if we just keep missing each other, but I find myself missing his smart ass comments and arrogant smirk.

I'm ripped from my thoughts when I hear Johnny's car pull up to my house. I take Harry's jacket off again, putting it back on the chair, all of my warmth going with it.

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Tonight was fine.

Johnny hasn't yelled at me or called me a slut, so that's something.

He took me to his favorite restaurant for dinner, talking the whole time about last weekends game and how I should've been there because he got four touchdowns, blah blah blah. I like football just fine. I like watching my brother play, but what I can't stand is Johnny showboating. At the after parties, he totes me around like I'm some trophy, groping me and slobbering all over me in front of his friends and I can't fucking stand it.

He asked me if I wanted to catch a movie after dinner, but I told him I had to get ahead on studying, even though my finals were on Monday. I definitely told him when my last tests were going to be, but he just nodded his head, not really listening to a thing I say, as usual.

His hand has been on my knee the whole drive back to my house, feeling like acid on my skin, like when he finally removes it from me there will be a burning red welt. His hand is slowly inching up my thigh to play with the hem of my skirt, but I keep shifting ever so slightly to move it back down.

We pull up to the curb outside of my house and he shuts the engine off, but doesn't move to get out, or take his hand off of me. In the darkness of the cab, I see him out of the corner of my eye turn towards me, and I slowly do the same.

"Violet," he says, his voice not sounding nearly as soothing as Harry's does. "I want to give you something."

"Oh-" I clear my throat, my voice sounding hoarse. "Okay?"