MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds he...
"Sorrow in my soul 'cause it seems that wrong, really loves my company..." ♫ Unfaithful by Rihanna.
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"Hey Zayn, it's me, Cherry. I know it's late in New York, but I was just calling to invite you and Harlow to my mom's funeral on Friday, the 13th of February. It's the day you guys get back, or the day Harlow said you'd be back by? I tried to schedule it for a later date but the florist, the church, and the funeral parlor are giving me scheduling issues so I had to settle for soon, or else it wouldn't be until next Christmas. I know it's the lamest invite ever and it'll be pretty boring, but I'd appreciate it if you both could come. I texted you the formal invite with what to wear and the time and whatnot, but don't worry about rsvp-ing. Just come if you can... I um, I miss you both a lot and I hope everything's going great where you are. Tell Harlow I said what's up, and I'll talk to you later. Bye."
The second the voicemail was finished, Zayn slammed his phone on the counter and snatched my spoon out of my hand mid-bite, flinging some cereal and milk all over Cosette's shiny kitchen counters, "What the fuck did you do?"
I blinked, disregarding his comment, "Did she fuckin' say, 'Tell Harlow I said 'what's up?' She's never uttered the words 'what's up' in her life, replay it. That is just atrocious!--"
Zayn slapped my hand when I reached for his phone, "Did you tell Cherry we'd be back to Chicago in a week?"
"No."
Zayn clenched his jaw in a warning.
I reached and snatched the spoon, "I didn't tell her. I..." I sighed, "I promised her."
"You what?" He raised his voice.
"Hey! Shut up. It's too goddamn early to be yelling. Inside fucking voices in my house." Cosette came out from her room in a shower robe, scowling at Zayn with annoyance, "What the hell is going on?"
"None of your business that's for damn sure," I murmured, taking a bite of my cereal.
Cosette paused in front of her fridge to put her hand on her hip and sass me, "Those are my Frosted Flakes you're eating, you do realize that, right? I could physically throw you out and leave you starving if I wanted to. Let me know, and I'll say the word, Harlow."
"I wish you would, they're kinda stale. I could find better breakfast in a dumpster behind a Burger King." I spat out the bite of cereal and pushed the bowl forward, "Don't act like you're doing me any favors by offering me the food you let rot in your pantry because it's 'so unhealthy and full of carbs'." I mocked her voice in a shrill tone.
She rolled her eyes but continued to get her fresh fruits from her fancy fridge and use her fancy blender to make a smoothie. She did it every morning I'd been there. She woke up, showered, made a smoothie obnoxiously loud, got dressed, and went to work. It was like watching a damn robot trying to simulate human existence. Depressing as fuck.
