Rocketship

Chapter Thirteen: Cheater, Cheater.

Marci's POV:

"Very interesting, Drew" was all I had to say about the garish painting staring back at me.

"Thank you," she sounded utterly pleased with herself.

Drew had invited me to an art exhibit at a gallery downtown (one of her painting was being showcased). And although her style of artwork was not quite my taste, she was my friend, and I supported her regardless.

I'll admit that she had an odd way of showing her affection, but we had been friends for almost 5 years, in fact she was my first roommate when I lived in the UCLA freshman dorms — she was kind of a bitch at first (well, she's always kind of a bitch), and it took me awhile to get used to her quirks, but she really looked out for me that year — I was like a stray cat she decided to take in, and we had been friends ever since.

I was honestly surprised that Drew had invited me to tag along in the first place; she tended to separate her home life (which included me) from her "social life" and "artist life." Even though she often wore a front and pretended not to care about what other people thought of her, I had a feeling that she still secretly wanted our approval, which is why I gladly accepted her invitation.

We took one final lap around the gallery, then decided to head out.

When we got home, I was surprised to find an all too familiar Rolls Royce parked in the driveway. What is Stephan doing here?

Drew pretended to gag herself. "Ugh what is he doing here?" she whined.

I rolled my eyes at her theatrics. God, and to think she called me dramatic.

"I don't know... Maybe he wants to apologize in person? We kinda got into a fight the other night after he talked to Heidi."

Flash back...

"Ever since you started that job, you hardly ever make time for me anymore," Stephan complained, sounding like a broken record. It was the same argument with him every week — you're too busy, you don't care about me anymore, blah blah blah. I truly felt bad that he was having a hard time adjusting to my new schedule, but we had been over this several times and my patience was starting to wear.

"I'm sorry that I can't be unemployed and spend more time with you like I used to, okay?" There was quite literally nothing else I could say.

"Of course you can, but you're too proud to let me take care of you."

I took the phone away from my ear, not wanting to even respond to his last comment. I couldn't stand to hear another plea to accept his charity. I stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, then brought the phone back to my ear. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want your money? I don't want your money Stephan," I said flatly. "Why - why can't you just be happy that I have a job that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out?"

Stephan scoffed on the other line, and I rolled my eyes. "Well, Marci I don't like feeling like I'm in a long distance relationship when we live in the same fucking city. Ever think of that? Huh? I - I think I deserve more respect as your boyfriend. There, I said it," he finished, smugly, or at least he thought he sounded smug. He actually just sounded like a rambling idiot.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in annoyance. "What does this have anything to do with respect? I'm busy because I'm working, that's literally it." Plain and simple.

"I don't know Marci," he sounded flustered. "but can you think of it from my perspective? How am I supposed to feel when you're spending every day with another guy?"