The Break Up Pact

Chapter 2

Sebastian Diaz was an ass. There was no debating it – that's what he was. One big annoying asshole.

And before you come at me, saying 'oh Phoebe you're being way too harsh, I'm sure he's not that bad,' I'd just like to assure you that he truly is that bad. He was annoying in every sense of the word. Even his name annoyed me.

The name Sebastian was supposed to belong to the cute little Jamaican crab from 'The little mermaid', not this asshole. He'd ruined it, just like he seemed to ruin everything. Now to top it all off, he'd flashed me his junk and permanently traumatized me. And even worse, had the audacity to claim that it was my fault.

Now, you may wonder how I'd developed such a hatred for him. And the answer to such lies all the way back in elementary school and late middle school when we used to be friends. And back then, he was actually, alright. He was just the funny shy kid whose family had just immigrated in from Brazil. We laughed and chatted together, played tag, and even shared our lunch boxes a couple of times. It was the ideal, elementary to middle school friendship really.

Then, out of nowhere, on one random Monday of eighth grade, he'd just flat-out stopped talking to me. There was no argument, no confrontation, no explanation leading up to it; nothing. He just stopped being my friend and started being my number one hater. He no longer was the sweet thirteen-year-old best friend that I knew, and instead became a monster.

He started teasing me, making jabs at me in class, flicking blasted elastic bands in my hair, and just generally, going out of his way, to make my life as uncomfortable as he possibly could.

Now, four years had gone past, and he was still as annoying as ever. The only solace I had, was that the frequency in which we interacted had significantly reduced over the years. We tended to keep apart, only throwing the occasional jabs at each other where we could. It was safer for everyone that way.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I re-firmed my grip on my steering wheel and tried my best to block any more horrific thoughts of Sebastian Diaz from tainting my head.

As the familiar gates of my house came into view, I slowed my car down and waited for the sensor to recognize my number plate. Soon enough the gates, let out a satisfying beep before slowly sliding open my gates.

Okay, fine before you judge me for having my fancy rich girl gates, I'd just like to assure you that I'm not spoilt.

Well, fine I'm not extremely spoilt... just a modest amount of spoilt. But I'm sorry if your dad bought you a brand-new white Mercedes-Benz for your birthday, I'd like to see you refuse.

Pulling my car into the parking space beside my brother's jeep, I parked it up before trudging my way through the gravelled driveway and up to my house.

Opening the door, I swung my keys lazily into the glass bowl by the door before wandering off in the direction of the kitchen.

Turning around the corner, I found my older brother, Max, busily chopping away greens on one of the kitchen islands. Like usual, he had a red bandana wrapped underneath his hairline, leaving strands of his short, twisted black locks, to fall out over top. He'd claimed it was 'fashion', but if you asked me, he looked like a black Justin Bieber.

"Sup, Max," I called out to gain his attention. His head lifted in surprise, and once he noticed it was me, his face lit up.

"Hey, Phoebs. How's it crack-a-lacking? How's it cruising? How's it be doing? How's-"

I raised a hand to silence him. "Brother, love you, but no," I smiled. His mouth pulled down into a pout, but he thankfully stopped going.

Hopping up onto the bar stool, I reached out for the fruit bowl before popping a single grape into my mouth. Raising a polite hand to my mouth, I swung my chair around to face him. "Have you got any letters from Mum and Dad," I mumbled in between chews.