My Girl | Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Chapter Three - Patsy Cline

**Chapter Warnings**

Triggering content including, misogynists, sexists, and racists. Y/N is NOT involved or okay with it.

Additional content warning, drinking, and foul language. ANGST! Over thinking, and irrational thinking. This chapter is an emotional roller coaster. It does set up the rest of the story. But do not read if you are in a fragile state. 

Vibes: Literally ANY of Patsy Cline's Greatest Hits but specifically, I Fall To Pieces feat. The Jordanaires

Enjoy!

~

The word "hurt" wasn't remotely the best word to define how you felt as you walked to your car that night. It didn't even come close.

The way Flip looked down at his boots and tossed his keys into the air before swiveling around and walking to his driver's side made you want to evaporate into thin air. In that moment, you wished you had never met Flip Zimmerman.

~

It had been 2 days since that night. Now, as you laid in the bath turning into a raisin and drinking the last drops of the good wine, you couldn't stop replaying it over and over in your head. The cuffs, the flannel, his fingers, even fucking Jerry.

"Fuck you, Jerry," you grumbled.

You tipped the wine bottle against your lips only to be highly disappointed when nothing came out. You had intended on saving that wine for something good. A promotion, marriage, maybe even a stinky baby... But, a resignation could be celebrated too, right?

You had thought it over for a few days, time and time again. The only solution was to resign. You decided you were going to put in your two-week notice the next morning and find work elsewhere. And if all else failed, you had an uncle that would take you in until you could get back on your feet...

"Fuck!" you groaned again, cursing Flip Zimmerman and his toxic ability to get under your skin to the point of resigning.

The truth was he and you would never get it right and you had to move on. So, you'd start tonight.

You jumped out of the tub, wrapped your robe around yourself, and cranked the Patsy Cline record that was spinning on your record player up to full volume. You pranced around your small bedroom getting ready for a night out.

You would forget about Flip tonight. You were going to go out and find yourself a real man you could love, if only for the night...

Taking one last glance at yourself in the rearview mirror, you hopped out of your car and entered the only bar you knew cops didn't frequent, meaning it likely wouldn't be infested with the presence of Flip Zimmerman.

"What can I get you?" A young woman behind the bar asked as you sat down on the red stool.

"Oh, uh, just a vodka soda with some limes. Thanks."

The bar was relatively empty, only a few men in the back huddled around plus a few drunks at the bar. The seemingly only good company you had was the bartender. You instantly regretted ever leaving your home.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." You pulled your drink to your lips.

"What are you drinking little lady?" A drunk man plopped down next to you, eyeing your drink and nearly everything else about you. It made your skin crawl and your wine-filled stomach turn. Whose great idea was it to go out tonight? Any luck of having a good time was looking very, very slim.