Enemies

16. "Fuck Off."

At the time of writing this I am severely dehydrated and have sinus congestion, therefore, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't the best.

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Gillian's POV

Courtney and I left Gia's house this morning not on the best of terms.

It all started last night when Courtney and I were going to bed, but Gia being Gia only left one blanket down there.

I didn't mind this too much though it was absolutely freezing and the blanket provided was a small and thin throw blanket.

Courtney, however, threw a complete tantrum about this which I was somehow able to ease her out of. Her calmness did not last very long as when we tried getting underneath the blanket Courtney hogged all of it, which was not much.

I voiced my annoyance with her doing this, but with Courtney being Courtney all that was in her head was herself.

This later elicited an argument between the two of us, resulting in the two of us sitting on two opposite sides of the room as far away from each other as possible.

I'm just so confused by all of this...

The raging hangover isn't helping either.

Courtney presses her soft lips to my own lips. I do not miss a beat, reciprocating the kiss as if it were second nature to me.

A pained groan falls from my lips at this not-so-subtle reminder of the events that occurred last night.

I try my best to force these thoughts away to the back of my mind as I focus my attention back on the novel that rests in my shaking hands.

Courtney's delicate, manicured hands leave the large inanimate object above us as they instead move down to grasp ahold of my hips in a desperate yet tight grip. The tips of her fingernails dig into the soft, exposed flesh of my exposed hips.

The way that she pulls my body to hers is oddly possessive. As if she is trying to communicate with me nonverbally by only using her body.

I lower my book from my vision, giving up on my underlying interest to finish this book.

Clearly I'm not going to be getting anything productive done today.

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Courtney's POV

The pads of my fingers slowly rub the temples of my forehead in large circular motions, my thumbs resting off to the side of my eyes.

I should have taken a fucking Percocet.

Between the bright fluorescent lighting, the yelling teachers, and my pounding headache I swear that I am two seconds away from stabbing the first person that I lay eyes on.

"Yo, babe! We need to talk."

Speaking of stabbing someone...

"Fuck off." I mumble, not opening my eyes.

Noel ignores my demand, pulling a chair out from under-neath the lunch table that I am sat at and plopping down into said chair.

I physically feel my headache intensify the moment the metal legs of the chair scrape against the tan cobblestone underneath us.

"I am two seconds away from stabbing you in the eye with a plastic spork."

"We need to talk." He ignores me.

"What could you possibly say to me to stop me from impairing your vision?" I question.

"I want to break up."