Fuck it.
Fuck it all.
Fuck trying, fuck James, and fuck everything.
Me? Selfish?
I finally open up about feeling lonely for the first time, and James has the cheek to call me selfish. Well. Just because he's lonely doesn't mean nobody else can be.
I need out of this house. I need a walk.
I lace up my oxblood Docs, (with yellow laces of course), pull on my Clash hoodie and head out.
I find myself wanting to go into town, which is a darn shame considering I've no money, so I walk the hour walk.
I head to the McDonald's where everyone usually loiters, and a familiar face walks by.
Well, I say face. I wasn't looking at his face.
Dean had a nice bum. Even when I was together with he-who-shall-remain-nameless, I could never help but take a little peak at his behind in those bleached jeans. Heh.
I was lost in my own fantasy Deanworld when a familiar voice struck my ears.
"Aiight, wee yin, long time eh?"
"Glen!"
I was so pleased at the sight of the bomber jacket-clad figure hovering over me. I rushed into his arms without a second thought, the comforting smell of tobacco and alcohol surrounding me.
"I've worried about you doll, how've you been? And why you here alone?"
"Well, apparently my friends aren't up for being my friends, so I went a wee lonely emo walk and ended up here", I droned.
"Well that's shite. 'Mon with us, catch a drink eh? We're away down-"
He was interrupted by another familiar voice, as Dean smashed his face against Glen's, drunkenly protesting "We're twiiiiinssss, and I'm the hot one!"
"Dean, you're two years younger than me, you utter bin lid."
"Shhhhhhh, don't tell her!" Obviously alcohol was Dean's specialty tonight.
I took a cigarette from the battered packet Glen held out, and sparked up my lighter.
Damn, it's been ages since I had a smoke.
Tobacco isn't my first choice of smoking materials, but ever since I broke up with Whatshisface my weed supply has dropped drastically.
I felt a hand slip around my waist and I looked up to see Dean half standing half wobbling above me.
"So, how old are you sweetheart?" he grinned.
"14, well, 15 in three weeks."
"Fuck me! You don't look 14! You look hotttt!"
By this point we had started walking towards the quieter end of town, me, Dean, Glen, and a few others.
"I have to say I agree with Dean," Glen joined in. "You're bait for the jail.
Fuck it, I'd go to jail smiling if I'm being honest."
I didn't expect anything less from the 19 year old skinhead. If anything, I was happy he was openly honest that way. He wasn't as straight to the point as his drunken counterpart though, as I felt Dean's hand slide down below my back.
A few drinks later, I decided to head. After tapping a pound from some chick I mildly recognized from school, I went to climb out of the scaffolding in which we drank.
Not before, Dean grabbed me and kissed me.
Welp, that's just great. I've just kissed my exes enemy the first day I've met him.
Although, being honest, I can't say I'm complaining...
