ILTHY | l.p.

1 | all-american bitch

CHAPTER ONE
❛ 𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝘁𝘄𝗼, 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲...
𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝘂𝗺𝘀? ❜
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[ y/n ]

Having standards isn't bad at all. And having them high isn't a crime. I mean, is it my fault that most of the men I've ever come across are actually crap?

I mean, sure. Boys, men, and assholes had come and gone in my life of seventeen years of existence. Either they leave or I do. There's really no in-between.

Well.

There might be one.

But it is completely out of my control.

There is this one boy I can never avoid, and he can never ignore me either. That one guy who had actually seen me from wearing diapers to those powder puff princess dresses and now jeans and crop tops—the one who knew me long enough to despise me and the one I knew long enough to hate him back for it.

His stupid brown, lushed hair, perfect sculptured figure, and the charms of no other—his frustrating straight view of things and opinions are surprisingly hard to deny. He's so mannered, safe, judgmental, and just frustrating.

Louis Partridge sure does know how to keep a girl thinking about him.

"Uh, oh, what's gotten Drummy all grumpy again?" Samuel voiced out after pausing to play his electric guitar, fingers still stuck on the g-string chord. He had this knowing grin, nodding in my direction.

I hold back to roll my eyes at the nickname.

"Must be thinking of Michael, innit 'mate?" Felix added on with the same look, running his crummy fingers into his blonde hair. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. You're not the first girl to get broken by Mikey."

"I am not broken!" I cut him off with a glare and a huff, slamming my drumsticks on the base of the drum. "Besides, breaking up with him has been the best thing I've ever done in 6 months."

"Didn't he dump you?"

"I suggested the idea of breaking up, but he's the one who did it anyway." I grumble, knowing full well I was really just twisting the words. But still, I would never admit how a jackass had actually made me cry in bed all night and write sad songs about him. I will never admit that I had his hoodie and his pictures burned by the fireplace. No one will truly know how immature, petty, and hurt I was a week ago.

Lisa's head popped up behind the curtains of the school stage, her bobbing pink hair and nose and lip piercings being the first things I noticed. It's what really made her, her. And I admired that. "Suggesting breaking up with Michael? That's completely rubbish. Didn't you make that scrapbook all ready for his birthday?"

Michael left me exactly on his birthday. While I was carrying the paperbag with a perfectly wrapped box and the scrapbook, I worked for months in it. I burned that too.

"It's not important. I make scrapbooks for everyone." I brush it off, shrugging my shoulders as if it didn't bother me. It was half true anyway. I do have a scrapbook of my family, my friends, and apparently my now-ex-boyfriend.

"Oh yes! I do remember that. Don't we have, like, three?" Millie asked, her head popping up from the curtains too, taller than Lisa. Unlike the rest of us, Millie really isn't part of the band. She just usually comes here to hang out because of me, and also because she finds Sam cute. I pursue my lips together, nose scrunching up slightly to look like a frown. "We have four." I remind her.

"Four?" Millie repeats, finally leaving behind the curtain to approach me. "What's the fourth one?"

I frown deeper. "With Louis."

That one guy.

"You mean the one we made together when we were seven?" Her smile widened. "Do we even consider it one? I mean, it had only 2 pages and barely had pictures in them. It was a load of tosh, honestly. Plus, the designs are really off."

"That was because your brother wouldn't let me work in peace. He always had unimportant inputs and literally had a manual on how to make a scrapbook. I mean, really?" I scoff out loud, ignoring the laughs coming out of Sam and Felix. Or Lisa, who's texting someone on the corner.

"Louis likes everything under control."

"Doesn't give him the excuse to try to control me."

Millie shakes her head with an unamused snort. "God, you two never get along."

I don't argue because I know it's true. Instead, I turn back to my drums and pat my hand on the hi-hats to follow my intrusive thoughts. So many men had come and gone, but Louis had been the only one who stayed because he did not have a choice. I'm part of his life just as he is in mine too. Because just as much as we both couldn't stand being in the same room, we both love Millie.

"Alright then, shall we start on top?" Felix shifted in his place, fingers positioned on the right keys of the electronic keyboard piano. Lisa turned her phone off and walked towards the middle, grabbing the microphone that was on the floor. I caught a glimpse of Sam winking briefly at Millie as she let out a small giggle and sat by the side of the stage. It was cute. I loved knowing two of my friends were making each other happy, but at the same time, there was a sick, twisted part of me that was a bit jealous.

Because I had no Sam.

All I had were assholes like Michael.

"What song are you guys doing?" Millie asks, hugging her knees close to her chest.

Lisa exchanged shrugs with Felix but decided on it anyway. "How about the one recent one? The one Y/N wrote when she was drunk? That was wicked."

I pause. "I didn't write anything lately."

"Yes, you did," Sam quipped up, doing a cool-looking fingerstyle on his red electric guitar, grinning cheekily. "You did all-american bitch."

My mouth opened, then closed. I raise both my brows, then furrow them, twirling a stick in between my fingers. "I was kidding with that. The whole thing was a joke and unplanned. And plus, who even made all-american bitch as the title?"

"Sam did." Millie giggled, the sound sweet and calming in the ears. "And that's what makes the song good. It was unplanned. Made unseriously. It's so you."

I do not know how to feel.

"We all seriously agree on this?" I bite my lip, unsure. But that's not new. I've been unsure and practically indecisive my whole life—going with the flow until I have no absolute clue as to what the hell is going on. So maybe Millie does have a point. That is me.

"Why not? I think all-american bitch is perfect. We love you, Drummy. " Felix smiles, wrinkles appearing on the sides of his green eyes.

The corners of my mouth lifted up. My heart felt a little fuzzy knowing I wasn't exactly perfect, but these people accept me for who I am. I didn't really know how to express that in words, so I do scrapbooks and songs instead. No matter how messy my situation keeps getting, at least I know I'm not alone.

"You sneaky English fuckers." I cursed with a smile, and they all cheered, knowing they had won. A familiar guitar tune played in the background, and I chuckled, shaking my head.

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