ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢

Chapter 2: Sebastian

Eliaah Lopez is the most annoying suck-up bitch I know. She's been hating me for the past four years. Staring daggers at me in the hallways, switching out of every single class we got put in together... I glance up from my messages and we catch each other's eyes for a split second across the bus and she winces, looking like she just passed a kidney stone. I roll my eyes and look back down at my phone.

Chris: practice at 5 today or no

Me: yeah

Me: lowk want to skip but coach is gonna beat me ass

Chris: me too

Chris: whatever

Chris: just hurry up I'm waiting

Me: shut up I'm coming

Me: I'm on the bus right now

Chris: oh shit with that creepy girl

Me: yeah lol

Me: ill be there in 10

-- read at 7:18 am--

I click my phone off and shove it in my pocket, my mind drifts. I have to come home after practice, take Lola for a walk... I should probably quiz Camila on her multiples of 11, she always gets stuck on those. Cam's friend's got a party tonight I said I'd go to and, even though usually after those kinds of parties I end up completely fucked up the next morning, in the bed of a girl I don't recognize, with a pounding headache and 25 missed calls from my mom, I'm kind of looking forward to tonight. It'll be a nice break. Since Audrey left for college my chores around the house had quadrupled and it blows. Thing after thing after thing and...

Fuck. I forgot to do the laundry this morning. I knock my head back against the plastic bar of my seat. It's fine, I already separated whites and colors this morning it'll be fine to do them when I get home tonight. The bus slows at my stop and I swing up leaning on the metal pole for support and throw my hood up against the onslaught of wind that comes rushing through the now-open doors. 

I step out onto the sidewalk and hustle to the Subway a couple blocks away from school. I get a sandwich every morning for lunch and at this point, it's starting to make up half the reason I even come to school. I swing open the door and it jingles quietly. Chris looks up at me.

"What's good, man," we exchange a quick dap

"I'm all good, I'm all good." I glance over at the large glass fridge behind Chris and grab a blue Gatorade. He follows me. I mutter my usual order to the glassy-eyed college kid behind the glass and plop down across from Chris while we wait.

"Oh, man I gotta tell you about what happened," He puts down his phone and looks up at me eagerly. He almost looks like a dog. A very large, slightly overfed, and mildly idiotic dog.

I look up at him, smiling slightly at how desperate he is to tell me. It would be kind of endearing if he wasn't so... the way he is . "Oh yeah? What's up?"

"So basically, we were all at the party just hanging out and shit and it was pretty full, you know Max's house is pretty big and Marty taps me on the shoulder. Guess who's going up the fucking stairs with Jackson?"