So I Heard You're A Player [On Hold]

So I Heard You're A Player: Once A Player, Always A Player,You'll Never Change

I was working at my brand new job at Starbucks, I was behind the counter taking peoples' orders. This job was pretty fun, I have to admit. You sometimes serve cheerful, kind people. While other days, you serve people who really need their afternoon coffee.

"Next!" I said, as I watched the previous costumer, who had long blonde hair and had a cute persona to her. She kind of reminded me of Vanessa, when she ate too much candy.

I looked up to see who it was, and it was Dylan. The last person I wanted to see right now, actually, I really wouldn't mind if he got burned on the face by coffee and had to get rushed to the hospital right now. My face tightened as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Your order?" I said with biter.

"Healy, please, let me explain." He begged, with those desperate light brown eyes. If I wasn't so pissed, I'd probably would hug him and act like it never happened. But now, I'm pissed to the extreme, and ask anybody, I can hold the longest grudges on people. He's been coming here often, and I would be lying if I said it didn't get on my nerves.

"No, what do you want to order?" I said sternly, mentally asking when he was going to leave. I glanced at him for a second, he looked horrible. Sorry to admit it, his hair was all messed up in a messed up way. Not that purposely messed up way. His eyes looked puffed up and red; as if he has been crying, plus to mention the huge dark circles under his eyes. Probably lost some sleep. My heart wanted to forgive him; while my mind had its own way of looking at things. As much as I was mad at him, I couldn't bear to see him like that. I wanted to slap myself for doing this, but I had too. "Ricky! I'm going on my break!" I shouted to my boss, Ricky. Ricky nodded at me, then gave a curious glance at Dylan. Ricky was a tall guy, in his late 20s, he was built and looks like he's been in the U.S Navy. He looks like a tough, mean guy. But he's such a softie at heart. He was here to witness everything that went down with Dylan and I. I pulled my apron over my head and put it on the hook and turned to Dylan. "Ten minutes, that's it." I said seriously, hiding the pure sympanthy in my voice that was dying to come out.

It was a few weeks ago when this happened. You're probably confused on why I would be mad at Dylan, well let me update you since Friday, the golden kiss, my first kiss. I pratically ran home, extatic, had that feeling of butterflies in my stomach. My hands were shaky, and that feeling in my stomach didn't go away the whole night. Plus, to mention how my father pointed out that I had a goofy smile on my face the whole time,

I thought everything was going to start off perfect, you know? Have the golden kiss to seal the deal, but I was wrong. Dead wrong, wronger than wrong. For the entire weekend, he hadn't called me once, texted me, visited me or anything. Made no effort to commicate with me; so I tried to call him a couple of times, no answer. At first I thought he was busy with something, trying to not jump to conclusions. Eventually, it flew away from my mind. My family has always told me that I've always brushed off things that there's no point in worrying about it.

On Sunday, Vanessa dragged me over to Starbucks to help me get a job. My parents gave me a lecture on how I should start owning my own money, learn responsibility. I spent hours looking in Newspapers, calling, and I found nothing. I was just about ready to give up and face another brutal lectuer from my parents until Vanessa found a "Help Wanted" sign at Starbucks.

We didn't know until we got there, that some serious stuff was going to go down. And no, not with the job, with Dylan. Dylan the guy who ignored me ever since Friday.

And who was with Dylan that day? The one and only girl, Lilac. Vanessa at first thought I was overreacting, since we were looking through the Starbucks window, not the smartest place to spy on a guy. I eventually was getting tired of the spying, and was demanding answers. I got up, dusted off my jeans and went inside. Dylan turned to me, and I remember his eyes bewildered, with an expression on panic and regret. A expression I haven't forgotten since then.