What Hurts The Most [Austin Mahone Fan Fiction]

What Hurts The Most: Number 5

What Hurts The Most: Number 5

            “So I heard that you were going to be on a date with Austin,” Reagan asked in our free period, smiling at me.

          “I wouldn’t really call it a date,” I said, turning away from her and putting my hair up in a tight high ponytail.

          “Its totally a date; even if you don’t agree with me, it’s a date,” she smiled at me through the wall mirror.

          I didn’t roll my eyes at her, so I smiled a tight smile at her, a small groan escaping my mouth; as long as I’m ‘dating’ Austin, she’d be all around me, and too clingy! Gosh, I already sound a weird ‘girlfriend’ and I’m not even dating Austin, nor plan on doing it right now.

          “Text me the deats about the date once you’re done with Austin,” she giggled, and left the room.

          Ugh, she actually had the whole male population of the school wanting her? Gosh, I’m glad Tyler, Zach, Alex and Robert aren’t part of that male population trying to get in bed with Reagan.

          “Claire, loosen up,” my teacher instructed me, before I began everything again, and nailed it with all my life.

          “You know mom is still going to do the picture shoot,” Robert nudged my shoulder after school.

          “Har-har, you’re hysterical, I’m currently dying of laughter!” I rolled my eyes.

          “That was pretty funny though,” he winked at me.

          By now, we were seating in the car, listening to music.

          “Yeah, funnier than when you actually thought that thunder storms were Zeus’s ways of saying he was ‘having fun in his life’ and literally flew to New York, and that didn’t go on any better.” I chuckled.

          “Shut up,” he mumbled.

          “Or,” I exclaimed, “when I glued my hair extensions to your beanie.”

          “Shut up,” he gave me a look, like he was getting pissed.

          “Little brother, don’t worry, big sister is here for the rescue,” I winked at him.

          “I’m seriously going to trash your car if you keep it up,” he said, stepping harder on the gas pedal.

          “Oh you wouldn’t, I heard daddy got the best insurance for that SUV, so you’ll be charged and might go to jail, so I wouldn’t dare.” I stated, smiling.

          I could tell he rolled his eyes, since he was quite. That was usually him: either say something back or roll his eyes.

          “I’m so excited,” I said once we walked up to the salesman; we already got the money from when we sold my other car, so I’m going to use it for gas and other things I might need for the SUV.

          “I’m going to brag to the whole school about this.” He chuckled.

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What Hurts The Most

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          “I’m driving my SUV; I’m driving an SUV; I have my own SUV; I’m singing in my SUV,” I sang while driving around the neighborhood-slash-city. It was pretty cool; I could go to Starbucks whenever I wanted too without having Robert drive me or say ‘No.’ I was like, Beyonce right; all my single ladies, all my single ladies, all my single ladies, drive a SUV.