❝WHO SAYS THAT WE HAVE TO LIVE
our youth recklessly? i'm fine
living my own way. i don't have
to dance on tables or dye my
hair crazy colors to prove
i'm young and living life
to the fullest.❞
𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠�...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
Back at the shoppe, Colette decided to come around every day for the next two weeks. They hadn't known each other for a while, but she figured that the Morning Glory was the only place she could seek solace.
Truth be told, George was unsure if he wanted her to be alone in the state she was in.
'Murderous' would be too tame of a word to describe the glowing look in the lilac girl's emerald eyes. Every time George would make the mistake of even beginning to say John's name, Colette would throw him a look that shut him up right away.
Trying to beat around the ginormous bush they were avoiding, George let his mind roam back to Briar. No, he didn't know all that much about her, but George figured that people used to get married knowing less than that. He was in good standing, he thought.
"I should have known," Colette was chanting again. "Why am I the biggest asshole in the world? Obviously he was fucking around behind my back -- it was so obvious."
Something in that sentence caught George.
Frowning at her with his brown eyes scanning her face, he tried to calm her down for the tenth time in the past seven minutes. "Colette, there was no way you could know that John was -- how did you put it again?"
Her reply was sudden. "'Fucking around behind my back.'"
"Right." George agreed.
She sighed, shaking her head and ambling towards him. Reaching out and pinching his cheeks, Colette began talking down to him.
"Sweet little Gregorio," he blinked. "You don't understand."
"Why do you always do that? Why the hell are you always talking down to me? You don't have to come here, Colette." the brown-eyed boy jolted away from her touch and glared daggers at her.
That clearly struck a nerve.
Clenching her jaw, she replied. "What's gotten into you lately? First, you hardly talk to me at the after party, and now --"
"I hardly talked to you?" he was outraged. "No, Colette. You abandoned me. I sat on John's nasty couch all night and was on my phone. At least I was until someone -- who wasn't you -- came up and began talking to me."
As he spoke, his voice rose and rose in volume until he felt himself shouting. He didn't know why, other than that he had to because it was calming in some sick, twisted sort of way.
