Surviving Us

Chapter 6

I woke in a cold layer of sweat. I hadn't bothered going to the prison to see my father, but I still hadn't gotten in until late. I was too stressed to come home, too stressed to go to see him, too stressed to do anything but go to the park Callan and I went to a lot when we were younger, just to sit and think.
My phone beeped beside me. I rolled over, not without some reluctance, and checked it.
22 missed calls
103 messages

"Did someone die?" I said to my black and white cat who snuggled into my extra pillow. My eyes widened at the outrageous numbers on my screen.
From: Callan
Lace?
Lace please say ur not mad at me
Please?
Answer!
God damn it Lacey!
Don't walk away from me like that ever again.
Ever.

And so on and so forth. So yes, maybe he was a little overprotective. But hey, he'd been through the fire with me and given me some stability when I couldn't even manage to hold a tooth brush because I was that fallen apart.
"Speaking of toothbrushes..." I groaned, rolling my eyes and scratching the underside of Red's chin.
(Yeah ask why a black cat is named Red). I can explain. Basically, Callan bought me a kitten for my 16th birthday (which was approximately a year ago) and thought it would be a good idea to let him roam free in my room so I could come home after a long day with my friends to find him...what? Chewing on my favorite pair of red lace panties of course. (The kitten, not Callan.) And, of course, being the melodramatic teenager I was (am) at the time, I screamed.
After forcing Callan to clean up the little "accidents" the kitten had made, I named him Red just so Callan could never live it down. So yes, my cat's a walking talking (meowing) inside joke.
Red jumped off my bed. I groaned as I swiped all of Callan's many, many, protective and ignored texts and calls off my screen. I rubbed my eyes, stretched, and hesitantly worked my way out of bed. One worthwhile thing I did the day before was, drum roll please, buying a tooth brush! Woo. Finishing up my morning routine, I heard my phone ring.
"Buddy, if this is Callan, Lord help him..." I told Red, obviously aware he didn't understand. It was Drake. Hm. Oh. Well. I needed to break things off with him.
"Hey Drake," I said groggily.
"Babe." He said harshly.
"Mm?" I asked.
"Why is Callan blowing my phone up? He thinks I kidnapped you or something." I choked on air somehow.
"He's what?" I asked in disbelief and horror.
"Babe, just get him off my case, would ya? Oh and be ready to be picked up at 4 o'clock, m'kay? Dress nice." And he hung up. Seeing as school ended a few weeks ago, and I was officially a senior, my mom didn't really ask where I was going as long as I checked in with her every now and then. I walked to my closet to see what I had.
"Nice? Red, I don't know what nice is." He meowed at me angrily and scratched at my pajama bottoms.
"Okay, sorry," I said, dragging out the "ee" sound in the word. I knelt down to scratch his head.
"Love ya buddy." And I moved back to my clothes. I had a few dresses, all of them very nice, but form fitting. I had a nice body and I knew it, but that didn't mean I wanted to show it off. So I decided to call my fashion expert.

I called Callan.

XXX

He got to my house within ten minutes.
"What do you need me for again?" He asked from my bed, as I was in my bathroom trying on different dresses.
"I need your help," I said, leaning my head out of the cracked door.
"Why are you hiding behind the door, Lace? Oh god...is this one of those "girl takes boys innocence" thing? Because this is too kinky for me, okay? What the hell is going on?"
"Shut up!" I yelled through the now closed door. "I'm trying to figure what to wear on my date with Drake."
I could tell without looking that he had rolled his eyes.
"Bring out the ugliest thing you've got. He doesn't need to be...hands on." He said with disgust. I laughed to myself and struggled with the zipper of the purple dress I had put on. It was a tight little strapless number that had a low v-neck and did wonders to show off my perky boobs. I stepped into my room. Callan leaned on the edge of my bed with his arms crossed. He looked up.
"Hell no," he said, not actually looking at the dress.
"Next."
So I tried on the green one. It was floor length, and an awkward teal green color. It had one strap that pulled over into a little ruffled mess on my left shoulder.
"Okay, Lace? When I said ugly, I didn't think you'd actually take it literally."
"Take that as a no," I muttered under my breath. Next I tried on a plain red one that reached mid thigh. It had racer straps on the back.
"That one's not too terrible." He said. So I moved to the final one. It was a silky black number with sequins on the top half. The top met the bottom half in a "v" shape right below my hips. The bottom of the dress flowed down to the floor longer in the back than the front. Paired with silver heels, this dress could rule the world. It was a stark contrast from my pale, pale skin, and blonde, pin straight hair, and light blue eyes. Callan actually looked over this one, for quite some time actually.
"Damn it, Lace." He stood and leaned his head against the window in the corner.
"That's the one," he said.