Give Me Love | 2 | ✓

Chapter 12: You're The Prettiest Raccoon I've Ever Seen

Chapter 12: You're The Prettiest Raccoon I've Ever Seen

“Does it look completely awful?” I ask Orlando as we walk out of the hair shop place a little while later.

“No, it looks good, I think and I’m sure you friends will all think so too,” He informs me as we walk down the sidewalk.

Apparently this place that he knows of that we’re having lunch at is only a few blocks from the hair place and he thinks that it’ll be easier walking their rather fighting the Rome traffic. If you thought Los Angeles had bad traffic, you’d definitely not want to be here. The woman—  I’ve learned that her name is Gail—  cut my hair like, a lot. I mean, it’s not extremely short now, but not as long as it used to be.

Before the cut, when it was down, my hair flowed to the small of my back, and now it’s a reaches a few inches below the back of my shoulders. Like, if I reach around my back with my hand, I can still touch it and it stops about in the middle of my spine.

I was originally just going to get it cut, but then I decide that if I was doing change, I might as well be thorough. So, I got a caramel-colored highlights and personally, I think they look good. All in all, my hair doesn’t look extremely different but it’s obviously been cut and obviously I have highlights now.

“Thanks,” I say in response to Orlando’s comment then wrinkle my nose as my stomach growls again. That’s like, the fifth time today that my stomach has growled like that today. Granted though, I haven’t eaten all day, which is stupid on my part, I guess.

“So, erm, how’re things with your boyfriend?” He asks nonchalantly, putting his hands down in the pockets of his khakis.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I remind him flatly.

“Ex-boyfriend then,” Orlando repeats, fixing his comment.

“They aren’t really different. He still doesn’t talk to me. I don’t talk to him either. I mean, we say good morning to each other sometimes, but that’s about it, honestly. I guess it’s sort of an improvement from where we were a few days ago though.

He went to jail a few days ago though, and I used some of my money that I brought along, called my dad, lied to him and said there was a life or death emergency situation and got him to send me a substantial amount of money just to bail him out. I mean, I would have done that for him even if we were still together. Well, now that I think about it, Bradley wouldn’t have gone to jail if we hadn’t broken up,” I relay, suddenly realizing that that’s the truth.

So, in my eyes, it all comes back to Drew. If he hadn’t kissed me then Bradley wouldn’t have broken up with me. And if Bradley hadn’t broken up with me, then I wouldn’t hate Drew and Bradley and Drew would still be friends. And if Bradley and Drew were still friends, they wouldn’t have fought and they wouldn’t have went to jail.

Surely, you can see how this all falls back on that stupid lump-headed Jerky McJerkface.

“Wow, that’s bad. Why’d he go to jail?”

“He got into a fight with an idiot,” I simply reply. “Battery—  that was the charge.”

“So, you like bad boys or something?” Orlando wonders as we pass a cute little elderly couple walking the opposite way of us.

“No,” I shrug absentmindedly. “Not really, I guess. Bradley’s not a bad boy, he was just angry.” I defend my ex-boyfriend.

Orlando nods in understanding and we walk for a few more minutes until we reach a little bistro type thing. He pulls the front door open and we walk in together, going up to the counter. The place looks like a somewhat run down and less upscale McDonalds, I think.