comfort {complete}

52

Lois, Noah, and I are standing in an aisle at Whole Foods, eyeing the thirteen-hundred available flavors of Pringles. Noah's face is in my neck, and I'm leaning heavily against him as Lois sighs indecisively and touches her hair.

"Alright, Steph, this is it: barbecue or pizza?"

"Barbecue," is my reply.

"Okay, we're getting pizza," and she tosses it in the cart. "Hmm, what else, what else?"

I glance around us, surveying the people at the end of the aisle. One of them is wearing a letterman jacket, standing there with his arm draped over a petite brunette. Her face is buried in the crook of his shoulder, and his hand is drawing circles on her arm. The other boy is—Brian.

He looks exactly the same, boyish and cute, with his blonde hair spiked up in the typical fuckboy fashion. He's grinning at the girl on his arm, ducking his head to whisper something in her ear. She blushes and leans into him; I consider vomiting.

Noah must notice how tense I am because he lifts his head and brushes the hair out of my face. "What's up, Steph?"

"Um." My voice is shaky and I hate it. "He's at the end of the aisle."

"Who?" he asks, then promptly freezes up because he knows exactly who. He pulls me a little closer, and I feel a little safer, but then I look at Brian again and it's gone. "Lois. That asshole is here."

She frowns and glances at him, her shoulders tensing. "Ugh. Shall I kill him, Stephanie?"

And then I'm so frightfully furious that I pull away from Noah and march down to the end of the aisle. He didn't rape them; he raped me—and I'd rather die than let them fight my battles.

I tap him on the shoulder, eyes cold and furious, and when he turns around, I punch that fucker right in the nose.

Twice.

a/n: go stephhhhhhh