Dangerous: A Marcel Styles Fan Fiction

33: Blonde Realization

33: Blonde Realization

   It was hard, but I’d found a way to deeper explain the entire story to Georgia Rose – after I’d apologized to her for earlier (at least I had one forgiving friend) – without using the dreaded, plagued words “I work,” and by stating bluntly that I had not been using him. It had been difficult to keep myself composed over the phone, and I sadly failed to hold back tears. All the drama had overwhelmed me! Georgia Rose rushed over to wipe away my sadness until only the dead feeling from this morning remained.

   “Why do I feel so guilty about this?” I asked into the dead silence hanging over the two of us. My blonde friend and I both lay on my bed – her scrolling down her Tumblr feed and me just staring blankly at my white bedroom ceiling.

   “Well, you’re the one who said we shouldn’t use him to get to the band –”

   “I didn’t use him,” I stated, “He just thinks I did.” I pulled myself up into a sitting position and Georgia Rose did the same, lowering her phone.

   “He hates me,” I murmured, convincing myself despite what he’d said, this was the truth. Marcel could deny this was true, but I could tell he was lying.

   My friend’s hazel eyes studied me quietly, with a touch of sympathy hidden there within.

   “I just want him to forgive me,” I expanded, feeling tears well behind my eyes, “I don’t care if he does want to be with me! I just want him not to hate me!”

   “I know,” Georgia Rose purred, “It must be so hard to have someone you love thinking of you like this.”

   I turned my gaze on her, eyes wide, at the mention of the word she’d used. “What?” I demanded softly.

   She’d said “love.” Love, love, love, love, love! Why was everyone using that word!? I didn’t love Marcel! Or, if I did, I didn’t feel love. I felt uneasy – sick almost – just thinking about it. It was hard enough just making the conversion from a friend to more of a potential boyfriend. But the idea of love had caused about a quarter of the problems I was facing. I didn’t want to say what I was so uncertain of.

   “V,” Georgia Rose said with a soft tone laced with breath. She forced her hazel eyes to lock with mine, and stayed silent for a moment. “I know you. I get that he’s your first – well, everything – but love is love.”

   “Please, shut up,” I begged, falling back onto the sheets.

   “Veronica,” she started again, despite my complaints, “Whatever the hell happened between you two is going to take more than a standard apology.”

   She paused her words for a minute as I sat up. My blonde friend rose up from the bed, gaze focused on the screen of her phone for a few seconds. Then she met eyes with me once more.

   “Look, V, I gotta go so I’m just gonna come out and say this. V, you’re in love with him.”

   I couldn’t bring myself to admit to anything.