Fuckboy, Fuckgirl

09: fuckboy, fuckgirl

"Astrid! Your hangover any better?" I yelled as I walked into the house, slamming the white door behind me.

"Yeah! I haven't puked for a couple hours- but how was your day with Parker?" She replied, myself knowing that her voice came from inside her room.

"We both agree- we are not exactly friends with benefits- people who met not so long ago who fuck around is the title we like to give each other," I replied, hipping next to her on the bed, glancing over to see that she was scrolling through twitter on her phone.

"Fuckboy, fuckgirl," Astrid sing-songed, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear and laying back on the bed, putting her phone next to her and feet in the air.

"It's a sweet life, Astrid Thompson. And sometimes you get bad deals, sometimes you get good ones. This is one of of the good ones- we both don't really want anything serious. We're two teenagers who live on other sides of the country and met a couple days ago, and seem to have take a liking to each other. It can't ever be anything serious, so we aren't going to let it. Fuckboy, fuckgirl. It's how you make it. No feelings," I sighed, laying down next to her and moving my glance over to my blonde-haired best friend.

"I wish I had your confidence," Astrid deadpanned, switching her gaze to the ceiling.

"If anything, it's my lackthereof that gets me into this stuff," I explained, letting a breath up and looking up at the white-painted ceiling along with my blue/green eyed companion.

"How can you even say that?" she asked, playfully smacking me in the side with a laugh.

"Because I have the lowest self-esteem i've ever seen, but I make up for it with my amazing sarcasm and confident cover," I responded, sarcastically. As Dylan O'Brien said in The Internship, sarcasm is (one of) my only defense(s).

I don't have much self-confidence, really. I don't know exactly why, but it probably has something to do with the social anxiety problems i've dealt with my entire life, coming in and fucking me up whenever it could. And after one too many explosive crushes, I made a deal with myself to not let myself get mixed up with another real relationship that could end badly.

That's why i'm always so okay with Parker's stupid claims and draws- it's what I need in order to not let myself get attached again. And after all i've been through, detachment isn't even necessary anymore- I don't.

I don't get attached anymore- and it works. It may be a fucked up system, but it works. I don't much anymore- I don't need to hurt. So I don't. This may make it sound like I have sociopathic tendencies, and, if that, so be it. Think what you want to think.

After staying quiet for a while, Astrid spoke up. "I really don't get you, Carted Maddox."

"I really don't get myself either, Astrid Thompson," I retorted calmly.