Mean Girl Tendencies

23|"I turn eighteen in two weeks. I think that's legal enough."

"So I guess you don't have to tell me anything since you won." Nolan comments as we loiter in my front entrance.

I nod. "True... but that doesn't mean I won't ever." I say softly. I don't know if he can tell or not, but I'm extremely uncomfortable. Sharing my emotions, especially valuable ones, is very strange for me.

In the midst of me being awkward, Nolan decides to laugh at me. "You're so cute when you're out of your element." He shows off his pearly whites.

I decide to punch him in the chest. Playfully, but hard.

"Ow Aurora," He's still smiling at me. "it was only a joke."

"I know, but it wasn't funny." I try to hide my blushing cheeks behind my red hair.

"Can you guys stop flirting and hurry up! Cindy is freaking out over here!" Jerry screams at us from the passenger seat in Nolan's car. Nolan's car was different from last time. It was just a regular old Honda that looked really out of place in front of my mansion, but I never really expected Nolan to embrace his new found money and buy an expensive car. This car suits him.

Nolan waves his best friend off and looks down at me. "I'll call you, okay?"

I nod once again, because I'm not able to say anything without speaking like a five year old girl who has a crush on Justin Bieber.

He's so close to me just like the night at the Gala, and I can't help but close my eyes and lean in, but in a few seconds he's gone zooming straight for his car.

"Bye Aurora!" He shouts as he slides in and drives off leaving me aghast. I could hear Jerry yelling into his phone to his possessive girlfriend who is going crazy not knowing where he is. She's probably the reason they had to leave so abruptly.

Did he not want to kiss me? Did he even notice that I was leaning in, closing my eyes, and puckering my lips? Ugh!? So freaking embarrassing. Sometimes I feel like punching him in the throat because he makes me feel this way. And other times I think about making out with him twenty-four seven because he makes me feel this way.

I let out a frustrated groan and go back inside the house.

"That chick is insane." Eric tells me as soon as I enter the house.

"What chick? Zena?" I stare curiously at the boy who is riding a skateboard throughout the house.

He skates himself all the way towards me, and stop directly in front of my feet. "Yes her. As soon as she saw me she told me I was a privileged mysogynistic teenage boy he deserves to have a foot up my ass! Who does she think she is? Red Foreman?" My brother rants clearly pissed off.

"Don't worry buddy, not everyone is going to like you." I make my way up the stairs.

"But I didn't even say anything to her!" He says exasperated.

I stop my climbing and look at him. "I guess that's a problem between you and her." I shrug. "Oh and wear a helmet if you're going to do that in the house. I don't want you hitting your head and ending up like mom." I cackle.

Eric scrunches up his freckled face in disgust. "You're sick and of no help to me."

"You're a teenage boy, eventually you're going to have to learn how to deal with teenage girls. Duces." I hold up a peace sign to him as I continue my walk upstairs.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I shout angrily as I race down two flights of stairs to get to the front door. Who even has access to my house this late at night? I strap on my chiffon dressing gown over my silk pajama dress and open the door. "Hello?" I snap at the person knocking on my door at five in the morning.

"Good morning ma'am, we're detectives with the Sunnydale police force. Can we ask you a few questions?" They both hold up their badges.

Two men in dull, boring, cheap suits stand in front of my door interrupting my beauty sleep. If I show up to school with bags under my eyes, I'm suing.

I eye them cautiously. "Pertaining to?"

"The death of Francis Handridge."

My voice and face fall emotionless. "I'm sorry it's very early in the morning and I have school tomorrow. I don't know anything about that." I try to close the door, but the taller cop stopped it with his foot.

"Please miss, you're not in trouble. Only a few questions."

I have to think fast. If I'm too rude or too brass with them they'll think somethings wrong. And I can't have them thinking that. And if I hesitate there will be questions.

I give the officers one of my infamous fake smiles. "Of course officers-"

"Detectives." The shorter one corrects me.

"My bad- of course detectives. Come on in." I open the door wide. They stare in awe of my entrance room, but I don't mind them and I lead them to the kitchen. "So what was you're names?"

"Detective Andrew Reynolds," The tall one introduces himself. "and this is Mark Jensen."

I could spot the heat that they were packing and made sure my eyes didn't linger too long. I head straight towards the coffee machine and started making some, I don't drink coffee, I prefer tea, but I bet the cops do. And I need to seem.. homely.

"Do you have a legal guardian here with you?" Reynolds questions while his eyes take in every inch of my home.

I chuckle. "I turn eighteen in two weeks. I think that's legal enough." 

The detectives don't seem to mind and as I grace the kitchen making breakfast for myself, (which is only cereal, because I don't know how to make much else) they begin their questioning.

"What was you're relationship to Mr. Handridge?" Jensen ask me.

I try to keep my manicured hands from shaking as I poured the coffee into the cups. I had to grab the side of the pot to stop my quivering, and try to forget the burning sensation I was feeling.

"He was a photographer for my mothers business, and occasionally photographed me on behalf of my mothers request."

I place the two coffee mugs in front of the gentleman and they mumble a thank you, then they glance at the coffee, but they don't drink it.

Jensen speaks again. "How would you describe Francis, or as we heard he liked to be called Franky."

My arm spasms out and knocks my cereal bowl of the counter and onto the floor. The pristine white bowl shatters into tiny pieces, lucky I'm wearing my slippers. "Shit!" I don't know where the cleaning supplies are. I'm going to have to wait until the maid gets here to clean it up. All we have in this kitchen are paper towels, and I'm not going to risk touching those sharp pieces with my hand.

"Wow, are you alright miss!?" Andrew abruptly rushes to my aid.

I give them a tight smile. "I'm fine. Just a little tired." I check the time on the oven. "I'm so sorry, but I should be getting ready for school." The men nod. Like the good host I was pretending to be, I walk them out.

"Well it was nice to meet you Aurora, hopefully we get to continue this conversation soon." Jensen tells me.

I nod in faux agreement. "Same here. Au revoir." I wave to them from the door, and watch as they get into their beige 1996 Toyota and drive off.

I slam the door hard, causing the chandelier to shake a little. I'm pretty sure I broke a nail, but I could care less.

"Who were they?" Eric's voice from the stairwell spooked me, causing me to jump out of my skin as I turn towards him.

"No one." I snap at him. "Go get ready for school."

"First of all, it's five in the morning and school doesn't start till nine. Second of all, I'm not that stupid. You don't have to lie to me." He shakes his head in disappointment and trots upstairs.

I watch him ascend the stairs, and as soon as he's gone I slide down against the door and my body goes into tremors. I start shaking and crying uncontrollably. This was over. It was over. We ended it. So how come it's back now?