In Love With a Renegade

Chapter 4: If You're Going to Judge Me

"Tell me," I said with a giggle as I poked at my scrambled eggs. "Who is Hayley Williams?"
"You tell me," Hayley snickered before taking a bite of toast. "Who do you think I am?"
"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "That's why I'm asking you."
"Good thinking, York," she said, pointing the toast at me like she did with the cigarette last night. "I can't answer it, though."
"Why not?" I put my fork down and studied Hayley, waiting for her response. She took a sip of orange juice.
"Everyone changes. One day, I'm angry; the next, I'm sad, for example," she said. "I can say I'm Hayley Nichole Williams just as easily as I can say I'm Mary Fiddleston the next day."
"Would you be Mary Fiddleston?" I asked with a chuckle. Hayley snorted, trying to hold in a laugh.
"What the fuck, no!" she laughed. "I like being Hayley Nichole Williams. Despite my craziness and reckless choices, I love me."
"So you admit you're reckless," I stated with a smile. Hayley nodded as she took her last gulp of orange juice.
"Very," she said after swallowing as she got up and took her dishes to the sink. "But something makes everyone who they are."
"What makes me who I am?" I quizzed.
"That's for you to find out, yourself," Hayley said as she put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.
"Who do you think I am?"
"Taylor Benjamin York, the guy I've known since middle school," she began. Hayley leaned against the counter and stared up at the ceiling as she thought more. "My homie."
"Not what. Who," I teased, mimicking her from last night.
"Grammar, York," she snickered as she shook her finger at me. "You are my homie. Who is my homie? You."
"I is your homie," I repeated, a smile cracking on my face. Hayley rolled her hazel eyes and chuckled at my remark.
"I'm telling you, York," she smirked as she picked at her nails. "I'm a lot smarter than you think."
"I never said you were dumb," I stated.
"No, but you do underestimate me."
"I don't mean to--"
"Then don't do it," she said smoothly, her voice calm. There was silence between us again. I felt bad for making Hayley feel this way. I never meant to put her down in any way.
"Have any plans, rebel?" I asked, trying to break the silence. Hayley shrugged as she focused on her nails.
"Nothing that would catch your interest, stiff," she said dully. "Doing things I usually do."
"Which is?"
"Oh, just strolling through the mall... Might hit a few drinks."
"Hayley, don't drive if you're drunk," I warned, my voice being stern.
"Why do you assume I'm a drunk, too?" she asked, her voice full of offense as she looked over at me. "Don't judge me, York."
"I'm not judging you, Hayley. It's just I've always seen you drunk and--"
"You're doing it again. You're judging me."
"Hayley, I'm not--"
"No, you're doing it," she said as she pointed at me again. "Whenever someone tries to fight back and say they're not judging, they try to cover up the rest of their judging by saying, "but" or "it's just that." Haven't you ever noticed that?"
"No," I said after a moment. Hayley blew a sigh, her red and orange bangs flopping on her forehead.
"For example, you're shy," she said. "You never talk to people, so you must be an antisocial."
"Why would you think that?" I asked, curious in her point.
"Well, I don't see you talking to people. You never say "me and my friends." And in all honesty, I really do think you're an antisocial."
"What if I have friends?"
"Exactly my point. What if you do? Then my judgment is wrong. You feel me?" I nodded, a pang of guilt aching in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I said after a minute passed.
"It's alright," she replied. "I'm used to it, anyway."
"Hayley, I really didn't mean to."
"Everyone says that, you know?" she said. "That they really didn't mean to."
"Honestly, Hayles. I didn't--"
"I believe you, York," she said as she studied me, pain visible in her eyes. "Out of everyone that could ever lie to my face with those words... I believe you."