Catholic School Girls Rule [m.h + g.d]

| EIGHT |

My heart was racing, his mouth was agape, our bodies still, our eyes unblinking.
He either came in here to piss, or to check on me. Either way, I wasn't having it.
I shoved my things back into my pocket and kept my head down, wiping my nose and rushing out past George.
I felt my eyes prickle with tears, my hands much more shaky than before.
I walked back to the table, no trace of George behind my heel.
I flashed a fake smile and took a sip of the water the waitress had brought, setting the glass back on the table and throwing on my coat.
"Going out to have a fag," I said, my body buzzing from the drug I had just snorted.
Gemma smiled sympathetically and nodded. I kept my head lowered as I pushed open the door, the cold wind smacking me in the face.
I leaned back on the cement wall of the building, rather far away from the door. I shoved a shaky hand into my pocket, pulling out a fag from my pack and lighting it.
I felt sick to my stomach as I stared at George's blue lighter in my hands.
I'd never have a chance with him now.
And as I thought things could get better, shit is only getting worse, because life loves to fuck me right up the ass I suppose.
My eyes were uncontrollably wide but I knew my pupils were dilated, my body shaking, my mind racing. But it felt good.
I nearly choked on the smoke flowing throughout my smoke and lungs as I heard the door swing open.
"Matty," that deep voice said. Monotone, pained, even angered a bit.
I looked up at George, fear pounding in my chest.
"Why?", he asked, his shoulders slumped, his eyes sad.
"Why do you care?", I asked.
This wasn't me, this was the cocaine, I promise. I could never snap at that beautiful boy while sober. I was just trying to defend myself, I think. Hell, I couldn't tell, my head was buzzing at this point.
He furrowed his eyebrows, his figure inching close to me.
"I don't care how long I've known you for. Cocaine is so bad, Matty, you can't do this to yourself. You just can't," he said, his body towering over me, inches apart.
My hand trembled so bad that the fag in between my fingers slipped out, landing on the ground, and I wasn't going to bother picking it up.
I felt tears slip down my cold and flushed cheeks. Was it tears? Or snowflakes? My face was numb, I couldn't fucking tell.
"Please don't cry," he said, his eyes watering.
Probably from the cold.
"I'm not crying," I spat. "It's just the cold."
But after I said that, the urge to break down was only growing stronger.
Next thing I knew I was crying into his chest, his arms cautiously and gently hugging me. My legs were wobbly and my breathing was shaky, my eyes spilling tears like a faucet.
"God, f-fuck, George, I don't know what to do anymore," I said. He did in fact say that I could talk to him about anything whenever I needed to, and I really needed his gentle cooing right now more than anything.
"You know what you have to do?", he said gently, rubbing my back as I clung to him tightly.
"Huh?", I asked, sniffling as more tears dripped down my cheeks.
"You have to continue being strong, love," he said, petting my hair.
My heart fluttered at the pet name. God, this felt so right.
But he has a girlfriend.
I began to sob again.
"What's wrong?", he asked softly, hugging me tight,
"Everything," I mumbled into his coat.
"Talk to me about it," he said.
"I can't," I whispered.
"Why not?", he asked, the air still instead of windy, and suddenly the world stopped spinning.
I couldn't think of what to say.
"Because," I finally breathed, and everything returned back to normal.
The air was windy, the world was spinning.
"You don't have to," he said.
"Have to what?", I asked.
"Talk about it," he swayed me side to side, my heart swelling. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It might just help," he said, his eyebrows raising a bit when he spoke, and I forgot he had a girlfriend at this point. Fuck her.
"Gemma is going to flip," I said, my heart racing. "Surprised she isn't out here by now," I hesitantly pulled away from George.
"Yeah," he said, looking at me and smiling.
"For the rest of this dinner, please forget I snorted cocaine up my nose and cried in front of you like a loser," I said, my throat dry.
He tensed up a bit, and my brain went into panic mode.
"Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have said that I'm sorry," I said quickly, putting my hand on his arm.
He smiled warmly, and my stomach filled with butterflies.
"You aren't a loser. And of course we can talk when we get home, I'm always available," he smiled.
'Except when you're fucking the life out of your girlfriend,'  I thought to myself as he put his hand on the small of my back, walking me towards the restaurant, holding the door open for me like we were fucking married or something.
I said a silent 'thank you' as we walked in and back to our table. The cocaine had worn off quite a bit.
"What took you so long?", Gemma said, particularly to me. "The waitress has been over here asking us if we're ready to order about three times."
"S-Sorry," I said, taking my coat off and slipping myself back into my seat.
George did the same, looking rather uncomfortable at Gemma's tone of voice.
"Ready to order now?", the waitress came by, looking rather tired and irritated.
"Yes," Gemma smiled through gritted teeth.

We all ordered our food. Well, Gemma had to order for me.
After what seemed like decades, it finally came, and god did it look good, but I wasn't going to eat it. I didn't need it.
As everyone began to eat, I took my fork and began to pick around at the fish and chips on the plate in front of me. I made sure to keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
"Please eat," Gemma whispered from next to me.
"Can't," I answered, my heart beating faster than normal.
"Why not?", she asked, her voice laced with concern and hurt.
"Not hungry. Feeling sick," I shrugged, guilt eating away at my insides.
She rested her head on her hand and twirled the spaghetti on her plate around with her fork, eating it as if she was mad at the world and bored with everything.
I didn't blame her.
They finished eating and paid, and everyone was dead silent as we walked through the parking lot.
But it rather surprised me when Gemma linked her arm through mine, keeping her head low but giving me a soft smile.
"Things will be okay," Gemma said quietly, patting my arm and walking to the drivers side.
I nibbled on my bottom lip and got into the passengers side.
"No they won't," I said, though I didn't mean to say that, it was a thought I had said aloud.
She paused and looked at me, almost bewildered, and I would of ducked my head and got in the car, but part of me just didn't care anymore.
No, all of me.