hostile//fillie

chapter nine.

a/n: 1k, I'm sobbing alejnekdjeeknde

thanks babies. sorry if there's typos!

**millie's pov**

  "What's going on with you, Mills? You've been acting really upset, ever since yesterday in health. Are you alright?" Grace points out my obvious bummed demeanor, like she'd been torn about physically asking me, while all of us girls, Caleb, and Noah sat around the lunch table, everyone talking about this and that, as I pick at the green salad that was limp, with the tongs of my white plastic fork.

   Noah ended up walking over to my house yesterday after school, to see what what happened earlier that morning, after the heated and intense conversation with Finn.

     I told Noah everything that was said, and he got super pissed off, when I went into detail about the altercation.

Which is sweet and supportive on his part as a close friend, but it also doesn't make a lot of sense to me, considering that Finn only said what he said because of the way that I poorly treated him.

      I was rude to him first, for no specific reason.

      I honestly just wanted to bring someone else down, because that's how I felt so strongly in that moment in time.

     He has a right to despise me.

         It's strange.

It could've been any other person to call me fucking rude, shallow, or whatever you else you wanna say, and it would've just went through one ear, and out the other.

  But, his words imprinted themselves into the wavelengths of my brain.

      As weird as this is to literally say, I care about his opinion of me.

   I have to care about his perception, or this wouldn't currently be eating me alive.

          But, why?

          He's a stranger, and he doesn't mean anything to me whatsoever.

Everyone's eyes fall onto my sat stance against the black rounded seat, as I immediately shift my right leg that hung over the left, gently shaking my head in response, trailing my view sight back down to my unappetizing lunch.

  Iris and Noah are actually the only ones who aware in depth, about denim boy.

    The boy who hates now loathes me, and wishes to never speak to me again, or so he said.

"I'm fine, Grace." I reassure with a weak smile, not trailing my eyes from the purple, green, and light green healthy vegetables tossed around with little croutons inside of the plastic bowl up to her.

   I am fine.

I'm just beyond angry at myself, because I've caused this gap that is going to pure awkwardness, when he comes over to work on the yard.

  These next two weeks, starting today, are going to be agonizingly awful.

What if he has to come inside to use the bathroom, to grab something to drink, or anything of the sort?