You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Two

Elizabeth

After the day I had yesterday, I am drained. The bright side is that I woke up on time today. Today, the day that I have classes only late in the morning; the irony is surely not lost on me.

I am, at the same time, preparing breakfast and bracing myself for Poppy's wrath. I was so caught up yesterday with Axton--I mean, the project for James' class--I didn't have time to go dress shopping with her.

Speaking of the she-devil, I answer my phone. "Hello, beautiful."

Poppy is shrieking on the other side. "You are certainly not abandoning me today again, are you? The Brit is hot and all, but I am in a crisis here and I need you." I can practically hear her pouting through the phone.

I sigh. I can be such a shitty friend sometimes. "No dear, tell me where to be, and at what time, and I'll be there," I assure her.

"Be gorgeous. I am picking you up at two, right after class."

"Deal."

Thank God I have time to get ready like a normal person today. Throughout the shower, I keep reminiscing about my day yesterday. Axton is surely not the traditional good boy; he seems nice nevertheless, but his fire is the alluring trait. He is kind at times, but always edgy. I never seem to know what goes on behind those green eyes of his. His humor is peculiar, and he does not seem to reveal much about himself, which I can understand. I stay in the shower for a couple more minutes, daydreaming, as the cold water falls on me. It is uncomfortably hot today--or maybe it is just me.

Once I leave the bathroom, I see that it is certainly not only me; as a matter of fact, it is quite warm today. Looking at my closet, I pick a black and white plaid skirt with a bow on the waist, a V-neck cherry t-shirt, my favorite Gucci loafers and many golden chains around my neck. The color cherry brightens my complexion and calls attention to how blonde my hair is. With this outfit you can see many of my tattoos: the rose on my wrist that rests under my Tiffany's bracelet I never remove, the flowers on my arm and the bird on the inside are also visible. I fancy admiring them.

I hit shuffle on Spotify, and one of my favorite songs comes on, blasting through the speakers, I love when that happens. Maybe I'll play this one later on today at the radio station. As if drawing energy from the music, I finish getting ready in ten more minutes, signature smoky eye and all.

I arrive to class ahead of time today and pick my seat without much competition. When the professor calls us for roll call, I hear Axton's name, but my English boy is nowhere to be found; the grayish-white walls feel empty without his presence and his acid remarks.

__________

The class ends, and I leave for lunch. I might be able to squeeze in a meal before Poppy arrives; I could kill for sweet potato fries, or mozzarella sticks, with quesadillas, and cheesecake right now. They're technically not lunch, but I am insatiable.

I enter Tom's; the restaurant is crowded today, the hustle and bustle are characteristic of New York. In the city, people are always hurried, running around like working ants.

I've just sat on a booth when my phone rings.

Thinking it's Poppy, I answer, "Hey babe."

The voice on the other end is flat. "Hello, Elizabeth."

Oh, fuck. I should have learned to always check the caller ID by now.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes and answer as dryly as possible, "Hello mother. How are you?"

"I am fine, and you?" Giving me absolutely no time to reply, she continues, "I need to know whether you're coming home this weekend or not. It's not like you to come home anyhow, but I thought it'd be polite to confirm. If you aren't, I am going to Lake Placid with Delilah."