Love Bites; Bullets

Rooftop Date Setup

Back in the day, when I "dated" girls and was a bit of a player, I would take them to the rooftop on a certain specific abandoned building. It was no big deal, since this building was actually just over five feet tall. Also, I just liked hanging out there most times by myself. But, I would be straight up lying if I said that I've never fucked a girl there before. Not very many, though a few distinct girls that had feelings for me and back in the day I would force myself to think that I did too. But to be honest, it was pure lust back then. 
Well, Casey had been complaining to me that we don't get enough time together throughout the day and kept trying to convince me to let her come over to my house, or even to hers for about a week. First of all, it's a hell no for her to stay at my house for several reasons; Two, there is no way in hell I'm going to her house. I've had bad experiences everytime I go over to other people's houses, so that's not gonna happen point blank period. 

Then, I believed it was on Thursday I had an awakening moment because I was planning on skipping School all together on Friday anyways, and thought it would be the perfect idea to get her out of School with a slip so I could take Casey to the roof. Believe it or not, my first intention was not to fuck her that night unlike other girls I've taken there. My first thought was to actually break the mold of the stupid ass goodie two-shot good girl persona for one day, and have possibly what seems like a mediocre date in mind for the rest of the night. And if we did decide to have sex, I brought the perfect balance of a big blanket to go underneath us, and a small blanket on top of us. Then again, we still would've slept there with each other that night with our clothes on and I'd still be happy to wake up next to her.

So that was it! I rushed home that Thursday afternoon and began packing for the long night ahead since I was planning to leave the School with Casey just after lunch break that day. 
I packed blankets, food, drinks, and everything we would need that night. To stay hydrated, fed, warm, and entertained. 
"What the fuck are you doing! Going fucking camping!?" My dad stood in the hallway holding his twelve-pack after coming back from the store.
"If this is camping, then where is the fucking tent!?" I shouted back just as rudely as he approached me.
"You little prick." Then he belched and walked away into the living room to start drinking.
"Hey!" I yelled.
"What!?" He sounded interrupted.
"Save me a beer!" I shout.
"Well if you don't get one yourself right now, they're gonna be gone in an hour! So I suggest you get off your lazy, stupid, ungrateful, good for nothing ass and get one!" He yells. Typical of my old man, he always has to shove all things like that into one sentence at least once a damn day.
"Fine!" I yelled back, and balled up my fist before getting the courage to get up and grab one.
When I approached the living room, I walked over to the side of his chair and tried grabbing the first one, but he put his hands on it first.
"I swear to God boy if you move any further I'll rip your fucking hand off!" He whispered as he grabbed my hand and pulled it down to his level, causing all the gas between my joints to crack and it hurt like hell.
"Ow!" I moaned angrily as he let go, and I waited for him to grab the same can he got so pissed about me trying to take, but instead he picked another one and that got me fucking aballed.
"Really!?" I expressed, but he just popped it open and I immediately picked the can I was originally going for.
But just forgot about it, and quickly paced back to my room to drink it. Then I opened my notebook to see how I'd left my map, since I haven't really been focusing on it lately when the worst happened, and I spilled some of the beer on it when I accidentally tipped it forward trying to see the pages on my bed. 
"Fucking shit!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"I swear to God Ryan! If you spilled that beer you're gonna fucking pay for it!" I hear my dad yell from the living room.
"Fuck you." I said to myself in my bed quietly.
"Hey! Don't you hear me talking to you bastard!?" He shouted even louder.
"I didn't spill the fucking beer damn!" I screamed as I tried to wipe it up.
"That's all you could've said in the first place idiot!" He yelled one last time.
"Fucking moron." I heard him tell himself loud enough for me to hear it.
Luckily after the mess was cleaned up, I noticed that the notebook wasn't as soaked as I thought it was but still the work was there, but way harder to see now. And I groaned to myself trying not scream at the top of my lungs, but I lost control and punched my wall behind me again. I didn't break through this time, thank God for that, but still caused a noticeable dent but who gives a shit.
I hit the wall, after I realized that I was going to have to start a good copy of it. That felt like it, months of work gone down the drain all because of my dumb ass.