think you can just tell me to walk away and I will? You think so low of me?”
“Whitney,” he whispered, and this time, his voice, and his eyes, were tortured.
“Fuck. You .”
He nodded his head, because in a roundabout way, we’d ended up exactly where he wanted.
That’s what made me call after him.
“Tonight,” I declared on a shaky exhale. “Tonight, Blane, you are an asshole. But tomorrow, this will be over, and you better believe I’ll be right there again, shoving myself right back down your throat.”
He turned back, all the way at the driveway, just to slap me one more time. “I don’t want you to.” He raised his voice even louder. “Whitney, I want you to leave me alone.”
“Yeah, well,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I wanted you to leave me the hell alone in seventh grade, and look how that turned out.”
“DRAMA,” GRAM MUTTERED FROM HER spot under my covers as I walked into my room. Her hair was mussed as though she’d been there for quite some time.
“Is this where I’m going to find you from now on? Because, really?”
“It’s comfy,” she argued. “Your mattress is more comfortable than mine.”
“That’s probably because you made it all lumpy with your brittle, little old lady bones,” I deadpanned.
Okay. So that wasn’t that nice. But I wasn’t in a good mood. Obviously.
“Hah!” She laughed. Crazy old lady. “If that’s true, lumpy is coming to a bed near you. I lay here every day.”
“Great,” I huffed sarcastically.
“Geez. Someone is super grumpy. I’m guessing it has something to do with the hunk, right?”
“How would you know?”
“You’ve got some pipes, kid. I’m a brittle, little old lady,” she mocked, “ and I still heard you screaming outside.”
“Jesus.”
“Yep, Jesus definitely heard you too.”
I rolled my eyes before bringing them back to hers.
She stared at me. It was rich in you better just go ahead and tell me because I’m not going anywhere until you do .
“Ugh, fine,” I conceded, letting my voice growl at the end of my first word.
“Thank God. I really didn’t want to put in the work to making you confess.”
“You’re a pain in my—”
“Careful. Attribute too many pains to your ass and that thing’ll get so big it curls around and smothers you.”
“What?”
“Just get on with it.”
“He doesn’t want me to be his friend anymore. I’m,” I lifted my fingers into air quotes for emphasis, “too good for him.”
“And what’d you say?”
“That it was too bad. I was gonna be his friend anyway. Actually, I’m pretty sure I told him I was going to shove myself down his throat.”
“Ooo,” she said while pretending to fan herself. “Saucy.”
“Gram!”
“What? You need to live a little. It’d really do you some good.”
“Whatever. So I’m boring. Out with the advice. I know you’ve got it.”
“Damn right I do,” she agreed arranging the dainty purple covers around herself.
“So tell me!” I snapped.
Her restless limbs settled, the energy they’d been using focused now on me. “NeeNee, a man who really wants to stop being your friend, just stops being your friend. He doesn’t come talk to you about it, in the dark of night, and then force you to walk away from him.”
I stared at her.
“You just keep on shoving yourself down his throat, and then, you know, really shove yourself down his throat .”
“He’s still with Franny, you loon.”
“Right, right. Franny,” she mumbled, not actually saying anything other than her name.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she offered. “Just pondering what it must be like to have a moral compass.”
“How is it that you’re the person I come to with problems? You’re the person from whom I take advice?” I questioned to the room at large, but we both knew I was talking about her.
“Why not?” Gram supplied easily, taking a candy bar out from behind my lavender pillowcase. “I’m brilliant.”
NOTHING ABOUT
“Whitney,” he whispered, and this time, his voice, and his eyes, were tortured.
“Fuck. You .”
He nodded his head, because in a roundabout way, we’d ended up exactly where he wanted.
That’s what made me call after him.
“Tonight,” I declared on a shaky exhale. “Tonight, Blane, you are an asshole. But tomorrow, this will be over, and you better believe I’ll be right there again, shoving myself right back down your throat.”
He turned back, all the way at the driveway, just to slap me one more time. “I don’t want you to.” He raised his voice even louder. “Whitney, I want you to leave me alone.”
“Yeah, well,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I wanted you to leave me the hell alone in seventh grade, and look how that turned out.”
“DRAMA,” GRAM MUTTERED FROM HER spot under my covers as I walked into my room. Her hair was mussed as though she’d been there for quite some time.
“Is this where I’m going to find you from now on? Because, really?”
“It’s comfy,” she argued. “Your mattress is more comfortable than mine.”
“That’s probably because you made it all lumpy with your brittle, little old lady bones,” I deadpanned.
Okay. So that wasn’t that nice. But I wasn’t in a good mood. Obviously.
“Hah!” She laughed. Crazy old lady. “If that’s true, lumpy is coming to a bed near you. I lay here every day.”
“Great,” I huffed sarcastically.
“Geez. Someone is super grumpy. I’m guessing it has something to do with the hunk, right?”
“How would you know?”
“You’ve got some pipes, kid. I’m a brittle, little old lady,” she mocked, “ and I still heard you screaming outside.”
“Jesus.”
“Yep, Jesus definitely heard you too.”
I rolled my eyes before bringing them back to hers.
She stared at me. It was rich in you better just go ahead and tell me because I’m not going anywhere until you do .
“Ugh, fine,” I conceded, letting my voice growl at the end of my first word.
“Thank God. I really didn’t want to put in the work to making you confess.”
“You’re a pain in my—”
“Careful. Attribute too many pains to your ass and that thing’ll get so big it curls around and smothers you.”
“What?”
“Just get on with it.”
“He doesn’t want me to be his friend anymore. I’m,” I lifted my fingers into air quotes for emphasis, “too good for him.”
“And what’d you say?”
“That it was too bad. I was gonna be his friend anyway. Actually, I’m pretty sure I told him I was going to shove myself down his throat.”
“Ooo,” she said while pretending to fan herself. “Saucy.”
“Gram!”
“What? You need to live a little. It’d really do you some good.”
“Whatever. So I’m boring. Out with the advice. I know you’ve got it.”
“Damn right I do,” she agreed arranging the dainty purple covers around herself.
“So tell me!” I snapped.
Her restless limbs settled, the energy they’d been using focused now on me. “NeeNee, a man who really wants to stop being your friend, just stops being your friend. He doesn’t come talk to you about it, in the dark of night, and then force you to walk away from him.”
I stared at her.
“You just keep on shoving yourself down his throat, and then, you know, really shove yourself down his throat .”
“He’s still with Franny, you loon.”
“Right, right. Franny,” she mumbled, not actually saying anything other than her name.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she offered. “Just pondering what it must be like to have a moral compass.”
“How is it that you’re the person I come to with problems? You’re the person from whom I take advice?” I questioned to the room at large, but we both knew I was talking about her.
“Why not?” Gram supplied easily, taking a candy bar out from behind my lavender pillowcase. “I’m brilliant.”
NOTHING ABOUT
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