with more girls than I can keep track of, and while I never meant to be an asshole to any of them, uh... yeah, pretty fucking sure a lot of them would say I was an asshole.
I probably am. I'm not going to deny it. I never wanted to be an asshole to Ashley, and I think I was doing a pretty fucking good job of it, but look how that ended up?
"Sorry," Scarlet says. She's fully clothed now, bawling her eyes out, refusing to look at me. "I didn't... I'm sorry, Ethan. Sorry."
She scrambles with my doorknob. It takes her a few seconds to actually open it, though. When she finally gets it, she pulls it open as fast as she can, which is pretty slow considering she can't stop shaking. She almost falls on the floor when she goes to step into the hall.
I move to help her, because... what the fuck, I'm not going to help her. Even now I'm instinctively trying to be better, trying to be nice, but Scarlet fucked everything up. Holy fuck.
I do help her, though. Whatever. Who cares? The damage is done and there's a fucking crying girl standing in my doorway now. I'm really fucking pissed, so don't think I'm not, but I used to think Scarlet was my friend, so...
She starts to smile at me when I pull her up and help her get her feet steady, but then she looks away fast and her face turns pale. I hold her hips lightly while she takes a few steps forward and out my door. When she's in the hall, having taken enough steps of her own to make me feel confident that she can walk without crashing to the ground and hurting herself, I let her go.
I'm in a towel, by the way. So much for trying to make sure rumors don't start spreading. Fuck me for being nice. Just... fuck this. Fuck everything.
Thankfully no one sees me. No one's here. I almost feel like that's even worse, though. It's just Scarlet and I standing here, her stumbling down the hall, holding onto the wall, while I stand in my doorway feeling like an asshole for who the fuck knows what reason?
I close the door a little, but I keep watching to make sure she's fine. She is. She makes her way to Caleb's door. She grabs the knob and the door swings wide open for her. I have no fucking clue if Caleb is there, or where he is. Maybe he's in his room, or maybe he's not. I'll figure it out later.
Right now I need to work on some damage control. It's not even that, though. Damage control is for when you do shit that's wrong and you try to mitigate the... the fucking wrongness, you know? It's not so bad, it's not as bad as you think. That's what you try to tell everyone, at least.
This is really fucking bad, but it's a mistake. It's not what it looks like. I need to tell her that. Ashley, I swear to fucking God that this isn't anything like what it looked like. I'm not an asshole. I wouldn't do that to you.
Which means I need to call her. Which means I need my phone. Which is next to my laptop on my desk.
Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck. I can't even. I seriously can't fucking even...
I never plugged it in. It's dead. Completely fucking dead. I put it on my desk but I never plugged it in to charge. I almost throw it against my wall in a fit of rage, but I stop at the last second. What fucking good is that going to do me? As hard as it is, I need to calm the fuck down for a second.
I find my charger. I plug my phone in. It won't turn on, though. Too dead. Not enough battery power to even start. I stare at it, grinding my teeth.
I want to fucking scream so bad. I have never wanted to completely destroy a pillow so much in my life. It's tempting as fuck, too. I stare at it on my bed, all fucking... fluffy and shit.
I leave my phone for a second and go to my bed, snatching my pillow up. I squeeze it hard. Real fucking hard. It's a pillow, so, uh... I'm angry as fuck but this is just a pillow. I think it's fine. Call the fucking American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pillows on me if you fucking want. Just fuck off and leave me alone.
Yeah...
Suddenly I'm crying. I don't know how. One
I probably am. I'm not going to deny it. I never wanted to be an asshole to Ashley, and I think I was doing a pretty fucking good job of it, but look how that ended up?
"Sorry," Scarlet says. She's fully clothed now, bawling her eyes out, refusing to look at me. "I didn't... I'm sorry, Ethan. Sorry."
She scrambles with my doorknob. It takes her a few seconds to actually open it, though. When she finally gets it, she pulls it open as fast as she can, which is pretty slow considering she can't stop shaking. She almost falls on the floor when she goes to step into the hall.
I move to help her, because... what the fuck, I'm not going to help her. Even now I'm instinctively trying to be better, trying to be nice, but Scarlet fucked everything up. Holy fuck.
I do help her, though. Whatever. Who cares? The damage is done and there's a fucking crying girl standing in my doorway now. I'm really fucking pissed, so don't think I'm not, but I used to think Scarlet was my friend, so...
She starts to smile at me when I pull her up and help her get her feet steady, but then she looks away fast and her face turns pale. I hold her hips lightly while she takes a few steps forward and out my door. When she's in the hall, having taken enough steps of her own to make me feel confident that she can walk without crashing to the ground and hurting herself, I let her go.
I'm in a towel, by the way. So much for trying to make sure rumors don't start spreading. Fuck me for being nice. Just... fuck this. Fuck everything.
Thankfully no one sees me. No one's here. I almost feel like that's even worse, though. It's just Scarlet and I standing here, her stumbling down the hall, holding onto the wall, while I stand in my doorway feeling like an asshole for who the fuck knows what reason?
I close the door a little, but I keep watching to make sure she's fine. She is. She makes her way to Caleb's door. She grabs the knob and the door swings wide open for her. I have no fucking clue if Caleb is there, or where he is. Maybe he's in his room, or maybe he's not. I'll figure it out later.
Right now I need to work on some damage control. It's not even that, though. Damage control is for when you do shit that's wrong and you try to mitigate the... the fucking wrongness, you know? It's not so bad, it's not as bad as you think. That's what you try to tell everyone, at least.
This is really fucking bad, but it's a mistake. It's not what it looks like. I need to tell her that. Ashley, I swear to fucking God that this isn't anything like what it looked like. I'm not an asshole. I wouldn't do that to you.
Which means I need to call her. Which means I need my phone. Which is next to my laptop on my desk.
Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck. I can't even. I seriously can't fucking even...
I never plugged it in. It's dead. Completely fucking dead. I put it on my desk but I never plugged it in to charge. I almost throw it against my wall in a fit of rage, but I stop at the last second. What fucking good is that going to do me? As hard as it is, I need to calm the fuck down for a second.
I find my charger. I plug my phone in. It won't turn on, though. Too dead. Not enough battery power to even start. I stare at it, grinding my teeth.
I want to fucking scream so bad. I have never wanted to completely destroy a pillow so much in my life. It's tempting as fuck, too. I stare at it on my bed, all fucking... fluffy and shit.
I leave my phone for a second and go to my bed, snatching my pillow up. I squeeze it hard. Real fucking hard. It's a pillow, so, uh... I'm angry as fuck but this is just a pillow. I think it's fine. Call the fucking American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pillows on me if you fucking want. Just fuck off and leave me alone.
Yeah...
Suddenly I'm crying. I don't know how. One
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