[let it burn]
{Justin}
"Did you want anything else, Justin?"
I shake my head, glancing over Shelly's shoulder and trying to get a better look at Chloe as she waits on a couple at some table only a few feet away from my own. "No thanks," I sigh, at last. "Does she seem to be changing her mind yet?" I add, hopefully.
Shelly tilts her head to the side, giving me a look that clearly shows her pity for my pathetic ass. "I don't think so," she starts out, apathetically. "Like I said before, I tried telling her that you were in her section, but she refused to come over here and serve you. So, uh—yeah, I don't think so," she repeats in conclusion.
"Great," I mutter under my breath, disappointed at her words. "Just great."
"So you didn't want anything else, right?" she awkwardly asks me, ignoring my statement and interrupting my frustrated thoughts all together.
"Actually, if you could just bring me another cup of coffee, that'd be great," I finally answer her, reluctantly. After all, I've been sitting here nearly two hours now and with no luck whatsoever; Chloe absolutely won't talk to me, and she's literally avoiding me like the damn plague or something. And to make matters even worse, she still has at least another four hours more left to her shift—at least, if not more.
So, in case you haven't guessed it yet, I'm at the coffee house, waiting for her shift to end and praying that she'll talk to me when it finally does end. You see, when I came home last night, her door was locked, so naturally, there was no point in me even trying to wake her up and redeem myself for the stupid way I had acted. Then, this morning she simply gave me this dirty look as I woke up, only to find that she was on her way out the door for work. Yeah, as you can tell, my luck isn't really going all that great right now; I haven't even gotten one chance to talk to her, and she's admittedly pissed off about our little fight from last night.
Fuck.
I'm practically like, on stalker status right now. It's quite embarrassing, the way her co-workers keep looking over at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me, I presume. I even tried grabbing Chloe's hand once as she hurried by my table to help out another customer, but she quickly brushed me off, continuing on her way as if it never even happened.
I'm hoping that she gets a break soon though, because I'm starting to go a little crazy here. Last night wasn't exactly as fun as I had originally thought it was going to be. The entire time that I was out with Christianne and Trace, I kept worrying about what Chloe was doing and how bad I had fucked up with her earlier. I tried calling her cell phone from the bar, but she didn't answer. So anyways, I left early, and I was planning on coming home and apologizing to her. But by the time that I got home, as I told you before, her door was already locked and she was probably sleeping.
Shelly suddenly appears in front of me again, placing the mug of coffee down onto the table and giving me a slight smile. She pats my shoulder, as she turns and starts to walk away, saying, "Cheer up cutie, her lunch break is in an hour."
Thank you, Shelly. Did I mention that I really like that girl? I don't know her all that great; well okay, I don't know her at all, but at least she's giving me some sort of information here, yes?
I smile a little, my spirits picking up just a bit. Taking a sip of my coffee, I decide that maybe I should just try to keep myself busy until her break comes. It will be better than sitting here, staring at my watch and waiting for the seconds to tick by me, right? Right. And maybe I'll even try doing something nice for her while I wait...
Yeah—something nice, that's a good start for pleading forgiveness from her. I don't know exactly what I'm going to do for her, but I know I can figure it out. I'll just write her something; say sorry to her, or something, you know?
Leaning down, I pull out a notebook from my book bag that's lying under the table, determined to come up with something special for her. I drop the black book in front of me, turning the pages until I come across a blank sheet of a paper. I stare at the white, striped sheet for a bit, until finally, I lean down once more, pulling out a black pen to write with as well.
My hand reaches up to pull my baseball cap off, and I toss it towards the middle of the table. I stare down at the paper with deep concentration. My mind is racing, as I attempt to think of something clever here. I was always told in school that even when you don't know exactly what you wanna write, you should always just jot down whatever comes to mind at the moment, and more than likely, you'll find your way.
With this thought in mind, I swiftly bring the pen down and start writing away.
****
"Dude, what the hell are you doing?"
My head quickly snaps up at the familiar voice. Right away, I'm met with the sight of my two friends. Not-so-eloquently, they begin to sit their asses down at my once lonely and singly occupied table. Fuck, why in the hell are they here right now?
I distractedly look down again, as I feel something rapidly being slid from under me. I reach up to stop him, but I'm way too slow, and he already has got the notebook before I can even grab it back. Narrowing my eyes at Darnell, I hastily snap, "Give it back, fucker."
Darnell twists his mouth to the side, glancing over the paper with mock interest. "Man," he starts, jokingly. "Tell me you didn't write all this pussy crap yourself?" he continues, utter amusement lacing his voice. Trace holds his hand out in curiosity, as Darnell quickly passes the notebook over to him.
Turning his gaze onto me with raised eyebrows, he sarcastically mutters, "Oh, Chloe, I love you so much, baby." He blinks his eyes and then adds, "I'm Justin fucking Timberlake, and I'm so sprung off your luscious ass--blah blah blah." He finishes with a snort and Trace snickers right along with him, throwing the notebook onto the table in the process.
"Great shit, my man," Trace laughs.
I roll my eyes at them, flipping them both off and biting in the inside of my cheek. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking dickwads." Smoothing my hand over my head, I ask, "Why are you dumbasses following me around anyways? I told y'all I was gonna be here for a while."
"We just came to see your pussy whipped ass in action," Darnell laughs, at once. "It's been a while, so we had to come check this for ourselves, bro."
"Yeah, well, Chloe is going to be on break in a few minutes," I say, annoyed. In brilliant conclusion, I finish, "So fuck off."
"Alright, alright," Trace immediately relents, holding his hands up. "No need to get your panties in a twist, we're leaving in just a—"
Wait-a-fucking-minute.
No, I am not seeing things, am I? I know I just didn't see that motherfucker walk into here and take a seat in her section—okay, wait—yes, yes I did.
****
{Chloe}
I notice him walking over to us and fight the urge to roll my eyes. Great. The asshole is going to come over and cause a scene at my job while I'm on break, talking to a friend. Ridiculous. I honestly can't believe him, and I want him to go home and leave me alone, because in no way, shape, or form have I forgiven him for all the shit he said to me last night.
Bastard.
He comes over and takes a seat at our table like he owns the damn place or something. I give Alex an apologetic look, glaring at him next. "Back off, Justin," I say, rudely. "I don't want to talk to you right now, so just leave before you embarrass us both."
He clearly ignores my statement, turning his head in the opposite direction of me. "Do I know you?" Justin asks Alex, looking at him with distaste.
Alex rolls his dark eyes, obviously unimpressed by Justin's rude demeanor. "I don't think so, but can I help you with something?" he bites back at him.
Scratching his chin, Justin nods his head with a condescending smirk. "Yeah, actually," he begins. "I think it'd really help if you got up and left, so I could talk to my girlfriend alone."
"If Chloe wanted to talk to you, she wouldn't have asked me to come and see her," Alex replies, derisively.
I widen my eyes. Justin looks ready to maul his ass right about now. His jaw locks in place as he stares at Alex with intense anger. "Like I said, I want to speak to my girlfriend in private, so back the fuck off and leave before I make you leave," he finally grits out an answer.
"Justin," I say, at once. It will be over my dead body that they're going to start fighting like two idiotic, egotistical males and then get my ass fired for it all. "Stop it, okay? I'm at work." I know that the only way he is going to back down though, is if he gets his way. Turning my head to Alex, I apologetically start, "I'm really sorry Alex, but I didn't know he was going to be here. Can I call you later?"
A deathly staring match seems to be going on between the two of them, and right when I think they're never going to stop, Alex backs down and glances in my direction once more. "Yeah—yeah, sure," he relents, at last. "Sure sweetheart." He quickly gets up to leave, placing his hand on my shoulder as he walks by me, "Talk to you later," he says, sweetly.
"Fucker," Justin mumbles, as he walks off.
I roll my eyes at him, glaring at him with much the same anger he had just been directing towards Alex. "I told you I didn't want to talk right now, Justin. What part of I don't want to talk to you don't you understand?" I ask him, bitterly.
Justin's eyes darken at me. "I think the better question is why the hell were you meeting up with your ex-boyfriend? And why the fuck would you want to talk to him instead of me?"
I fight to control my temper, as I lower my voice to an angry hiss, "First of all, he was never my fucking boyfriend," I spit out, rudely. "And second of all, maybe I don't want to talk to you, because you were a fucking jerk to me last night."
Justin's face softens, as he reaches his hand out to place on top of my own that is resting on the wooden table. I quickly pull my hand out from under his own, the same angry look never leaving my face. "Don't touch me."
"Look, I'm sorry," he frowns, hurt. "You're right; I was a jerk last night."
"Sorry isn't good enough," I say, coldly.
"Well, what do you want from me, Chloe?" Justin asks me, incredulously. "I'm sorry. I messed up. Jesus Christ, I'm not perfect."
I shrug my shoulders and then shake my head at him. I don't even know what I want from him, but his sorry doesn't make me feel any better, and it doesn't help lesson any of my doubts about us. "Justin, I can't do this anymore, okay?" I say, at last. "We're obviously not meant to be together, so you're off the hook."
Justin's face crinkles in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about, Chloe? We had a fight, that doesn't mean we're not meant to be together. I don't get why you're making such a huge deal out of all this. I said I'm sorry."
"You just don't get it, do you, Justin?" I bite, dramatically. "You and I are nothing alike, okay? We don't like the same things, and we don't agree on anything," I begin. "Half the time we're together, we're arguing with each other. I'm a nerd and you're a social butterfly," I continue, dully. "And I'm sorry I like to do lame things like reading, and hanging out with older people and playing bingo, but that's just who I am. I'm not like you and your friends, and I never will be. You should be with someone like Christianne...or Elise."
"I don't even—"
I hold up my hand to stop him for interrupting me. "Maybe not them precisely, but someone else who is flirty and pretty and bubbly just like they are, Justin. They're your type—and I'm not. So let's just end all of this while it's just begun, and stop pretending, because Chris was right all along. You and me--are just a--a joke."
"Why are you doing this?" Justin suddenly asks me, his eyes sad. "I said I was sorry, Chloe. I'll do anything to make it up to you...whatever you want...please...."
"Justin," I whisper. "It's not about that. I forgive you, but I just don't think you and me are gonna work out," I conclude, gently. Licking my lips, I look around the semi-busy room and let out a small sigh. "I gotta get back to work."
I hurriedly get up and turn to leave, but Justin quickly reaches out and grabs for my arm. "Don't just walk away from me, Chloe," he says, desperately.
"Why? You did the same thing to me last night."
****
{Justin}
Rejection sucks. And for some reason, I seem to get a lot of that when it comes to Chloe. I've been dejectedly laying here in my bed for hours now, listening to depressing music and just being depressed in general. I don't know what to do with myself; I'm a pathetic idiot.
I think this is about the thirtieth time I've listened to Usher's "Burn," but I could really care less, as I reach over for my stereo remote and turn the volume up a notch. If I wasn't such a lovesick loser, maybe I'd go out and try to mack it up on some girl or something right now, but I really don't want to.
I just want Chloe, but she doesn't seem to get that fact. Maybe it's my fault though. I don't know. I mean, I try to show her I care about her, and yet, just a few hours ago, she's telling me that we aren't going to work out and that I should be with other girls...
Whatever...
I twist over in the bed, shoving a pillow over my head, the words of the song penetrating my skull with force.
I'm twisted cuz one side of me is tellin' me that I need to move on
On the other side I wanna break down and cry (ooooh)
I'm twisted cuz one side of me is tellin' me that I need to move on
On the other side I wanna break down and cry (cry)
When I feel like I've sufficiently cut off my air supply, I roll over onto my back again, angrily tossing my pillow away from the bed. It lands on the floor, and I groan, rubbing my hands over my eyes in frustration.
I just don't know anymore, you guys. I'm sick of all this shit. I mean, sometimes, I feel like it's sucking all of the fucking life out of me to even be in this damn relationship. I've lost a best friend over it, for God's sake. And I constantly feel guilty about the bet I made with Trace back when I hated Chloe in the first place.
It all seemed to be so much easier back then, when we both hated each other...
And I guess maybe Chloe is right; maybe we just don't belong together...
I don't know though--I just don't know anymore.
It just seems like no matter how hard I try, Chloe Marin is always going to be a losing battle.
Story Tags: Be the first to add a tag to this story
