{Chloe}
So I think I've officially recovered from my endurance of the date-from-hell that I had last night. It's morning now, and I feel calmer and much less angry. Of course, that's not to get it twisted because I still do very much hate the bastard. I'm just not angry about it anymore.
I'm on to bigger and better things now--specifically--my chores. I'm actually cleaning out my closet, getting ready to start a load of laundry. It really is a blessing that Chris owns a washer and dryer because this conveniently provides that I don't have to make visits to the laundry mat. And this is especially nice since I go through clothes like Justin goes through hoes. Heh. (And in case you haven't realized, I'm not only trying to rhyme, but that's also another means of me explaining to you that I have a lot of stuff to wash usually.)
When I finally make it to the laundry machines, I am beyond annoyed, as I end up finding his clothes still inside of the washer. It looks as if he's ran his load and had them cleaned; yet he didn't take the time out of his pathetic life to stick them into the dryer. Why am I not surprised? Justin is probably the sloppiest, filthiest pig of them all. And he's probably still sleeping, too. Guess I'll just have to go wake him up. Lord knows I'm not touching his shit.
At first, I attempt at a few soft, simple knocks. When that doesn't do the trick, I opt for a more effective set of banging. "What?" he finally yelps out, tiredly.
"Oh Justin, lovely," I start in a sweet voice, talking through the barrier that is his door. "I need you to get your stuff out of the washer. I'm trying to do laundry." See...I can be nice! Usually, I'm the one that actually tries to be a little civil out of the two of us. It's only after Justin pisses me off and/or goes on his little spchiels that I have to get attitude with him. (Who'd of thought that he does both quite often?)
"Fuck off!" the idiot loudly replies in response to my request.
Okay? Again, do you see what I mean? I will not tolerate his shit though.
So I hurriedly storm away from his door, a scowl on my face. I'll show him not to take my nice, plausible complaints lightly. Quickly, I empty out the dirty clothes in my laundry bin and start to instead shove his wet ones inside. His clothes smell nasty, due to the fact that he's an idiot and can't finish a job right, of course. Once I have all of it sloppily thrown into my basket, I head straight for his room again.
This time I don't bother to knock, and lucky for me, the jackass hasn't locked his door. With one swift movement, and no hesitation inside of me mind you, I make my way over to his bed. Then, I hover above him and proceed to dump the entire contents of the basket onto the top of his big, fat head.
He immediately growls, pushing at the clothes and cursing under his breath as he attempts to sit up. "What the fuck, bitch?!" he shouts at me. (Wow, he's intelligent. Note the sarcasm, please).
"I told your ass to get out of the bed and put it in the dryer. You didn't wanna listen," I reply, scathingly. "Maybe next time you'll take care of your shit."
Justin grabs for a pair of his jeans and chucks them at my retreating form just as I near the exit. I can't help but laugh when he misses. "Nice try, moron," I add, immediately slamming his door behind me on my way out.
***
{Justin}
That stupid, little bitch. I swear to God, I can't wait to fuck her over. She's really starting to push me off of the deep end. What kind of sane person wakes you up by dumping clothes onto your fucking head? She has no right to mess with me like that, and I'm gonna go yell at Chris about his dumb ass friend. After all, I need someone to bitch at.
"Chris, that slut walked into my room, and threw my shit on me!" I gripe, not bothering to knock on his door. He too was sleeping like me--sleeping like me before Cruella fucking de Ville came and brought her vengeance. And to think, I took the bitch to a concert last night! What the hell kind of appreciation is this? You would of thought I'd at least have gotten my dick sucked off in return...but no!
"Justin, what the hell are you barging into my room and ranting about now?" he asks me, annoyed. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you two that I don't give a shit about your petty arguing. Both of you get a clue and leave me alone about it."
"She threw shit on my head!" I repeat, exasperatedly. "Can't we just fucking evict her?"
"Go. Away. Justin."
"Evict me? Why don't we evict your stupid ass?!"
Oh, lovely. Let's all rejoice--the Ice Princess has entered the room! "Shut the fuck up. This is an A and B conversation so C your way out!" I growl at her.
"Oh my God, did you learn that one in the third grade, dumbass?"
"If both of you don't get the hell outta my room right this second, I will evict both of your pathetic, sorry asses!" Chris shouts.
Whoa, buddy. He seems pissed. And so I quickly scurry out of the room, giving Cruella a glare of death as I do so.
***
Okay. So I've had a few drinks, taken a nap, and had a chance to think about this in a more rational sense. Not to mention, I'm still getting the brunt of Trace's taunting as we sit around and chug down our beers.
"That's fuckin' hilarious, man. You didn't even get a kiss? Pathetic, yo. Just give it up and stop torturing yourself," he suggests, amused.
"Listen, Stumpy," I start, irately using my oh-so-nice-and-affectionate nickname for my shorter friend. "I'm not gonna let you win this damn bet, so just get the fuck on over it and build a bridge. My work with the Ice Princess is just gonna take a little more time than I thought."
"Ice Princess?" he raises his eyebrows. "So now you've got pet names for her too? How sweet," he coos out, teasingly.
"Shut it," I reply, as I rub at my now throbbing temples. See what this bitch does to me? "I'm in no fuckin' sort of mood for your crap today. I already have to think of some insincere way of getting back onto her good side."
"Sorry dawg," Trace relents, and then gulps down the rest of his drink. "Why don't you get her some flowers?" he offers. "See--I'm a nice guy--and I know you don't have a chance with her, so I'm even offering you some helpful tips."
"Flowers?" I roll my eyes. "What kind of pussy buys flowers for a chick? That shit is overrated. I don't do romance...I fuck the women and send them packing."
Trace rolls his eyes and chuckles under his breath, amused I suppose. "Oh boy--you're so gonna lose this, man. And badly I tell you...badly."
That's what he thinks.
***
{Chloe}
Lord, I'm tired.
Class was completely draining, and I have a ton of reading to do when I get home. I can only pray that Justin is gone, because I seriously don't think I have the energy to go at it with him again. Yesterday totally put me in a bad mood--and I mean for the whole entire day. Really, I shouldn't let the stupid bastard affect me like this. He's a jerk, and at this point, I could give a crap what happens to my deal with Elise.
The money would be nice but not that nice. Nothing is worth lowering myself to the standards of a pig such as he. Nothing. I'll just have to figure out a way to break this to Elise kindly. I really do like the girl, but I just can't go on with this shit anymore. I mean, I already compromised myself and went out on a date with the ass. Must have been a real ego-booster for him. Too bad he doesn't know that I only did it for the sole purpose of cash. (And I'd inform him of this little bit of information if I didn't have Elise's confidentiality to worry about.)
Back to the money part though. I can live without it. This whole thing is pathetic of me anyways, I realize. You don't have to mention it again. I know.
Umm. Okay, this is a tad bit weird, and my stomach is now swirling with a set of butterflies. Why, you wonder? Well, because there is a lovely bouquet of flowers on top of my dresser that I notice upon entering my room. And no, they were not there when I left.
I quickly head for the vase and tear at the white envelope labeled with my name. Apparently someone didn't get the address wrong--they really are for me. And I honestly can't think of whom...
Well, fuck me. Justin-the-bastard-Timber-slut has given me flowers. Take heed of his stupid note and the fact that they are coming from him, and it's kind of a sweet and flattering gesture. My eyes once again scan his sloppy writing, and despite all my attempts, I involuntarily have to smile--and even giggle like a stupid little girl. Yes, I am--once again--pathetic I tell you.
Ella,
(And yes, the asshole has come up with more than one way of using the term 'Cruella' on my behalf. Not to mention the fact that I've heard the damn song being chanted under his breath about eighty times by now.)
But anyways, back to the note...
Now I know this isn't a fur coat...
(Haha, isn't he clever? Not.)
...but I really do hope you enjoy them anyways. Consider them as a peace offering, will you? Because I am truly sorry about the way things have gone down since the horrible ending of our date. I had a great time with you besides the fact, so please, give a guy a break and forgive me?
Blah. He's so full of it.
And why does he keep messing with me anyways? Maybe he's doing it for the sole purpose of torture.
So why am I still smiling? I don't frickin' know!
***
{Justin}
"Come in."
I crack the door open, a bright smile on my face. "You get my flowers sexy?" I ask, cheerfully, though the fact that they have been moved over to her nightstand answers my question anyways.
Chloe rolls her eyes at me and nods. "Yes, thank you, I guess."
I put my hand to my ear and tease, "I don't think I heard you. What was that?"
"Thank you!" she says louder, more aggravated.
"You're welcome, C." (I'll let her think that stands for Chloe, but we all know what it really means.)
"Great."
"So, you forgive me then?" I prod, raising my eyebrows. "I really do like you," I add, sweetly. Bullshit I really like this bitch. I'd really like if she'd let me screw her, more like it.
"Whatever," she says, nonchalantly. "I guess so. But I'm kinda busy, and I'm about to leave with a friend, so if you would..."
"Where are you going?" I immediately pry. Chloe doesn't ever go out with anyone; and Chris doesn't count, mind you. But Chris is at work, so she ain't going out with him, so who the hell is she going with? It better not be a guy.
"Now, Justin, is that really any of your concern?"
"Well, you're my lady," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, confirming her question with a big fat yes. "So yes, it is my concern."
"And you're delusional," she smiles at me. I watch as she sprays some perfume onto her wrists and then rubs them together before going to her closet and pulling out a coat. "Now I forgave you, and we're cool, blah blah blah...we'll talk later?"
I frown at her in response. "But..."
"Bye, Justin," Chloe interrupts, patting me on the shoulder as she strolls past me.
What the fuck? If this girl is going on a date, I'm gonna shoot myself.
No, I take that back.
I'm gonna shoot her date.
***
{Chloe}
"He got you flowers? He never bought me flowers!" Elise exclaims at me. "I'm telling you, Chloe. His pathetic ass has it for you! I can't wait till you..."
"Yeah, about that," I quickly interrupt her, adding solemnly, "I don't think I can go through with this deal, Elise."
Her pretty face drops, and I can just tell she's upset and going to flip out in a second. "What do you mean? I thought we had this arranged already! You can't just back out of it, that's not right. And I thought we were friends now."
I look down at the floor of the Blockbuster carpet in guilt. "I know, and I really do consider you a friend, but..."
"But nothing!" she exclaims, dramatically. "You can't do this to me, Chloe! Please, think of all of the women he's messed with! Don't you want to be the one?"
"The one?" I ask, puzzled. Like I said, I really do like Elise, but sometimes she can act and say stuff that is just a tad bit...weird?
"The one that gets to dump his ass and make him pay! Come on, don't be stupid now!"
I sigh as I flip the Season Two DVD of Sex and the City in my hands, idly glancing at all of the other movies as I listen to her. Why does she have to be such a drama queen about this? "Elise, come on. I'm sure you can find someone else, someone more..."
"Please, Chloe. Don't give up on me now. Please," she begs me, pathetically.
Fuck. Why am I so nice? Why can't I just say no to people? I hate Justin. I hate him. "Fine..." I regretfully mumble, sighing loudly.
Elise, being the bubbly cheerleader type that she is, (Lord, usually her type drives me fuckin' nuts), immediately squeals and gives me a sideways hug. "Thank you, thank you! I knew I could convince you! You just gotta stick in there, girly," she adds, happily.
Damn the optimistic bitch. Easy for her to say. She doesn't live with the jerk.
***
{Justin}
"Hey, Ma," I greet, walking towards my bedroom, cordless phone in hand. "How ya been doin'?"
"Justin, it's so good to hear from you sweetheart. I've missed you!"
I smile. Now I know you all probably don't believe it, but I really am a mama's boy. My mom is the best person in the world. Living out of state is a nice thing at times; I get away with a lot of shit that she would normally disapprove of and notice me doing had I been living with her. But on the other hand, I do miss her a lot. "Me too."
"And how is Christopher?"
"Good. Same as last time you saw him," I reply, plopping down onto my bed and leaning my head against the soft pillows.
"What about your other roommate? You two getting along any better?" she asks me, questioningly.
"Eh, Mama, she's a bitch. I still hate her," I admit. "I took her on a date, though."
My mom chuckles, and I can just hear the exasperation in her voice. "Sweetie, if you don't like her then why did you take her on a date? And why do you hate her so much? Chris tells me she's a very sweet girl."
"Judged upon who? Hitler? Then yeah, I guess you could say she's sweet," I explain, dryly.
Mom laughs, scolding me. "Justin..."
"What? She treats me like crap," I whine, pathetically. "And I took her out on a date...um because, well, I sort of like her, I guess?"
"Aww, my poor baby. Do you have a crush on a girl that hates you?" she teases, then adds on, "I think you can find other girls that actually like you, can't you sweetie?"
"I have to have her though," I reply, persistently.
And this is true. I have to have her, because I have a bet to win. I won't tell that to my mother though. She would personally fly her ass out here and smack me one upside the head if I did. I prefer to keep myself on her good side, you know?
"Honey, did you tell her?" she asks, getting all into the conversation. My mom is so cute; she loves gossip and all this girly business shit I tell her.
"Sort of. But hey, listen, what's something--you know--like romantic--" I start out, and yes, yes, I am cringing big time. "--that I can do for her? I need some ideas from a woman's perspective."
"Well," my mom replies, enthusiastically. "I don't know sweetie--there's so many things! Why don't you buy her a little gift to show your interest? Something that she likes so it will impress her. Make her dinner? Write her a letter. Take her out somewhere nice...movie, dinner? I don't know, sweetie..." she repeats, trailing off.
I scratch at my chin and think about this for a moment. Eh, and so far, the only three or so conclusions that I'm drawing from this advice?
A) This is shit.
B) I'm pissed that I have to make such efforts; I normally just lay on false charm; I don't ever actually try to do something genuinely sweet and caring for a woman's sake.
C) And this one is the most prominent thought for me; I'm damning the day that I ever decided to pursue Chloe Marin.
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