I may expand on them both...I kinda love them.
Addiction
My foot bounces. I can’t stop
staring at my phone. I bite my lip and shake my head and tell myself that I
need to stop this. I can’t shake this feeling every time I wait.
I told myself in the beginning
that it was okay to just be a little bit infatuated. That’s what it’s like when
you start to fall in love, right? You can’t stop thinking about them and get
genuinely excited every time you’re about to get your next fix. Because that’s
what love is, right? Addiction?
I shake head at myself because I
feel like some kind of junkie. Maybe I am. But I wish he would get here
already. I’m bouncing back on the balls of my feet now outside next to the
student union building, impatient, because I feel like he’s never going to get
here. I mess with my high school class ring because I don’t have anything else
better to do, then huff, and take off my backpack. It’s going to take him
forever to get here and I don’t think I can wait much longer because I have a
class in five minutes and he said he’d get here. Just a quick fix. That’s all I
need.
I feel like I’m a walking cliché,
in love and addicted all at once. If that’s what this really is. I think that’s
what it is. I can’t tell because I’ve never experienced this before.
When he gets here, he’s all
muscle. Covered in tattoos. I met him at the bar that my friend dragged me to
last month. I was hesitant at first. I’m a good girl, not the type you would
think would get involved in this sort of stuff. I was a valedictorian in high
school and I always dove my nose into the books but I guess that isn’t the case
anymore now.
“Hey,” I said, bouncing on my
toes. “Got it?”
He smirks at me, his lip ring
glinting in the sun as he nods and hands me the bag of McDonald’s. “You are so
funny when you’re hungry.”
I grab the bag and rip it open
to find my salad. “Shut up, Andrew.” I sit down on the bench that I guess I
could have taken a seat in earlier but I’d been too antsy to get my
semi-healthy fast food fix. It’s a habit I’ve been trying to kick because the
Freshman 15 finally decided to attack my butt within the past two months but I
just can’t seem to get enough of these salads. “Mm, did you get me the
milkshake?”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says. “I left
it in the car.”
I huff and glare at him then he
laughs and pulls it from behind his back. “Here, a chocolate milkshake.”
I grab it and gulp some of it
down. “Thank you,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. I make a noise in protest
when he takes my shake away to kiss me briefly.
Twisting Fairy Tales
Cindy closed her eyes, wincing,
as her step sister stomped her foot.
“Why does she get a new computer when I don’t!?”
“I happen to have worked to pay
this off,” she offered as a solution to ____’s brewing temper tantrum.
Her step mother rolled her eyes.
“I don’t want to hear about it,” she said. “I have something far more exciting
for you and your sister than a computer.”
Cindy tucked her new computer
box behind her while she watched her two sisters look at their mother, excited.
Now more than ever she wished her father was there. He died a year before,
right after she moved to college, and she’d been dealing with her awful mother
and step sisters since. She was pretty sure Frieda merely let her stay with her
during college breaks because she owned their house. Quite often she thought
about throwing them out but she couldn’t.
Frieda had been her father’s
wife. Things had been good before he died. She hoped, on some level, that maybe
she could become close with her family again even though she was pretty sure
there wasn’t a chance in hell that would ever happen.
___ rolls her eyes, her
white-blonde hair neatly tucked behind her ears. “What could you possibly have
for us that would be better than getting a laptop, mother?”
Frieda smirked. Cindy didn’t
like it when she smirked. Maybe she needed to get up and go to her bedroom. It was
a wonder that her step mother even bought her anything for Christmas. At least
she was going easy on her this time and hadn’t asked her to act like their
personal maid all day—though Cindy had looked into her rights as a property
owner and she made it very clear that her step mother and step sisters could
not walk all over her.
“Well, here you go,” Frieda
said, taking two cards out of her purse and handing them to her daughters.
Who the heck used their purse in
the middle of a family gathering? Cindy bit back the urge to roll her eyes and
merely sat on the couch silently. She couldn’t help but admit to herself that
she was curious about what her step mother had gotten for the girls. Probably something
stupid like a yacht. Stupid because they lived in the middle of Texas and they
could buy property wherever they wanted to but they still insisted on living in
her house for some reason.
“OHMYGOD!” ____, the blonde,
shouted. “Tickets and a month long stay in France?”
“And not just France! Paris!”
Frieda gave her daughters a
genuine smile—something that had never been directed at Cindy, not since her
father died—and nodded.
“We have some extended family in
France, as you know. They’ve agreed to bring you both out there for a vacation.
You’ll be able to spend some time with cousins and experience the culture.”
Cindy looked longingly at her
computer.
France was definitely a better
present.
