I don’t know who you arrrrrrrrrrrreeeeee.
He’s probably fed you his whole sob story about how I was a manipulative bitch and that I cheated on him and blah blah blah. I’m honestly not as bad as he likes to make me out to be, I promise.
So, you didn’t manipulate him and cheat on him with his ex-best friend, then?
Don’t worry. Honesty is all you’re getting from me. But if you’re starting to get doubts, now’s your chance to back out.
Me? Doubtful? Who do you think you’re talking to, love?
Brooke sighed and sipped her drink as she pushed through people. This was perfect, she was dead, Matty was going to kill her. Ten minutes, that’s how long she would spend looking for Jay. If she couldn’t find him after that then she would just call Matty. Brooke paused for a moment and downed the rest of her drink, then went back to looking for her. Feeling someone trying to grab her ass she spun around and glared at them, then kept walking. He had to be here somewhere. After a moment, she decided to just drink the drink she had gotten for Jay as well. Sipping it slowly she pushed passed a couple and rolled her eyes, “Damn it Jay…”
For a second, Jay let panic wash over him. What if he couldn’t find her? What if she got lost and then kidnapped, and what if — Jay stopped in place, almost running into a girl dancing past with a man behind her, hands on her waist, and squeezed his eyes closed. He was still having nightmares, and they kept getting worse, especially since Chance and he had broken up. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and in his line of vision, towards the bar, but still a few globs of people away, was Brooke. He breathed a sigh of relief, barely hearing himself over the music, and then tried to make his way through the crowd, saying ‘excuse me’ when people didn’t see him. “Brooke!” His voice attempted to match the volume of the music, but she didn’t look over as he paced toward her. “Brooke,” he said again when he was in reaching distance, and he softly grasped her arm from behind, catching her attention.
Girl At Home - Taylor Swift
Okay then. It’s really quite simple, sort of. What you have to do is paint, and for every painting that you finish, you have to hand them over to me. I won’t show your paintings to anyone, but I will give you my honest opinion on each one. Any questions?
Okay… I’m trusting you on this. I’ll get to work, then, and don’t be afraid to tell me if it’s shit, alright? I’m good with criticism.
Maybe more? Hm… why don’t we do a little experiment? That is if you’re up for it.
Of course I’m up for it, love.
Ha, now isn’t that a nice reaction. But yes, I’m the Robin, as you said. From what I can tell, and what he’s told me, you’re his best friend? God, I can only imagine what he’s told you about me.
Yeah… Not very good things. And yes, that’s me, so I’m not sure I should really be making friendly conversation with you.
“It’s me we’re talking about, babe, I’m sure you know exactly what reacquainted means in this case,” he says with a light laugh, though the sound was pretty hollow. Matt had been feeling like utter shit ever since he and Eric broke up and nothing seemed to be helping at all. Not the inhuman amounts of alcohol he’d consumed, not the random hookups, not freaking Kenneth and his mother out by hiding the rings in one of the vases on the wedding day. The only time he even remotely felt like himself was, well, now.. with Jay. The younger male mentions something about being positive that there was some form of alcohol in the fridge before rolling off him and falling onto the ground, making Matt roll his eyes and laugh a bit as he stood to follow.
Jay opens the refrigerator door quickly once he gets to it, peering in and seeing a few bottles of red wine, one or two of white wine, and then other bottles of beer that Jay’s never been fond of. He grabs a bottle of the red, and then turns around, leaning up against the fridge while wiggling his eyebrows at Matt. He’s trying to remember the last time he was this carefree (without Chance), but there’s no instance in his mind until he remembers the time last year when he and Matt had come back to camp, that night. Other than then, the two of them had been suffering through a rough patch that left a sour taste in Jay’s mouth. Jay takes a second to pull off the cork in the top with his teeth, then sets it down onto the counter, along with the bottle, as he scavenges for glasses. He attempts to climb up onto the porcelain counter, but he’s too short, and his knees don’t reach up quite high enough to hoist him all of the way up. Letting a huffy breath leave his lips, Jay rolls his eyes. It’s like they designed these cabins just so Jay couldn’t reach things.