Is this my revenge or something?
This has been the second week Rosie hasn’t been in our Art History class. I couldn’t care less about this class, but doesn’t Rosie need this class for her major? Our professor enters the room and everyone quiets down. I look down at my phone, hoping Rosie texted me back, but I don’t have much hope. She hasn’t texted me since we had that huge fight in the lounge a couple of weeks ago.
I felt like shit leaving campus that day without apologizing to Rosie. I should’ve just sucked it up and been the bigger person. Rosie, from what I’ve learned from being her friend, gets extremely defensive. She will try to hurt you and insult you to not make it about her anymore, and I can’t sit here and lie and say what she said about Kalia and I didn’t hurt. But, maybe it hurt because it was the truth.
That’s when I realized that Rosie’s defensive mechanism was to hurt people when people hurt her with the truth. She was dating Prescott Jones, and she didn’t want anyone to know; not even the one person she trusted.
I just didn’t understand why would she have such a strong opinion on the lifestyle Kalia has. She didn’t even know Kalia, yet she hated her like she did. She hated her before I even really became friends with her; like is Kalia an ex of Prescott’s or something? She wasn’t, and she never acted like she was, so what the fuck was it about Kalia and her life that ticked Rosie off?
I envied Kalia’s life because I knew I couldn’t be the type of boyfriend her life requires. I’m not put together, I’m covered in tattoos, my hair is all over the place, and my fashion crosses over to angsty emo with a hint of baggy and homeless-looking.
“Micah?” my professor called out. I looked up.
“Yes?”
“I asked if you heard from Rosie lately. Is she alright?” my professor asked. What the fuck was I suppose to say? Yeah, she’s just being her moody and stubborn self and probably doesn’t want to be in the same class as me anymore!
“She’s alright. She’s been really sick. I’ll share my notes with her.” I quickly said. My professor didn’t even question it; he continued with the attendance sheet. I was growing angry now; if she was really avoiding coming to class because she’s still mad at me, then that’s really pathetic of her. Like, I could’ve just dropped the class–
What the fuck are you talking about? Dropping a class for a chick?
I would if it meant she would come back to class and pass for her major.
…
“My dad doesn’t hate you, babe,” Dani laughed as she told Tanner. I couldn’t help but laugh at Tanner’s straight face.
“Your dad literally gives me the death stare every time I come over,” Tanner responded.
“I give you the death stare too; it runs in the family,” Dani protested.
“Oh yeah, your mom invented resting bitch face and passed it down to you,” I teased. Dani nodded her head, agreeing with me. Tanner doesn’t move. I laughed it off and continued to scroll through my phone while we wait for our pizza to come out.
“Besides, my dad is happy if you keep me happy, and buying me pizza makes me happy,” Dani tells Tanner. He smiles and kisses her on the forehead. I make a gagging noise just to fuck with them. Of course, Dani rolls her eyes at me, calling me a hater. I looked back down at my phone, laughing.
“So, Tonya said that there’s another gig in a couple of weeks at the lounge,” Tanner said to me. I looked back up, away from my phone. “She asked if you were going to perform.”
“Eh, I’ll think about it. It’s been hard lately to find time to make any new music anyway,” I responded back, not really interested in doing another gig at the lounge; not after what happened last time with Kalia.
“Dude, it’s for their New Year’s Eve event. You know that’s the biggest event of the year for them,” Tanner explained. That still wasn’t convincing enough. I felt like the Oxygen Lounge wasn’t the same now that Rosie knows about it. It felt like it was now a place where Rosie and I became friends, and with us not being on great terms, I couldn’t think about the Oxygen Lounge.
“I don’t know, I’ll see. When’s the deadline to sign up?” I asked.
“November 29th,” I widen my eyes in disbelief. That was literally in a week and a half.
“I can’t, I really don’t have anything prepared,” I responded. Dani huffs and puffs, like she always does, at my answer.
“You’ll find time,” she started. “You always do anything. It’s not like you to miss an important event like that.”
I had no energy to go back and forth with Dani, so I was happy that the pizza came out at the right time. I take a slice of pizza and immediately place it on a paper plate. My phone vibrates on the table. I was hoping it was Rosie; I just need her to answer my fucking messages.
“Man, you’re like glued on your phone lately; you texting another chick now?” Dani teased. I brush it off immediately, not really caring about what she was saying. It wasn’t Rosie. It wasn’t even a message; it was a notification from Twitter. My eyes widen. I felt sick to my stomach.
Heir millionaire Prescott Jones was taken into custody after a violent encounter broke out in South Brooklyn late last night. Reports say the incident involved and a woman in her early 20’s.
I’m internally panicking. Rosie.
Letters From Liz. 