Bitter
—Synonyms
1. acrid, biting, distasteful. 3. distressing, poignant, painful. 4. biting, nipping. 5. fierce, cruel, ruthless, relentless. 7. acrimonious, caustic, sardonic, scornful.
The first time it happens is the easiest to justify to myself- it was a mistake, we were drunk, they broke up, I hate him.
The second and third times are slightly harder, but I still manage it. By the forth and fifth I no longer care about the excuses or my misplaced loyalty, I just need to feel the pleasure and the pain.
By the 10th it's all I can feel anymore.
The night of Rosalie Hales party I'm sprawled out on Alice's bed on an array of pink scatter cushions, I pull the heart shaped sequined one that's grating my ass from underneath me and throw it on the floor.
Alice is in front of her mirror fruitlessly trying to cover the grey swollen bags underneath her red eyes.
Her breath hitches as she repeats her pathetic whispers, "why me?", "what did I do to deserve this" and my personal favourite "I thought he loved me".
I answer with the generic bullshit expected off of a best friend, "It's not your fault, you couldn't of known" whilst my mouth is itching to scream, "How could you not see this coming! Everyone else did! How could you be so stupid as to fall in love with Edward Cullen!" but I bite my tongue.
By 8:45 Alice has somehow managed to slither her way into the sluttiest slip of a dress I have ever laid eyes on.
When she lights up a menthol cigarette, a newly acquired habit, I half expect her hair to ignite after the copious amount of hairspray she has just poisoned my lungs with.
She inhales deeply after stepping into four inch red heels "how do I look?"
"Like a stripper" Judging from the rows of pearly whites she flashes me from between her blood red lips I'd say this response pleases her.
"Lets roll" I slip on my over the knee boots, don't judge they're not slutty when teamed with a pair of black skinnies and a vest with Keith Richards on the front, but maybe the lack of bra and the obvious nipple erection is.
When we get to Rosalie's the party is already in full swing and spilling out into the garden.
Alice's eyes are flickering all over looking for him and I can't find the energy to suppress my own eye roll.
As we push our way through the mass of swarming bodies into the kitchen we pass Mike Newton retching into a plant pot, Miss Hale will be pleased.
"Hey Bitches, you took long enough" Rosalie is sat in a group around the table playing ring of fire, or at least Emmett is while she grinds her trunk all over his junk- semantics.
I leave Alice fidgeting and still surveying the perimeter and make my way over to the drinks.
After downing a large measure of JD- the only man I've ever loved, I pour two glasses of what I think is vodka punch and take one over to Alice.
She's asking Rose if he's coming, her top lip already quivering, I decide I've put up with enough of that shit tonight.
I grab Tyler by the sleeve as he passes "do you have a spliff?" we go outside for to smoke, he's already half-baked and doesn't notice I'm paying no attention to the superficial bullshit he's spewing.
After a while my shoulders start to loosen and my mind starts to relax, I walk back past Tyler into the kitchen.
I don't look up until I hear the distressed whimper fly from Alice's mouth, her eyes are now focused intently.
Edward fucking Cullen has just arrived.