LOCAL GIRL FALLS OFF FACE OF THE EARTH AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE.
I meant to update this like, three weeks ago when whoops suddenly it's almost December.
Yeah, every time writing almost happens, life decides to bite me in the ass. But whatevs.
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter.
"You're what?" I asked, my head almost doing a complete 180 to face him.
"It's not that I wouldn't love to drive around with you in cold-ass Minnesota listening to shitty pop punk music for two weeks, but-"
"Okay, one, Man Overboard is not 'shitty pop punk'. Blink-182 are the ones with the 'crappy pop punk' hoodie that I have, if that's what you were going for." I interrupted, waving a finger in the air. "Two, that's not why I want you to come home for Christmas with me, and you know that."
James just stared down at the floorboard of his car. His stupid, high-end, mommy-guilt-bought Lamborghini. I hadn't even noticed his car was a Lamborghini until just now.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that James was slipping way out of my league. I noticed that his high-end sneakers shone a lot more brightly than my dulled-down Vans that were overdue a replacement. I noticed the way he never let a single hair out of place, meanwhile my own hair often got shoved down under a beanie because I didn't feel like messing with it most days. His high-dollar colognes with names in foreign languages that I couldn't pronounce even if I tried versuses my cheap cologne that my mom bought me last year for Christmas who's name I couldn't be bothered to remember. James was one-hundred-percent pure, shiny, Hollywood plastic trash and I was broken down, dirty garbage sitting in the driveway of some lower-end suburban home in Minnesota, frozen from the overnight chill and snow. Both incredibly useless and broken, but at least I was able to face the fact that I was trash, instead of hiding it behind the layer of shiny, hard plastic that covered the boxes that the Barbie's my sister used to tear the heads off of came in.
"If you didn't want to come with me, you could have just told me." I choked out. I forced myself out of the car and rushed to the back, pulling at the trunk's release.
"Kendall," Jame said, hurrying after me, "you know I would much rather be in Minnesota with you, it's just- I need this. I need this a lot more than you need me, I think."
"Maybe you do need this." I spat, my voice full of vitriol. "Maybe you do. But I fucking want you, okay? And maybe it's selfish of me, but I want you a lot more than you need to stay home."
"Yeah, you know what? That is incredibly fucking selfish. You're being an awful fucking person, Kendall Knight, and you know it." James shouted. "You're doing it on purpose, because this is your defense system. Stuff goes down the shitter, you get cruel. It's this thing you do that I don't understand. Does it have to do with that guy? I don't know, and you're probably not gonna tell me." He popped the trunk and pulled his stuff out. "We'll talk about this later, when you're done being a complete brat."
"Like you have any room to talk, you spoiled rich kid from the fucking upper east side!" I yelled after him. I was talking out my ass at this point, but I didn't really care, honestly.
"The upper east side is in New York, dumbass!" He retaliated, spinning around to face me, but still walking towards the dorms.
"It was a metaphoric upper east side, jerk!" I borderline screamed as I dragged my bag out of his trunk and then slammed it shut, hoping it did some damage.
"Bitch!" James called after me, before disappearing around the corner of the dorm building.
"Dick!" I shouted, throwing my bag on the ground, but by then he was gone.
I stood in empty parking lot for half an hour, trying to cool down. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't going to let myself. I was just glad James hadn't tried to hit me or shove me, because I'm pretty sure I would have broken down had he done that.
I forced myself to walk back to the building after I was sure I wouldn't start yelling again, but my moves where slow and mechanic. By the time I got back to my empty dorm room, it had probably been an hour since we'd gotten back.
James had obviously gone somewhere that wasn't our room, because other than his unopened bag lying on his desk, there was no sign he'd evenn arrived back home from break. I tossed myself onto the bed and scrolled through my music on my phone, muttering, "They're not shitty pop punk," every time I scrolled past a Man Overboard song.
I heard a knock on the bathroom door that I didn't feel compelled to answer. I pulled my pillow over my face and moaned loudly.
"I'm guessing now's not the best time to ask how break went." Logan said as I heard the door squeak fully open.
"You're a freakin' psychic." I muttered.
Logan let out one of those heavy-breath laughs, that don't actually sound like a laugh, but serve as an acceptable filler for a full-on laugh. "What happened?"
"He's spending Christmas with his Dad." I said.
"And?" Logan inquired, sitting down on the side of my bed.
"And he's supposed to be spending that break in Minnesota. With me." I explained.
"Ah, so you're feeling rejected and hurt, obviously." Logan stated in a monotone. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I'm pretty sure he just vaguely gestured to my entire body.
"Yeah, kinda." I sighed. "And a little guilty; I kinda went postal on him when he told me."
Logan just hummed.
"You're not my psychiatrist, just so you know, so don't get cozy with this gig." I said, gently kicking his back.
Another breathy laugh. "I know; I didn't go to art school to become a psychiatrist, Kendall."
"He's so out of my league." I admitted.
"Dumbass," Logan rolled his eyes, flicking my knee, "he doesn't deserve you."
"No, he doesn't. But he's still out of my league." I said, dropping the pillow.
"Maybe, but that's just because he has money. Money he doesn't even want." Logan shrugged.
"Huh?" I asked, confused.
"Just ask him when he gets back. I get the feeling you're both in for a long, awkward conversation when he get's back from his idiot walk." Logan said all-too-calmly, heading back towards the bathroom.
"You talk like you hate his guts." I muttered, amused.
"Nah, I love the guy. But he's a moron. Like, 'he-asked-me-how-to-spell-orange' moronic. But his heart's in the right place, and he's been through a lot, so, I can't say I wouldn't want to be brainless and hot if I were in his position." Logan explained. "He's honestly probably a lot smarter than he lets on, but doesn't want to be. A lot going on in that sexy brain of his."
I didn't really know how to respond to that, so I just covered my face back up with the pillow.
I don't really know how much time passed between Logan and mine's conversation and when James finally showed up, but my guess is a pretty good while, because it was light out when Logan and I were talking, and I can't really say the same for when James got back.
"I was told that you don't want to be from the metaphorical upper east side. Care to confirm?" I asked, not removing the pillow.
"Confirmed." James sighed. "Let me let you in on a little secret- no one who's rich actually wants to be rich. Like, yeah, they think they want to be rich and famous, but in reality, it just ends up destroying their relationships and lives."
"Then why do you want to be an actor?" I asked, confused.
"There's a slim chance I could be happy doing what I love." he said, staring at the floorboards. "Hollywood killed me, man. I was so happy until I realized I had a role to fill; be happy that you're allowed to go and do anything you want, and it just so happens to be music. I'm pretty much expected to stay in the spotlight somehow, or else I'm considered a detriment to my mother's life."
"Bullshit, you wouldn't be a detriment to anybody, you're flawless."
"I'm trash, to be honest."
Called it. I thought.
"Same." I said.
James laughed. "We honestly are messed up, aren't we?"
"I'm still pissed as hell at you." I clarified. "If you thought you were escaping my wrath."
"Write a scathing song about me, sweetheart." James encouraged sarcastically.
"Why do you act like you're dumb?" I blurted.
"Excuse me?" James asked the wall.
"I mean, you know how to make yourself sound all well-learned and uppercrusty, but then you turn around and act like you couldn't write a proper sentence." I said, rolling my shoulders to pop them. "There's got to be something behind that."
"It's an excellent marketing ploy." James admitted. "You dumb yourself down but still sound like you know what you're talking about. You can't really say much, Mr. 'Upper East Side'."
"Honestly, I just really always wanted to shout at someone like I was in some dumb New Yorker dramedy like that." I said, staring up at the bottom of the top bunk.
"I could tell." James said. He picked up a playstation controller and tossed it at me. "A round of Portal 2 co-op?" he suggested, gesturing to our TV.
I rolled my eyes. "We aren't gonna get anything solved because I'll be taking my rage out on your robot, I hope you know that."
"Yeah, I know." James said.
As we sat down for a riveting game of him trying to solve puzzles and me finding new, inventive ways to kill him, I knew we were in for a long next few weeks.
Lord, I'm making up for the lack of drama in my real life in this fic. Fun fact: this originally started out as a dumb college AU that was just supposed to have a lot of gay and drug usage, but nope, it got intense.
I promise I won't wait another month to update next time. Then again, I'm kind of an unreliable person when it comes to promising things, so maybe don't take my word for it. Idk.