AEROSMITH
// 10:42 AM - CELIE'S WALK-UP - NOLITA, NYC //
Celie runs her fingers through my hair,
all motherly and gentle.
It’s been four hours since Andrew walked out.
Three hours since I stopped pretending it bothered me.
Two hours since I ended up on Celie’s doorstep.
And one hour since I collapsed into her lap,
deciding to die here instead of facing whatever the fuck I'm feeling.
“Hate to say it, kid,” she says, all told-you-so and cheap shots, while I’m curled up in my crumpled date-night dress, makeup melting off me, “but you hadda know this was comin’.”
I shut my eyes because...
I did know.
The second my eyes lingered on Andrew for longer than a heartbeat,
my death sentence got signed.
Hearing it out loud just makes it official.
I peek up at her to throw a death glare,
but get caught up in her instead.
She’s sickeningly pretty from this angle.
All upside-down and glowing,
stray black curls
reflecting gold dust in the light,
too gorgeous for a girl
who lets men beat up her heart.
I pinch one of her curls between my fingers
and watch it bounce.
“No bullshit—you got the most perfect Cowgirl face I ever seen."
“Girl,what?”Her head snaps back as if I confessed to kissing Drake. “Cowgirl face?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Y'know, the position.”
I tug the curl for punctuation.
It springs back again.
