Is it okay to give up?
Because if it is now will be the best damn time to do so. I have managed to drag my lazy ass all the way across campus to Charlie's complex with so much determination that I didn't take one second to think about the fact that Charlie might not be home-or anyone else for that matter. It's either that or everyone's too lazy to get the door which is always the case with my friends and I.
Melissa didn't find it funny when I walked in with nothing but my tails tucked between my legs for our meeting today. She said something along these lines-Get me that first draft by Thursday or kiss your internship goodbye.' I had to use Samantha's FBI skills to find Charlie's accommodation.
That girl can find a needle in a haystack. I don't know how she does it.
Boo thang
Charlie lives at the complex for the athletes next to Boyer Hall. Fourth floor, apartment 208. You owe me a large pizza from Papa John's-just cheese.
But I've been pushing the round white button embedded into the equally white door for a while now-no one is opening. Five more times, I call it quit with a sigh and retreat from the door.
The door's definitely not opening.
I start walking towards the lift at the end of the hallway taking in just how beautiful this complex corridor looks under the white lights. The corridor floor is covered in a plush grey carpet, a brown door mat separating the door to each room.
I've heard that the athletes get everything fancy, I just didn't think it was this fancy. I mean this place looks like it leaped out of a 5 star hotel as I stepped into the reception. Yes, they have a reception and a receptionist. What for? I don't know.
I step into the lift feeling worse than I did when I stepped out of it as I stare at my reflection in the mirror stuck to the elevator walls. I've definitely had better days but that doesn't change the fact that I look like crap. My hair is everywhere-courtesy of the evening LA breeze and my brown eyes look tired as hell.
Even after crawling into bed at only 2am in the morning, I forced myself to get out of bed as early as 7 so that I can make it to Starbucks at exactly 8 O'clock to meet Charlie. Despite the gruesome hangover that I had and my unwillingness to live, I managed to sit through an hour of staring out of the window hoping that before I finish my second venti I'd see him walk into the coffee shop with an apologetic smile on his face as he takes a seat opposite me.
Who was I kidding? He was never going to show up and I was a fool for even thinking he would.
For stupid reason-one of it being my age, the other being my experience-Charlie doesn't think I'm suitable to write his article and that doesn't only make me mad but also hurts me in ways that I can't explain. One look and Charlie has seen my own biggest fear-how much of shit journalist I am. I had high hopes for myself with this internship but I can't even get one thing right.
He wants someone who looks like she knows what the fuck she's doing. Not me. A sorry excuse for a journalist who can't even get a damn interview sorted out-who has no idea how to start her first draft.
And I'm too much of a chicken to change that so I guess Shadé was right after all.
"I'm pathetic."
I look away from myself, loathing the type of person I am as the doors ding open. I hate going into that part of myself. I try to do things that make me happy. I pray to God to be happy with myself because I know if I dare go there, to that part of me that secretly hates herself, I might fuck myself up mentally. But today as I walk out of building the into the evening I can't help but think about how easy life would be if I could just not be anxious and scared all the time.
If I could just be like everyone.
"Lorraine?" A masculine voice snaps me out of the dark thoughts piling into my mind and I stop walking to turn to the familiar voice. Green eyes are scanning me intently and a small smile graces my face as I realise who those gorgeous globe belong to "It's Lorraine right?"
"Yeah, it's Lorraine." I smile politely, my hands automatically going on my shoulders to readjust my bag instead of fiddling my fingers anxiously at the possibility of a conversation.
"You remember me?" He asks, lips curling into a small smile.
It's hard to forget a face like Bradley's-he's extremely gorgeous. And I mean like a total eye candy. He's got the whole bad boy thing going with his cut-edge looks and wilful smile. And let's not talk about his lovely body and tattoos that are currently peeking out from the sleeves of his black hoodie.
Which is why I'm finding it hard to believe that he's taking his time of day to stop me for a conversation. Or that he even remembers me at all.
We only had one drink last night and maybe a little drunken conversation-more like a pathetic attempt at flirting on my side.
"Bradley, guy from the club last night?" I say on a grimace as I remember just how desperate I must have come across. I think it's safe to say that alcohol brings out the me that I really want but a hundred times worse.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
I can't help my mind from going to Charlie. It's weird that he said the exact same thing to me just a few days ago.
"Oh no no," I reply hurriedly, shooting my hands out. Realising how awkward I look, I put my hands down and try to appear and sound as normal and possible "No, it's not a bad thing at all."
He nods his head, a smile gracing his face after giving me a thorough once-over. His gaze suddenly makes me aware of the fact that my legs are on display in my romper shorts and it made me uncomfortable. I clear my throat awkwardly, forcing him to look away from my thighs.
"What are you doing here?" He questions "visiting someone?"
I look up at the complex, remembering that my attempt to meet Charlie turned out futile. I shake my head "No. Just passing by." I push my luck "you?"
"I live here." He replies and I nod. Of course. That explains the body-he's an athlete. "Too bad. Thought you finally took me up on my offer." He adds half jokingly, half serious and I feel my face heat up. He's got a very nice voice. I can listen to it all day "It's not too late though, I can take you up to my room and give you plenty of reasons to stay."
Bradley takes a step towards me, green eyes not once leaving my face as his does so. I can feel the palms of my hands sweat as my anxiety starts to settle in. The conversation went from gentlemanly to total douchey in a span of seconds and I find myself wanting nothing more than to walk away from him. But I can't help but think about how impolite that'd come across. "That's if you want to."
Nothing about his eyes says if you want to. I throw him a smile, taking a step back.
"Uh, I-" Now isn't the right time to stutter and tumble on my words but I can't help it. My heart is pounding so loudly that it makes it hard to speak. I know damn well that my face is red from embarrassment and anxiety all in one "I don't think that's a great idea. I've got a lot of work to catch up on and besides you probably -"
"It's a joke Lorraine." He chuckles slightly, taking a step back from me. Of course it is-except it didn't sound like one. I heard a lot about him from a drunk Samantha on our Uber ride home. According to her, he's a thoughtless prick who manipulates and uses girls. Stay away from him Lorraine, he's bad news. "See you around?"
"Yeah..." I mutter in response but he's already jogging up the stairs that lead to his complex to hear me.
All the air rushes back into my lungs and I find myself taking two huge steps away from where Bradley was just standing. Although, the whole encounter didn't sit well with me, I can't help but feel pride swell in my chest. In my world, It was a half decent conversation.
I decide to walk home for two reasons-I'm still feeling pretty athletic about my walk here and secondly, I need time to review that one conversation I just had in my head and how many directions it could have gone if I wasn't you know..me. Maybe I would have said something flirty back. Maybe I would have said something rude?
Just maybe that one conversation could have bloomed into something more despite my friend's protest ringing in my ears.
It's starting to get dark but I sight our complex from afar and it makes me feel better that I'm close to my bed-until my phone vibrates against my butt. I pull it out of my back pocket wondering which of my three friends have decided to check up on me because no one else does.
I don't have any other friends apart from a few school work acquaintances and my parents are too preoccupied by their trip to Africa to even think about me right now. Not that I mind being left alone for one minute by my overprotective mother and eccentric father but I miss them regardless and hope they call me soon.
I would have called them if they at least offered to take me along. This is a trip to one of the best continents in the world so of course, I'm up for it. But no, as soon as their only child went off to college, they decided family trips didn't include her. Which sucks because I really wanted to explore Nigeria with them. After everything Shadé has said about the country, I fall in love with the culture more and more.
Boo-thang
Where r u?
Starting to get worried here.
Me
Almost home. See you in a bit
Boo-thang
u better not be seeing me w/o my pizza
Oh shit. I sigh and turn around as I remember my promise. I can only be glad that we are not that far away from the only Papa John's on campus. It's only 5 minutes away. 7 if I'm being lazy.
Me
You bet
Boo-thang
Shade and Elle stole rum from an event at campus.
We're making homemade piña coladas
You'd think after the night we had my friends will be steering clear of alcohol but no, these YOLO girls are already cooking up another way to get utterly wasted.
Me
ð
I'll be having a mocktail thank you very much.
and don't you dare think of spiking my drink, I've got elementary stat bright and early tomorrow morning.
Lord knows I need all my brain cells for that lecture.
Boo-thang
ur boring
Me
I'm well aware of that fact, yes.
Boo-thang
ok. I won't add anything to your drink.
you're very mean you know that?
I chuckle at that, shaking my head as my fingers whip up a reply.
Me
you're the one who called me boring.
I place my phone in my pocket when I see the Papa John sign eyeing me from afar. There's only one car parked in front of Papa johns and two girls exit, four boxes of pizza in each of their hand and giggles escaping their mouth as they walk away.
After ordering the pizza, I stand by the counter and scroll through an online shopping app to waste time.
"Are you stalking me?" I look away from my phone to find Charlie standing next to me in his beautiful glory watching me intently. My belly flutters slightly at the sight of him as I stick my phone in my back pocket. I was too lost in the world of fashion to notice that the chestnut brown-haired boy had walked into the pizza shop. "Because that'd be fucking weird."
One would think that I'd be glad to see him after all the stress I just went through to find him but everything I'm feeling at this moment is quite the opposite. Charlie makes me feel unsettled in a way that I don't understand. Not only did he criticise me but he has also made up his mind about me not being good enough. I'm also angry that he ditched our interview and wasted my precious time.
I could have slept in.
"I got here before you." I shoot back as I take a step back so that he can place his order. Charlie makes a gesture of rolling his eyes but steps closer to the counter. "So technically you're the stalker."
Make it make sense please Charlie.
"And why would I want to stalk you?"
"I don't know. Why would you?" I can feel the slow pounding of my heart in my chest as we stare at each other, a nasty scowl on his face. Then his lips curl into a small smile that slightly knocks the air out of my lungs and I momentarily forget that I'm angry at him. I look away from him, my eyes rolling as I shake my head and walk to the single table in the restaurant to take a seat while waiting for my order.
I can't help but notice how Charlie speaks rudely to the worker as he orders his food. The poor girl looks worse than I do with flustered cheeks and fearful eyes. He's either in a foul mood or an asshole to everyone. I also take a mental note that he's very picky with his order-his large buffalo chicken pizza must have no onions, extra chicken instead of bacon and the medium spice buffalo sauce. Of course he added cheese sticks and papa's chicken poppers.
"How's that article of yours going?" Charlie asks in a mocking tone as he steps in front of me. I look away from my phone. He has that mischievous smile on his face that I really hate. He's wearing basic grey sweats and a black T-shirt but he still managed to look amazing. I swear i wish I could pull something as basic as that off without looking like a looser.
"Good actually, unlike your attitude." I fake a sweet smile and bat my lashes at him which makes him chuckle like there's something funny. "What's so funny?" I ask, irritated.
"I didn't think you'd be this sassy."
"I didn't think you'd be this unbearable." I shoot back. I can feel the anger I'm trying to keep in check bubbling in the pit of my stomach and I hate it. I'm not usually an angry person but Charlie just knows how to push my buttons "And thank you so much for showing up to the interview. That was so not a d*ck move."
"Oh that. I-yeah, something came up." I shake my head at the terrible excuse "I was going to call you but then I realised I didn't have your number. So sorry about-"
"Oh please, cut the bullsh*t. I think we both know you were not going to show up." I'm over this conversation so it's a great comfort to hear the female worker call out my order. She places a large box on the counter. "So you can shove your half-assed apology up your ass." I move past Charlie to grab the box off the counter with a polite smile while muttering a thank you.
"You're right I wasn't." He admits unashamedly and I scoff as I proceed to leave Papa Johns "But you can't take a no Lily and that's f*cking pathetic."
My throat clogs at that and I find it difficult to swallow. I've been called worse but this certainly stung differently coming from someone who doesn't know me. Someone who might have never for once in his life suffered from anxiety or the fear of not being good enough. I stand there, staring at Charlie, unable to make out a fitting comeback for this asshole in front of me.
This isn't high school Lorraine. You're a big girl. You're a big girl. You're a big girl. You're a big girl. You're a big girl. You're a big girl.
You're a big girl.
"You know what's more pathetic?" I whip around to face him, unable to control my anger any longer "You making other people feel shit about themselves because you're feeling shitty about yourself." I'm glad that I managed to spit out the words my mother chanted to me repeatedly in high school. My hands are holding onto the box of pizza as a pathetic form of support. My throat feels heavy and there's a burn in my chest as Charlie's brown orbs bore into me "being an asshole doesn't make you cool. It makes you an asshole. And if you can't see that then you're even more pathetic than I am."
I didn't expect Charlie to grabs my arm before I can leave, pulling me to his chest. A soft gasp escapes me as my fingers release the pizza box, letting it topple onto the ground. Brown eyes are staring at me with so much intensity-searching my face as my lips part slightly due to shock. I take a deep breath as he he leans close enough to whisper in my ear, his minty breath fanning my earlobe. "You should get pissed off more. It's hot."
I swallow, unable to fathom what in the world is happening. My heart rate has shoot up to the roof in a span of seconds and I'm finding it hard to step back. Charlie shifts his head so that he's staring me dead in the eyes. I can't read what I'm seeing but the weight of his gaze is making it really hard to breathe "you really are something huh, sophomore?"
"I'm not going to have sex with you." I mutter but even I don't sound convincing to myself. My voice doesn't sound like it belongs to me.
"Yeah?" his voice is daring, audacious. I don't like it "why's that?"
"because-" because you're an asshole who has slept with with half of UCLA female population in one year. Because you're rude to everybody and most especially you think I'm a no-name intern. Especially because you call me the wrong name all the time. But why can't I speak? And I hate the satisfied smirk on his face when he realises I'm tongue tied before releasing my arm and stepping back to grab his own box of pizza sitting on the counter.
"You might want to consider ordering another pizza." He tells me as he walks out of the shop, leaving me standing there, a flustered mess "See you around."