18 Just Minding My Business

"JUST MINDING MY BUSINESS"

My head lay on Peter's chest, my eyes half closed as the dumb girl on the tv walked towards the creepy noise. Horror movies were a hundred times worse than my dad's sci-fi movies. But it was what Peter chose to watch as we cuddled in his bed.

I yelped, shutting my eyes as the serial killer popped out, swinging his machete and decapitating the girl.

Peter's chuckled at my reaction, his hand rubbing my arm. "You sure you don't want to watch a different movie?"

"How can you stand to watch this?" I said, peeking one eye open to make sure no one was being murdered on screen. "I thought you were scared of blood?"

"I'm not scared of it. It makes me woozy," he clarified, as if it made a difference. "And that's not real blood. It's corn syrup."

"Okay, but how do you not flinchwatching someones head fly ten feet away from their body?" He shut the tv off and I sat up to look at him. "We can finish the movie."

"You were two seconds from crawling inside my shirt to hide," he said, eyes full of amusement.

"Maybe..." I stopped myself from sliding my hand under his shirt and making a suggestive joke.

She's been with a lot of guys.

No matter how many times I told myself that the list was a fake made by Daniel to annoy me, I couldn't shake it from my head. Fake or not, those statements were personal.

"What was that?" He asked, brows furrowed.

My shoulders lifted as I traced the lines on his plaid comforter. "Nothing. It's...nothing. Turn the movie back on. I'll try to brave these violent death scenes."

I went to grab the remote, but he beat me to it. "Does this have something to do with why you were being weird last night?"

I knew he knew. Still, I hoped he wouldn't ask. My first instinct was to lie. Daniel and his list weren't worth the breath I'd waste talking about it. But it didn't feel right keeping things from him.

"Daniel messaged me while we were at the pizza place," I admitted.

His face softened as realization, and maybe a little hurt, washed over him. "That's why you wanted to go home early?"

"It wasn't like that. He told me he had my song book."

"Did he?"

"No, he lied to get me to meet him."

His blue eyes flashed with anger as he sat up, jaw tight. "Why? Did he try something?"

"It's so hot when you do that."

He wasn't interested in my jokes. "Faye, why'd he want to meet with you?"

I leaned over him, grabbing my bag from floor. "It's nothing, really," I told him as I rummaged around looking for the note. "He wants us to break up so I'll write a negative song about you and people will stop harassing him with my lyrics."

Finding the note, I handed it to Peter, who tore it open. His eyes scanned the page, brows pinched.

"I told you it was nothing, just a fake--"

"Where did he find this?"

My chest tightened, mouth going dry as his words replayed in my head. "Where did he find it? You mean you wrote it?"

"Yeah."

I felt sick to my stomach. "So that's what you think of me?"

He finally looked up from the list that he created. "No. No! Of course I don't."

He reached from me and I moved away, climbing out of his bed. "You just said you wrote it."

"I know. But not for the reason you think."

I grabbed my bag and shoes from his bedroom floor. "Why do I keep falling for this?"

"Faye, you know how I feel about you." He took hold of my hand, holding it to his chest. His heart beat just as fast as that day in the museum.

I snatched my hand away. "Heart rates spike when you lie, too."

His face crumbled as I moved around him to get to the door. "Can you slow down and let me explain?"

I rounded on him arms crossed. A small part of me held on to the hope that this was all a misunderstanding. Or better yet, a dream. "What possible explanation do you have for those things you wrote about me? Why would you write that I've been with a lot of guys?"

"It's what I heard." His jaw went slack when he registered his own words. "That's...that's not what I meant. I--"

"Screw you, Peter."

He cursed, his hands in his hair. "I'm not explaining myself right. I just didn't want to like you. So I made the list--"

I couldn't stand to hear anymore of his excuses. He wrote the list and that was all I needed to know. Pulling open his bedroom door, I stormed out. Passing his brothers in the livingroom as they pretended to watch the news.

"Faye, can we just talk. Please?"

I turned to him, hot angry tears pooling in my eyes. It was hard to tell who I more angry with. Peter or myself. "Stay the hell away from me!"

Before I slammed the door behind me, I heard Aaron as he said, "Dude, what did you do to her?"

***

Crying over boys in Cherry's bed was becoming a hobbie of mine that I partook in way to often. Her room was comforting with its purple walls, and fluffy rugs. It was like walking into a pastel fever dream.

"I'm so confused," she said as my head lay in her lap. "Why would he write something like that?"

I sniffled, eyes trained on the tv but I wasn't paying attention to it. The characters were a blur through my tears. "He said he heard that I slept around. Then he said that he didn't want to be with me. I don't know. None of it made sense."

The only thing I understood was that I hadn't changed much since Daniel. I was still the girl who fell for boy's nice acts. The girl who easily believed pretty words I knew were fake, but was desperate to hear them.

"I'm so sorry, Faye," she said, stroking my hair. "I can key his car for you next time I see it at one of those charging stations."

I let out a watery laugh. "Call me so I can join you. I'll write ten reasons not to like Peter Conway."

"His hair could have it's own zip code," Cherry said.

"He uses laundry detergent as cologne," I added. "And all his jeans have holes in them. No one wants to see his pale, boney knees."

Cherry giggled as we added more and more reasons to our list. We were way over ten, but picking out all of Peter's flaws was therapeutic.

"Was that your stomach?" Cherry asked after a while. We were running out reasons to hate Peter and my body apparently ran out fuel as my stomach growled again.

"I always forget to carbo load before a break-up." The tears pooled in my eyes again. "How old do you have to be to join a convent?"

Cherry lifted my head off her lap, placing it on the bed once she was out from under me. I had zero energy to move myself. "You would lose your mind. I don't think they allow music."

The memory of singing to him in the museum popped into my mind. A fresh wave of tears started. I buried my face in the sheets as the sobs began again.

Cherry rubbed my back. "I know I say this about all your exes, but I strongly dislike Peter Conway. He lied to all of us." She gave my back one last rub before heading out of the room in search of food.

When she left the room, I sat up to find tissues. Cherry was absolutely right. Peter lied to everyone. He had everyone fooled like he was this good guy. He was the worst kind of guy. We'd only offically been together for a week, but this felt a hundred times worse than my break up with Daniel.

Maybe because I truly believed, after everything we'd been through together, he was different.

I flopped back on the bed, a flash of purple catching my eye. Cherry had a plushie hammock in the corner of her room, over flowing with stuffed animals she's collected over the years.

The giant purple bear Tristan won for her at the carnival took up the most space, along with the pink snake he also won.

Even with all my boy drama, I was happy that my best friend's love life was going well. She deserved all the good things. She says please and thank you. And she knows when to stop joking.

As I stared at the hammock full of colorful stuffies, wishing I could crawl in there with them and never come out, something else caught my attention.

I pushed up off the bed, sniffling at I walked over to the toys, sure I was only seeing things but I needed to be sure. Pulling out the giant purple bear and pink snake first, I gently set them aside. The other toys weren't so lucky as I haphazardly tossed them to the carpet, desperate to reach the thing I saw.

After dumping half the plushies on the floor, I was able to reach it. My songbook. I ran my fingers over the mint green cover decorated with stickers and song lyrics. Flipping through the pages, I made absolute sure it was my notebook, with my lyrics.

I was so happy to have it back in my hands, that it took me a second to put things together.

Cherry had my notebook the entire time...

That didn't make sense because she helped look for it. She'd look me dead in the eye and ask me if I found it yet. It didn't make sense because why would she take it? What was she doing with it this whole time?

The door opened and my best friend walked in, arms full of chips and ice cream. "I found the last two ice cream sandwiches in the--" She stopped when she stepped on one of her plushies.

She took in the state of her room, then looked up at me, finally noticing the notebook in my hand.

Her face fell as she tossed the junk food on her bed. "Faye, I know this looks bad, but--"

I didn't stick around to hear whatever excuse she had. No wonder she was pushing me to go out with Peter, they both spent the summer lying to me. They were both probably laughing together behind my back.

For the second time that day, I stormed out of the room of someone I thought cared about me.

***

"Hey, kiddo," my dad greeted from the kitchen table. One look at me and he was on his feet and checking me for injuries.

My heart was the only thing beat up that day.

"What happened? Why were you crying?"

Somewhere between Cherry's house and mine, my tears stopped. I was cried out for the day. But my face was stiff with dry tears and I was sure my eyes were red a puffy.

"Haven't you heard of the summer event 'Lie to Faye'?" I said, humorless. "You tell me lies all summer and get to laugh at me when I believe them."

"Who lied to you?"

I whipped around, finding the very last person I wanted to see. My mom, on her way down the stairs.

"Of course you're here," I said, rubbing my temples as a headache began.

She stepped closer to me and I stepped back, wrapping my arms around myself. "Faye, what happened? What's this all about?"

"Why? So you can throw it back in my face? Say 'I told you so'?" I spat, edging around her to get to the stairs. "I'm not in the mood."

Once in my room, I shut the door and climbed into bed. No intentions of leaving it anytime soon.

***

I didn't know what time it was when my mom came into my room, shaking me awake. Why was she still even there. Shouldn't she be at my grandma's?

Shrugging her off, I burrowed deeper into my sheets. "Go away."

"You have to eat something." When I didn't move, she added, "Or drink some water at least. You still have to take care of yourself."

That got me up. My eyes narrowed at her in the little light that filtered in from the hallway. "So, what? I can't even be depressed right?"

"Faye, that's not what I meant. I'm worried about you."

"Since when?" I spat. "Every time you open your mouth it's to tell me I'm wrong or to tell me do something. And the rare times when you do ask me what's wrong, you flip it into something you can use against me later. You never worried about me. You were only worried about keeping me small."

My mom sat there another moment. Then, without another word, she set a granola bar and and a bottle of water on my side table and left, shutting the door behind her.

Darkness fell over my room and a new wave tears fell from my eyes.

***

I would like to apologize for any emotional turmoil you experienced during this chapter.

Also thank you so very much for reading <3

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