(Author's Note: For reals, this man needs to leave her alone, lol. But if you would like to listen to Chapter 19 on audio, please click the video. Enjoy!)

 I arrive late to work and my feet are killing me from walking halfway down the road and I look like a mess. I go straight to the bathroom to fix myself up, but as I'm heading there, I'm stopped by Camille.

  "Girl, what happened to you?" She concerningly asks.

  You know I got into a fight with two people today. First, with a girl named Meg, and then I got into it with Chris. He was being an asshole to me because he didn't want his friends to know we are friends. But instead of saying all of that, I say, "Nothing."

 "Nothing? Have you looked at yourself? Your hair is sticking up at the sides and you look exhausted like you have been walking for hours. So, don't lie to me." 

   I can't get away with anything when I'm with Camille. She knows everything, there's nothing I can hide from her.

 "I got a flat tire," I shrug. Okay, I'm not completely being honest with her, but I'm not going to tell her the whole story, she would just freak out and want to go kill Chris.

 "Why did you not call me to come to pick you up?" She asks.

 "Because I did not want to bother you."

  "Why are you always concerned if you bother me? It's no bother at all. Next time if something happens like getting a flat tire, call me, please." She shakes her head. "You know I will be there in a hurry... Alright?"

  "Alright, I'll call you next time."

  She smiles. "Good." She gestures towards the bathroom. "Now, let's go get you cleaned up."

  We make our way to the restroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I do look awful like Camille said. I take off my bobby pins out of my hair- my hair falls to my shoulders. Camille takes out her brush from her purse and hands it to me; I thank her. I start to brush my wavy hair and Camille helps me pin it up with a french twist. It looks better now than this morning. Camille tries to offer me makeup, but I decline. I change into my red shirt and I look in the bathroom mirror once again, I look... nice on the outside, but on the inside, I feel like I'm dying. 

"Now you look decent," Camille says with a smile. 

 "Thanks to you."

  We head out of the bathroom and she stops me near the corridor. I look at her, seeing her usual nosy expression of concern.  "So, are you going to tell me what else is troubling you?" 

  I'm an idiot if I thought I could get away with keeping her in the dark. 

 "What?" I say because I don't want to talk about Chris. If I know her, she will want to go hunt him down and beat him. 

 She makes a dramatic display of rolling her eyes. "You're my friend you can't hide anything from me. Now spill."

 "I got invited to a party on Friday," I answer with a sigh. Alright, that's not what is troubling me, it's Chris who's bothering me and all the hurtful things he had said, and more importantly in front of his friends. I can't believe I'm mooding over a man. 

 "What? I thought you said you will never go back to those parties. Not after-"

"I know." I cut her off. I don't want her to say it. "But a girl, her name is Meg. She was tormenting me about how I don't go to parties because I was a goody-two-shoes, and she kept pushing me..." I shrug. "You know how I get when someone makes me mad." 

 She laughs. "Yeah. You're just like me," she sighs. "Okay if you're going to that party, we are going to give you a makeover." 

 What? No.

"Don't look so stunned, you're doing it. To show that Meg, who she's messing with. I wish I could go with you, but I taught you well. You're not going to drink. Are you?" She asks.

"No, of course not," I spit. I promised myself not to drink ever again. I stopped drinking a few months after what happened... I can't think about that or I'll start to cry again.

"I know. I'm just making sure because this time I'm not there to protect you."

"I can protect myself, Camille." 

"Yes, you can. I am guessing the party would be on Friday, so before the party, you're going to my house and I'll give you a makeover. Nothing too over the top, but will show off a little more of your body."

"No, I don't want to do that." I picture myself wearing something that shows off my breasts, the shirt rolled up, revealing my stomach, and wearing too much makeup that will make me look like a clown. No thank you.

"Come on, Sussianna. I won't make it too revealing." She holds up her hand dramatically. "I promise."

  When I finally say, "Alright." She jumps up and down cheering and I roll my eyes.

 "Hey, girls. What's with all the excitement?" Camille's dad says as he emerges from around the corridor.

 I guess he is feeling better and I'm glad he's doing okay.

 "Hey dad," Camille says.

 "Hello, Mr. Smith." 

 "Sussianna, how many times do I have to tell you, call me Robert."

  "Alright, how are you doing Mister... Robert." I look over toward Camille. "Camille said you had the flu."

   "Yes, I had a twenty-four-hour bug, but I'm doing better now." Robert turns his attention to Camille. "How has Camille been running my store?" He asks me. 

   "Oh, she's been great, but I'm glad you hadn't been out too long because I think she would have destroyed your store." I giggle.

   Camille puts her elbow on my shoulder. "I think we both would have dad," she teases.

   Robert laughs. "Alright, if you two are done messing around, get back to work," he says playfully. 

   "Yes, sir,"  Camille and I say at the same time.

   The day drags at Super Movies, we're not busy. Mondays are never busy, but it's nice for the shop to have fewer customers- it's peaceful. I spend hours restocking books on the shelves. The work is not hard, but it gives me too much time to think and thinking is never good for me.

    I feel my phone buzzing every so often. Now, who could be calling me? I had chosen to ignore my phone so I could concentrate on my work, but with it constantly going off every ten minutes, I decided to check it. I grab it out of my jean pocket to notice the screen reads Chris. 

  CHRIS?

  I look back and forth at the screen and the books on the shelf; I think I'm in shock. What the hell? How in the hell did he get my phone number or let alone put his number in my contact list?

  I know I never gave him my phone number and I'm sure I never got his number and saved it. But then realization dawns on me- when we were studying yesterday, he added himself to my phone when I went to go change; I had left it on the end table. I can't believe he was going through my phone! 

   Camille kept telling me to put a password onto my phone, so no one will be able to access it. But do I listen? No.

    There are several missed calls, along with several text messages. Oh, fucking hell. I open up the text messages and scroll down and read them.

   I'm sorry for what I did, I know I'm a jerk, just please answer your phone and talk to me.

   Another reads- For fuck sake answer your phone! 

   Damn, he sure is persistent. Isn't he? It rings in my hand, having me jump and of course, it's him. I let it ring to voice mail. It doesn't take long for another text to arrive.

 Fine if you won't answer your phone I'm coming inside the store.

 "What?" I shout at my phone. 

 He's here? He can't come in here when I'm at work, this is totally unprofessional. What will everyone think of him barging into the store and causing a scene?

   I put the rest of the books on the shelves away, quickly, move out of the aisle and hurry to the front of the store. I frantically pull up my contact list to call him when I bump into a hard chest. "Shit. I'm sorry, sir."