Heeeeeey! How you doin'? (eh, doing a joey here - I'll be there for youuuuuuu)

I'm on a roll with these updates yaaaaaaas.

Please read authors note at the end!

P.S. Check out the song above when you're reading this, I listened to it when I was writing. Happy reading!!

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CHAPTER SEVEN

    Part 1

    I find it so fucking annoying that whenever I cry, even the slightest tear, somehow makes my nose plumbing completely fall apart. Bogeys, endless amounts of watery, gooey bogeys just freely falling from my nostrils. I stare down at the pile of tissues in my lap that are all gross and wet, but that's the least of my worries. I can handle a runny nose, and I can handle crying, but definitely not in front of Jake.

    I shiver in my place on the sofa as I hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen behind me. He's making me tea. I hate tea. But I didn't want to be rude and say no. As I hear him pour the boiled water into a mug, I reach for another tissue out of the packet laying on the coffee table in front of me.

    Pull yourself together, Jesus.

    With that thought, I try to blow my nose as quietly as I can into the soft tissue (but you can't you see, there is no such thing as blowing your nose quietly). His footsteps sound as he makes his way to me and places the mug down before me, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

    Eugh, that's the last thing I want. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me.

    He takes a seat on the seat adjacent to the sofa I'm sat on and I can  feel his eyes watch me as I reach for the tea.

    "Thank you," I try to say, but it comes out a mixture between an otters' squeal and a smokers' cough. My voice box also goes awol when I cry.

    "No need," He replies quietly.

    I take a sip of the brown liquid but instantly regret taking him up on his offer to make it for me. You see when he saw me crying, he freaked out and I'd known this about Jake from years ago - he doesn't know how to handle people when they cry. So, he frantically urged me to sit down and put a pillow in my lap (not sure as to why, I guess he maybe thought it could be a good substitute for a teddy bear?) along with a box of tissues and insisted he made me tea.

    It was cute, mainly because I admired the fact that I've been such a bitch to him and he can put that all aside for now and actually try his best to be kind.

    "I'm sorry that you have to see me like this," I barely whisper as I try not spit the tea out of my mouth.

    I really hate tea.

    He narrows his eyes at me. "Are you seriously apologising?"

    Uh, yeah. Because I ugly cry. "That is what sorry means isn't it?" I reply sarcastically. My voice is kind of muffled because of my now blocked nose. Stupid bogeys.

    There's a tug at his lips. At least he can smile in a situation like this.

    "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks much to my surprise. He's been so inquisitive every time I've bumped into him, why isn't he prying now?

    Maybe it's because you're crying and he's being nice - duh.

    I shake my head in response. I kind of do want to tell him, but my brain right now is screaming no bitch no, not now no. It's not the right time.

    "There is something I want to tell you though," I manage to murmur as I rub at my sore swollen eyes.

    I sense him leaning a little forward in his seat, anticipating what I'm going to say. He waits for my to continue, securing his gaze on me.

    "I...I want to apologise for what happened," I avert my eyes to look at the mug of tea within the clasp of both my palms in my lap. "When I left, I should've...I should've told you, or spoken to you about it."

    I peak at him to see what his expression is like and to my dismay it's rather blank, it was straight, I couldn't really tell what he was feeling or thinking.

    "It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you or anything like that, but...I guess I was scared," I take a deep breath, but that never is a good idea when you've just had a crying fit. It ended being one of those sighs that stutter because of how much you've been crying.

    You sound like baby that hasn't been given their sweets.

    "Scared about what?" He leans forward a bit more, now he seems desperate to find the answers.

    Should I tell him?

    No bitch no. Not the right time damn listen to me, cries my brain.

    Why was I truly scared? I guess because at the time I thought it was my fault, I went to that party that night in another attempt to drown my problems in alcohol and music, I was wearing that skimpy little dress and I was the one flirting with...Jason. Ugh I hate his name.

    I thought it was my fault, it's almost laughable now thinking about it because no matter how drunk I was, no matter what clothes I was wearing, no matter whether I was flirting back, what happened should've never happened. So the logical thing to me back then in the midst of all my crazy emotions was to keep my mouth shut, not tell a soul of what happened and run away. I knew if I opened up to Jake, he'd go straight to Jason and beat him up. He also would've convinced me to stay.

    The image of Jason Bold when he walked onto the boxing ring at the fight a few weeks ago flashes in my mind, making me quiver. I really wish Jake beat the crap out of him then - I guess I'll have to wait for the postponed fight date.

    "Nothing-" I start to say but I'm interrupted the loud doorbell.

    I'm not just interrupted, I physically jump out of my seat and hover on the edge of the sofa. Some tea splashes out of the cup and lands on my shirt.    

    "Do you want to have a louder doorbell?" I place the mug on the table before using a clean tissue to dab at my shirt.

    He chuckles as he watches me, but his mind seems to be distracted by the door. "Let me check who it is, I'll get you another shirt." He replies as he makes his way to the door.

    I don't know why but my heart beat seems to pick up a little pace as he says that. Remembering back to two years when Jake and I were close, I used to wear his clothes all the time, especially the thick warm hoodies in winter. It wasn't so much about the clothing itself, it was having a part of him with me.

    And God the smell of his clothes was amazing.

    "Flo," He calls distracting me from my thoughts, his tone a little stern. "It's Becca."

    Part 2

    My neck cracks because of the speed at which I turn my head to face him and the door, however I try not to wince from the agitating pain. "Don't open it." The words escape my tongue before I'm able to stop them.

    The burning sensation returns to the back of my throat. It's okay, calm down. I can't let her see me like this. Plus, she's probably going to throw a bitch fit when she seems me together with Jake, alone.

    "She knows I'm at home I can't just not open the door."

    It hurts when he says that. The jealousy is coming back to me. I hate this.

    I wonder if he's dating her just to get back at me? Because if that's the case it's working.

    "Then let me hide somewhere." Hurriedly, I push myself off the couch clutching all my tissues in both hands and wait for him to give me instructions to a hiding spot.

    He eyes me steadily, "it's not that big of a deal, she won't mind you being here."

    Ha. As if.

    "Jake, look at me," I say, signalling to the mess that is probably my face.

    Oh God. I wore mascara today. Oh God no I've just realised I most likely look like a panda. Pathetically I try to hide my face with a few strands of my hair, like that would do anything.

    "Upstairs, last door on the end." He says, his eyes are gentle, almost forgiving.

    My lips just manage a small appreciative smile before I head up the stairs to the last door on the end. It's recognisable from the memory of Jake's party a few weeks ago. Although what I remember is fuzzy - you've got vodka to thank for that - I recall my interaction with Jake very well, evidently much different to now, at least there's an improvement. I push on the handle to reveal the familiar room; it's very minimalistic, very clean. A large low black bed with white sheets, built in white wardrobes covered in mirrors, a grey desk at the far corner with a mesmerising view of the city out the window which takes up most of the further wall. I make sure to close the door quietly behind me when I hear Becca's distant voice from downstairs.

    "Hey baby," she speaks. It makes me cringe, it makes me uncomfortable.

    She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be calling him that.

    Closing my eyes in frustration, I can feel the burning sensation getting harsher. Inhaling and exhaling, I make my way over to the mirrored wardrobe to see the damage the mascara has done to my face.

    Yep. I'm a panda. How fucking embarrassing.

    I try to wipe of the black residue from around my eyes but it only smudges more, making me let out an irritated sigh.

    "It's okay. It's okay." I chant to myself and glance to my right where the door to the bathroom is.

    Why I remember the bathroom is another painful memory. If I recall back to Jake's party, I think her name was Lucy, he told her to go into the bathroom.

    I shut my eyes, firmly holding both pairs of eyelids together in vexation.

    You've been gone for two years, of course he's moved on and found himself other girls. Of course. Of course. Of course. It's your own fault, don't be jealous now.

    I start to the bathroom, the light automatically switching on as soon  I open the door and make my way to the sink. Splashing cool water against my face, I rub away the black streaks with my fingers, allowing the water to ease me a little. My reflection is horrible, every time I look into the mirror it's degrading me, telling me how stupid I am, how I should pull myself together.

    Coming back was meant to fix things, to help me get better. All it's done has broken me down again.

    I turn off the tap, leaning against the rims of the sink as I watch myself. My eyes puffy, my nose red, my hair a mess.

    You can get through this. I promise.

    Shaking my head, I leave the bathroom and return to his bedroom. For him to be able to afford a place like this on his own is amazing. Yet, the surprising thing is, is why he wouldn't have his dad help him out. I remember Aiden talking about it, but it didn't make sense. Jake was so close to his family, he was a mommy and daddy's boy.

    My hand glides on the shiny surface of his desk as I step away from the bathroom - something catches my eye making me halt in my steps. I see a framed picture of Jake in a boxing ring, his gloved hands leaning against the rails as he looks up at whatever is above him. It's a black and white photograph and it's stunning. Reaching to take it from the corner of the desk, I inspect the image further, taking in his defined biceps and and tight chest and abdominal muscles, the protruding veins popping from his forearms and neck, the sweat droplets falling from his forehead; everything captured in a beautiful picture of him.

    No matter how perfect the picture looks, it makes me confused as well. I never knew he was into boxing, I mean I knew he went to the gym a lot before, but I never knew it was boxing. I didn't think that back then he would hide something like that from me, and I don't believe he's made it this big in just a few years.

    "Flo," A voice sounds from the entrance of the bedroom, startling me once again.

    Like the idiot I am, I jump so hard I end up dropping the framed photo onto the desk below and it gives out a loud thump as it lands.

    "Shit!" I cuss under my breath, praying I haven't broken the glass shielding the photograph. Thankfully, it didn't crack. "Shit, sorry, you scared me," I turn to face Jake, gritting my teeth together in an I'm-sorry-I'm-clumsy-and-I-almost-broke-that type of way.

    I quickly turn around to replace the small photo to its original position.

    He laughs a small laugh, "first the doorbell, now me. Why are you so jittery? And it's fine, don't worry about it."

    Why is he being so nice? Is Becca gone?

    "Is Becca gone?" I ask.

    "Yeah, she just left,"

    "What did she want?" I blurt out, not really thinking about it. Why the fuck did you just say that? It's none of your business, stop acting jealous. For God's sake he's going to get creeped out. "I mean..." I try to get myself out of it, but there's no way out. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

    Jake's slight smile is still lingering on his lips as he watches me make a fool out of myself. "She came to drop me off some medicine."

    Medicine? Is he sick?

    I guess the look of surprise and confusion on my face was so evident that he had to reassure me, "it's nothing serious, just for migraines. I get them real bad."

    I nod in understanding, although luckily they haven't been so bad lately. It's the fainting that is the issue for me more than anything. "Sucks right?"

    He shrugs, "at least it's a migraine and nothing worse." His smile disappears and his eyes fall to the floor.

    "True," I study him, he doesn't usually say stuff like that. The Jake I used to know used to complain about a paper cut or stepping on some legos.

    Yeah well it's been two years, he's probably matured.

    "How are your parents?" I question, genuinely curious. His parents were like a second mum and dad to me. However, by the way he furrows his eyebrows and clenches his jaw, I wish I never asked. Something is obviously off in that department, which to say the least is surprising - never would I have thought that Jake's relationship with his parents would weaken. They were amazing people, like him.

    "Uh..." He tries to find the words, and I give him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

    "Don't worry about it, you don't have to say anything." I quickly say, making him meet my stare. "And it's getting late, I really should be going now. Thank you for everything, really." I speak quickly to get rid of the awkward air between us.

    Step by step, I can't come back into his life all at once like this. We both need time, that's if he wants me back in his life.

    "Flo," he says as I walk towards the door that he's stood beside.

    Those gorgeous eyes. "Yeah?"

    "I..." There's a short pause. "Drive home safe."

    It takes everything in me not to ask him what he really wanted to say because it was easy, I could tell he wanted to tell me something else, but her stopped him self in the last second.

    Forcing a fake smile on my face, I respond with a "will do."

    Part 3

    I was driving back home but my vision got too blurry from the constant tears, so instead I pulled up on the side of the road. Here I am, on a street I don't know, in a fucked up car, driving away from someone that means the world to me, crying my eyes out. I hit the steering wheel in angst, angry at what has become of my life, feeling so isolated.

It's okay. It's going to be okay.

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yooooooo. so I would like to ask you guys a question: do you like the direction that the story is going in? Because I have so many ideas but I'm scared I'm gonna mess up and I really don't want to mess up with this one. MPAI was the first book I ever wrote (it's not finished yet but ya know what I mean), and I started writing that when I was 15. I'm now 19 so my writing style has obviously changed and I'm trying to evolve the story with the way I've evolved as well. I hope you guys do like it!

For those patiently waiting for MPAI thank you so much for your patience, I'm trying to work out how I'm going to do the ending, but I've figured that theres more than one chapter left (most likely anyway). An update will be coming very soon though! Thanks again for all your support.

Here's a fan poster by @lost48 thank you so much! (BTW if you guys have anything you want to send to me, send it to: [email protected])

Until next time, stay beautiful,

Indie xoxo