Reject (COMPLETED!)

[suicideXmakeover]

Well, I decided to start a new story. I couldn't stand not having one going (besides American Idiot, but I've decided I'm going to finish writing the whole thing before I post anymore of it), and since I finished "She's All Alone Again", which I never really cared for in the first place, I figured I'd make a new one. So here it is. I named it after the song I happened to be listening to, since I couldn't think of anything better. And here it is.

Part 1

I sat on my couch, knees pressed against my chest as the tears streamed down my face. I had been sitting in the same position, sobbing my heart out, for the past two hours. Why did this hurt so bad? What made it different than every other break up I’d ever experienced? Why did I miss him more than every guy who has ever broken my heart before?
In my mind, I kept reliving the day from start to finish, as if I were in a movie, having some kind of flashback.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Jeff said into the phone before breaking into another coughing fit.
“It’s okay,” I laughed. “If you’re sick, don’t even worry about it.” I stood in the kitchen, fixing myself a sandwich and trying to sound like I didn’t mind that Jeff was canceling our plans for lunch since he was sick.
“You’re so good to me,” he chuckled, coughing again.
“I don’t mind,” I sighed.
“Well, I’m going to go take a nap,” he said.
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” he coughed, then hung up.
“Poor baby,” I whispered to myself. I had just taken a bite of my sandwich when the thought occurred to me that I should go down to Panera’s and buy him some soup. I finished my sandwich quickly, then rushed over to Panera’s, which was just around the corner from my apartment, and got him some chicken noodle soup to go.
I finally arrived at his apartment complex and carried the Styrofoam container of scalding hot soup up the door. In case he was sleeping, I decided to let myself in. I pulled my key out of my purse and opened the door. I walked silently through the doorway, setting my purse on a small table by the entrance. I instantly noticed that the framed picture of the two of us he kept on the table was missing. I arched an eyebrow and opened the drawer, only to find the picture face down.
“What the hell?” I whispered as I set it in it’s rightful place. I carried the soup to the kitchen and was about to place it on the counter when I heard Jeff laughing.
I held the Styrofoam soup holder in my hands as I wandered down the hallway to Jeff’s bedroom. The door was cracked slightly, so I couldn’t see inside the room. But I could hear everything. There was a woman moaning, and a guy (which I assumed to be Jeff) panting. I silently prayed that he was only watching porn or something as I opened the door the rest of the way.
But my fears were confirmed. Sure enough, there was Jeff, making love to another woman. At the sight of this, the soup container slipped from my fingers, spilling on the floor and covering my sandals. The soup burned my feet, but I was in too much shock to notice much.
Neither of them seemed to notice me, and I would’ve said something, but I couldn’t make a sound. I looked at the woman, who was easily twice my age. She was pale and redheaded. I glared at her for a second, hoping maybe she’d look up, but of course she didn’t.
Finally, I managed to clear my throat. Jeff looked up, his pupils dilated, and he whispered my name. “Lydia.”
At this point the woman let out a loud scream and nearly tumbled off the bed. She looked up at Jeff, then followed his gaze to me. At the sight of someone else, she leapt off the bed and grabbed her robe off the floor. “What the fuck?” she shouted as she wrapped herself in the robe. “Who are you?”
“Lydia,” Jeff repeated.
I turned around and started down the hallway, leaving large, soupy footprints behind. I heard him calling my name but ignored him, not even turning around until I heard a large thump. I turned just enough to see that as he had been following me, he had been attempting to put on his boxers and balance at the same time, which had caused him to fall.
“Seriously, who the hell are you?” asked the woman, following closely behind Jeff.
“His girlfriend,” I said.
“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?” she screamed, glaring at Jeff.
“Not anymore,” I growled, picking up the picture of us off the table and chucking it at him, just missing his skull. “You were sick? Sick my ass!” I grabbed my purse and left, slamming the door behind me.
“Lydia!” he called from the doorway as I headed to my car.
“Don’t bother coming by for your stuff,” I said, unlocking the doors and climbing in. “I’ll have torched it by the time you get there.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and headed into my bedroom, where I collapsed on my bed and sobbed some more. What had this guy done to me?

[Kill]

OH! Good! I think I'm gonna start another fanfic that I actually like enough to finish. XD

[suicideXmakeover]

Another one? Don't you like New Kids and that other one (the name of which I've forgotten)? Well, I can't force you to write stories, and I won't because I hate when people beg me to write when I don't feel for it.

HEY! PROSTHETIC HEAD IS PLAYING! YAY!

[Kill]

YAY! lol, Yeah. Well I like the New Kids, but it has no real plot. I need a plot.

[suicideXmakeover]

Yeah, a plot would help.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 2
“You need to get out of the house, Lyd,” Claire sighed. She sat at the end of my couch, watching me move about my kitchen with a fake smile plastered on my face.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Do you want milk in your coffee?”
“No thanks,” she said. “But really, how about you and I go out tonight, like we used to? We can just sit at the bar and check out some guys, if you want. Or we could dance until we can’t dance anymore.”
“Really, I’m fine,” I insisted. “Do you want sugar?”
“I drink my coffee black,” she grunted, holding out her hand as I carried the mug into the living room. I handed it to her and she took a long sip before continuing. “I hate to tell you this, but Jeff was nothing special. I could understand you going through all this over some fantastic guy, but not Jeff.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, tears beginning to burn in my eyes. “Jeff was incredible.”
“No,” she sighed. “It should’ve been your first big hint to not even get involved when during your first date he told you he had a girlfriend.”
“But he was planning on breaking up with her. He hadn’t yet because she was, you know, a little unstable,” I said, kind of surprising myself for sticking up for him.
“Come on, Lydia. Do you really believe that?” she asked. “He was flat out cheating on her, just like he cheated on you. He’s not a good person, no matter how much you may want to believe that.”
“God, Claire,” I said, breaking into tears. “We were talking about getting married. I kind of assumed that meant we would be together forever.”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Just come on. Tonight we should go to the club on fifth. To get your mind off things, you know?”
“I…”
“Please? For me?” she begged.
“Fine,” I sighed.
“Thank you,” she said, in a voice that made her sound like she was six instead of 22. She threw her arms around me and hugged me. “Trust me. We’ll get your mind of old what’s-his-face.”
“Jeff,” I said.
“You’re hopeless,” she laughed, grabbing her cup of coffee and taking another sip. “You know that?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel a little hopeless,” I murmured, staring at the empty space on the end table next to me where a picture of Jeff and me used to sit.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 3
“What about him?” Claire asked, pointing at a guy down the bar from us.
“Ew, no,” I said, staring at the guy in his late 30’s with greasy black hair that she was pointing at.
“Jeez, you’re picky tonight,” she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink. Almost as if it was magic, some fairly attractive guy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and started chatting up a storm with Claire. She was always pretty lucky with guys. The ones she dated were nice, respectable, and cute, with good jobs and a pretty good background. No guy had ever cheated on her, and their relationship often ended with her getting bored and dumping them, leaving them broken hearted to fend for themselves.
Claire was lucky like that. She was also very pretty, which probably contributed to her luck with men. She had long, dirty blonde hair that always cooperated and did whatever she wanted it to. She had big, green eyes and a gorgeous smile, which I envied, since I wore braces for three years when I was a kid and still didn’t have a smile like that.
As she sat there, talking to this cute guy, I scooted a couple of stools over and ordered myself another drink. I wasn’t even exactly sure what is was I was drinking, but the bartender had assured me that it was his “specialty”. Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t very strong, but that was okay. All of the sudden I heard a voice.
“Excuse me, but is this stool taken?”
I looked up at the smiling face that had just asked the question. There was a guy about ten years older than me (still cute, just older), with blondish hair and big blue eyes. He wore a black collared shirt and a pair of black pants with a studded belt and a pair of T.U.K. Creepers (I owned several pairs of those myself). Maybe Claire wasn’t the only one with some sort of luck.
But then I realized that he had only asked to sit down, not run away and get married. “It’s all yours,” I said, gesturing to the stool. He sat down and smiled at me. He then looked at the bartender and ordered the “special”, which was whatever I was drinking.
“So, what’s your name?” he asked.
“Lydia,” I said.
“What?” he shouted over the pumping music of the club.
“LYDIA!” I screamed.
“That’s a pretty name,” he shouted back.
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Tre,” he yelled. “My throat hurts already. Do you want to go outside?”
“Sure,” I said, lifting my glass and slipping off my stool, leading him toward the doors.
“Where are you going?” Claire called, noticing that I was leaving.
“I’m going outside with Tre here,” I said, throwing a thumb over my shoulder to where Tre stood.
“Okay,” she said and nodded. Tre and I stepped outside and stood near the door, where a bunch of people were smoking or talking on cell phones.
“So Tre, what’s your last name?” I asked, pulling my jacket tighter over my shoulders to block the frigid winter air.
“Um, Wright,” he said.
“Did you have to think about that?”
He just laughed. “What about you? What’s your last name?”
“Barns,” I said.
“Lydia Barns. I like it,” he smiled.
“So, Mr. Wright, what do you do for a living?” I reached in my purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I put one to my lips and lit up, then held the pack out to him.
“No thanks,” he said.
I took a long drag before asking again, “What do you do for a living?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“No…” I was unsure of why he would think I was kidding about something like that. I mean, if I had asked if he was a serial killer, then I could understand why I would be kidding. But not a simple question like “what’s your job?”
“I’m in the music industry,” he said.
“Do you produce albums or something?” I asked, trying to be interested in this cute guy in front of me, but all I could think about was Jeff. Stop thinking about him, I told myself, and listened to Tre’s response.
“I’m in a band, actually. I play the drums.”
“For a living?” I repeated.
“Yup,” he smiled.
“What’s your band’s name?” I asked, but was interrupted by a few girls about two years younger than me approaching Tre.
“Oh my God,” one of them said. “Are you Tre Cool?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little.
“You are so cute!” screamed the other one.
“Shut up,” whispered the first. “I just wanted to know if I could get you to autograph a CD for me.”
“Sure,” Tre said. “If you provide the CD and the pen.”
“Hold on a second,” the girl said, before making a mad dash to a car in the parking lot. The other girl just stood there, mouth agape as she stared at Tre. I just stood there, smoking and wondering what the hell was going on.
“I really love your music,” the girl said. “Um, and I was wondering, could you tell Billie I said hi?”
“Will do,” Tre nodded.
The other girl returned, holding a Sharpie and a copy of Dookie, one of my favorite CDs by one of my favorite bands, Green Day. A thought suddenly passed through my head. Was this guy Green Day’s drummer? It had never even occurred to me to pay attention to what the guys looked like. After all, I liked them for their music, not their looks. I hadn’t much cared about the appearance of rock stars since I graduated high school, yet here I was, possibly being hit on by one.
He signed the girl’s CD and handed it back to her. “Can I hug you?” she asked.
“Why not?” Tre sighed. No sooner had he said that the girl jumped into his arms, almost knocking him over. As soon as that girl’s hug was done, the other girl embraced Tre as well, and he made a weird face over the girl’s shoulder at me. I just stood there, puffing on my cigarette and watching all this happen.
The two girls furiously waved goodbye as they headed to the car. As soon as they reached the car, they practically screamed as if in total disbelief. “So let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re in Green Day?”
“Of course not,” he said sarcastically.
“You are!” I said. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that. I feel so stupid!”
“Don’t,” he sighed. “I’m kind of glad that you didn’t know. Otherwise I would’ve felt you were at least acting interested in me because of that.”
“Well, I’m not,” I laughed.
“I’m glad,” he nodded.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 4
“Hey, Lydia,” Claire said as she stepped out of the club. “I’m going home.”
I turned away from Tre and blinked at her for a second before looking at my watch. It was 2:30 in the morning. I had been talking to Tre for about three hours. “Holy crap,” I whispered. “Hold on a second.”
Claire leaned up against a wall, putting a rather impatient look on her face, although I knew she was happy that I was actually talking to a guy instead of stay at home, thinking about Jeff and how he had broken my heart.
“Um, can I have your number?” Tre asked, placing his hand on my arm.
“Sure,” I said. I dug through my purse until I produced a piece of paper and a pen. I quickly scribbled my name and number on it, then handed it to him. “Bye, Tre,” I sighed, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek before waving and following Claire to the car.
“So, you and Tre seemed to be having a nice time. Sorry I had to ruin it,” she laughed.
“It’s probably better that you did. Otherwise we would’ve been talking all night. And he has practice tomorrow, so he should probably be getting some rest,” I said.
“Practice?”
“You mean you don’t know who he is?” I gasped, even though I hadn’t either.
“Should I?”
“He’s Tre Cool,” I giggled. “The drummer of Green Day.”
“No fucking way,” she laughed. “That is so cool.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And the funny part is that I didn’t even know he was in Green Day until some girls ambushed him outside.”
“Then why’d you get all pissy at me about not knowing him?” she asked as she started the car.
“I don’t know,” I laughed. “Just decided to get on your case, I guess.”
She rolled her eyes as we backed out of the parking spot. I looked out the window at the front of the club. Tre was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he was going to call me. Probably not. He was a busy musician with tons of beautiful girls pounding down his door. He’d probably much prefer one of them.
Claire dropped me of in front of my apartment, waving goodbye as I walked to the door. I waved back and headed inside, throwing myself on the couch in complete exhaustion. I wasn’t even thinking about Jeff anymore. Instead, Tre was all that was on my mind.

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 5

TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
I sat in Billie’s living room, staring out the window and watching the rain fall. We had just finished practicing and managed to get to Billie’s house before the storm began. It was raining so hard that Adrienne insisted we stay until the rain at least lightened up some, and by the news report, that didn’t look like it would be any time soon, which was kind of weird, since it was rare it rained like this.
“Call her,” Mike said.
“What?” I asked, turning from the window to him.
“Call that girl you met. Um, Linda?”
“Lydia,” I corrected. “And besides, why would I call her now? It’s pouring outside and there’s no telling when it could let up.”
“What does that have to do with you calling her? I’m not suggesting that you run to her house and carry her to the east coast or anything. Just call her,” he said.
“I can’t. I’m, uh, busy,” I lied.
“Doing what?” Billie laughed, sitting in a large chair on the other side of the living room. “You’re watching the rain. You can watch it while you’re on the phone.”
“Her phone number’s back at my house,” I lied again.
Mike arched an eyebrow at me. “It is?” he questioned.
“Yes,” I said, hoping I sounded more convincing than I felt.
“I think you have it with you,” Billie said, almost fiendishly.
“I think so, too,” said Mike, who suddenly pounced on me and almost pried my wallet out of my pocket.
“Give me my fucking wallet!” I screamed, trying to grab it, but he held it above his head. I hated being short. I jumped trying to get it and Mike just laughed.
He went through the wallet as he held it above me. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling out a piece of paper and reading the phone number written on it out loud along with the name. “Lydia Barns, eh?” he said. “Looks like you have her phone number right here.”
“Give me my wallet,” I said, having given up on jumping and grabbing at it.
“Only if you call her,” Mike said.
“Fine, I’ll call her. Just give me the wallet.”
“Call her first,” Billie said. Mike handed me her phone number and smiled.
“Come on,” Mike whispered. “Call her. You know you want to.”
“Fine,” I groaned, snatching the number and walking over to the telephone. I lifted it to my ears and dialed the number.
The phone rang once, and I tapped my foot. Again the phone rang, and I started thinking about whether or not I would leave a message on her machine. The phone rang for a third time and I decided that I wouldn’t leave a message. That’s when I heard her voice.

LYDIA’S POINT OF VIEW
I had just opened the door when I heard the phone ringing. I slammed the door shut, dropped my purse on the floor, rushed over to the phone, and picked it up. “Hello?” I said, almost out of breath. I tucked the phone between my face and shoulder as I walked over to the doorway to grab my purse and lock the door.
“Hello?” I said again, after a few seconds of silence.
“Um, hi,” a rather familiar voice finally said. “Is this Lydia?”
“Yes,” I said, choosing not to throw in the sarcastic remark of “who else would it be?”. “Who’s this?”
“This is Tre,” said the voice. I jumped a little, kind of surprised he would actually call me. I took off my raincoat and hung it on the coat rack by the entrance.
“Oh, hey!” I said. “What’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to do something with me this weekend.” Almost as soon as he said that, I heard a voice in the background say “Do what?”
“Shut up,” Tre whispered at whoever had made the last comment.
“This weekend?” I asked, trying to ignore the fact that someone was listening in on Tre’s conversation with me.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I’m free Saturday night,” I said.
“Okay.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I’ll take you to this nice little restaurant I know, okay? I can pick you up at about 7.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Alright. Um, I’ll call you tomorrow for directions to your house and stuff.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Crap, I have to go,” he said, and I heard some laughter in the background. I got the paranoid feeling that they were laughing at me, but I only said goodbye, and hung up.
“Well, that was weird,” I mumbled to myself, heading into my bedroom and peeling off the rain-soaked clothes I was wearing and putting on some pajamas. All the while, I thought of what had just happened. And finally it registered.
“Oh my God,” I suddenly gasped. “I’m going on a date with Tre Cool.”

[suicideXmakeover]

Part 6
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
“Tre has a date,” Billie said in a rather taunting voice, almost as if he were chanting, “Tre and Lydia sitting in a tree…”
“Here’s your wallet,” Mike said as he handed it over.
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the wallet into my pocket and looking at Billie who was beaming at me as if I were his child who had just taken their first steps or something. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Billie sighed, still smiling.
“Billie, stop looking at him like that. It’s really scary.”
Adrienne came down the stairs at that moment, humming some song that I couldn’t recognize and flipping through a book. “Hey guys, the rains starting to let up a little,” she said, then looked at Billie. “Honey, why are you staring at Tre like that?”
“He just asked a girl out on a date,” Billie laughed.
“Is this a big deal or something?” she questioned. “I mean, the man’s been married twice.”
“Forget it,” Billie said, the smile shrinking a bit. “You think it’s safe for them to head home?”
I looked out the window. “Yeah, it looks pretty decent,” I said. “I haven’t had anything to drink today, so it should be fine.”
“Bull shit,” Mike laughed.
“Okay, I haven’t had much to drink,” I corrected, then shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Adrienne asked, staring at me over her book.
“Positive,” I nodded as I walked towards the front door, waving goodbye to my friends.

LYDIA’S POINT OF VIEW
I had hardly woken up the next morning that Tre called me for my address. After spending forever trying to explain where my apartment was, he finally decided that he got it and left. My heart raced in my ears as I hung up. I still couldn’t get over the fact that there was a nice, funny, smart, cute (not to mention probably pretty rich) guy interested in me instead of Claire.
Almost as soon as I hung up, the phone rang again, I lifted the phone to my ear. I was on cloud 9, feeling as if nothing could phase me. That’s when I heard his voice. “Lydia?”
“Jeff? What the fuck do you want?”
“I wanted to apologize. I don’t want for us to end on shitty terms like that,” he said.
“You cheated on me. With some 40-year-old woman. I really don’t think there’s anyway we could’ve ended on good terms,” I said.
“I had a reason,” he sighed.
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“Just let me talk to you!” he pleaded. “She’s a record executive.”
All of the sudden it started to come together. Jeff was in a band called Appendix Transplant (not the best of names, but it had been temporary and kind of stuck). He played the bass and had always talked to be about how his big dream was to go somewhere. I supported him, going to every gig the band had and cheering them on. And one time, I had made the mistake of telling him that he should do anything he wanted to support his dream.
“So you screwed her to get a contract?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I don’t love her. That was the first time. I swear.”
“Am I supposed to take you back now?”
“You told me to do whatever I had to.”
“I DIDN’T THINK THAT INCLUDED FUCKING SOMEONE!” I screamed, feeling the tears as they began to form. I leaned against the wall and furiously wiped at my eyes, as if he could see that I was about to cry.
“You don’t have to take me back. And I don’t expect you to,” he whispered.
“I’m glad,” I said. “Because I don’t plan on it.”
“Just, please, don’t hate me,” he begged, his voice cracking as if he was crying, too.
“I…”
“I love you, Lydia. I always will.”
I started crying, sobbing furiously. I slid to the floor, knelt in the fetal position. I coughed furiously for a few seconds, then took a few deep breaths before saying, “I wish you weren’t such a jackass.”
“I do, too,” he said.
“I don’t want to love you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do,” I whispered, not loud enough for him to hear me, but loud enough to get myself to realize it.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I sobbed. “I have to go.”
“Do you forgive me?” he queried.
“We’ll see,” I said, hanging up before I had the chance to say anymore. And again my priorities changed. Suddenly, I wasn’t even thinking about my date with Tre.

[Kill]

ACK! MORE!!! lol, It's so freaking good. You need to write romance stories or something, lol.

[suicideXmakeover]

I should? That's weird....okay, well, I'll write some more in a second. I'm watching this really bad quality home movie of Green Day back in 1991. Tre's wearing a dress the whole time, and he's freaking out about this hampster. It's kind of weird.

[suicideXmakeover]

This part is kind of based on something that happened in a restaurant I was in a couple nights ago.

Part 7
“Hey,” I said softly as I opened the door of my apartment to a smiling Tre. He was dressed in a purple suit and tie, so I assumed I hadn’t over-dressed by wearing my slinky black dress.
“Hi,” he smiled. “You, wow, you look great.”
“Thanks,” I sighed, plastering on the best fake smile that I could. For some reason, all I could think about was the ongoing debate in my head as to whether or not I still loved Jeff.
We sat in silence most of the ride to the restaurant. “Something on your mind?” he finally asked.
“No,” I lied.
We got to the restaurant before I knew it. He was real polite, opening the car door for me and stuff. I thanked him quietly, not even realizing how great he was being. Any girl would kill to have this kind of opportunity, but here I was, taking it for granted because I would rather be with some scumbag who cheated on me.
We sat at the table inside the restaurant. Tre got us a bottle of champagne, and poured some for me. “Thanks,” I whispered again, nodding at him.
“Something’s wrong,” he said.
“Um, not really. I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he sighed, sounding a little unsure, but I was kind of glad he just left it at that. He then started up a conversation about music and stuff. I nodded politely, sipping my champagne and worrying about myself.
“Can I take you order?” the waiter suddenly asked, and I almost jumped out of my chair. I had been in the state of a daydream, not even listening to what Tre was saying anymore.
“Um, I’ll just have the house salad,” I said.
“Are you sure that’s all?” the waiter asked.
“Don’t worry about prices or anything,” Tre assured me.
“I’m just not hungry,” I murmured, not bothering to mention that the entire date was making me uncomfortable, and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Tre asked as the waiter walked away.
“Well,” I said softly. Should I tell him? After all, I hardly knew him. This was our first date. But I wasn’t sure if there would be another one.
“Well?”
“I just got out of a relationship, like, a few days before we met,” I sighed. “I kind of thought I was going to marry him, but he cheated on me.”
“Oh,” Tre said, nodding. “You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
“No, I want to,” I said, anger raising inside of me as I realized what a fool I had been for thinking I might like that jackass more than Tre, who seemed almost perfect. “He’s in a band, and he cheated on me with a record executive. He says it was just to get a contract, but I’m not sure I believe him.”
“Oh,” Tre said again, looking around. My voice grew louder as I talked, and people at nearby tables were beginning to look over. He seemed a little embarrassed, but didn’t interrupt to tell me so.
“I mean, I told him to do what was necessary to get a contract and follow his dream. But I didn’t think that meant fucking some 40-year-old hag!” I snapped.
Tre smiled apologetically at some older woman at the table next to us, who looked like she was about to throw some sort of fit.
“So you know what? Who cares if that was the only time he cheated on me? I’m not taking him back. The stupid fucking sonuvabitch!”
“Miss,” said a waiter who happened to be passing by. “We like to keep this place family oriented, so if you could lower your voice and watch your language.”
I glared at the waiter, but nodded. He looked a little uneasy and started to walk away. “Sorry about that,” I said to Tre.
“It’s okay,” he chuckled. “You just got really, well, excited. I kind of thought you were going to flip the table or something.”
I smirked a bit. “No,” I sighed. “I feel really bad now, because the entire evening, I’ve been wondering whether or not I still loved him. And now I know that I don’t.”
“That’s good, I guess,” Tre said.
“It is,” I smiled, taking another sip of champagne.

[Kill]

Haha, nice. I like this story a lot.

[suicideXmakeover]

This part was so much fun to write.

Part 8
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW
“You know what I absolutely love?” Lydia screeched, taking another sip of champagne.
“What?” I asked, suppressing my laughter at her drunkenness. I had only had a few sips of the champagne, but after seeing the effect it was having on her, I decided to just start drinking water and coffee.
“I love butterflies. They’re so pretty, you know?”
“Yeah, they are,” I said, nodding. There was a woman at the table next to us who was glaring at Lydia and talking to her husband, probably about what an annoyance Lydia was.
“Sorry, that was random,” she giggled. “I was just thinking about butterflies and I thought I’d mention them to you. But you know what else I love?”
“What?” I questioned, the smile coming to my face once again as I took wild guesses in my mind as to what she would say.
“That song by the Used. I think it’s called ‘The Taste of Ink’ or something. Have you ever heard it?” She placed her glace back on the table and reached for the bottle. I was about to grab it from her, but she got it before I did and filled the glass to the brim, spilling some over the sides.
“I don’t know,” I said, her lack of sobriety not seeming nearly as funny now. I was starting to get a little worried.
“It goes, ‘HERE I AM! IT’S IN MY HANDS! AND I’LL SAVOR EVERY MOMENT OF THIS!’ Do you recognize it?”
I squinted a bit at the sound of her loud “singing”, which I prayed sounded better when she was sober. “Yeah,” I lied.
“I just love that song. It’s so incredible,” she sighed, grabbing at her chest and leaning back in the chair. “This is some really good champagne.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, taking a sip of my water. It was interesting to be on this side, watching other people be drunk while I was quite sober. It really made me think.
“Is there any more?” she asked, reaching over toward the bottle and almost falling onto the table.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Yes there is,” she proclaimed, grabbing the bottle again. This time she swirled the liquid around in it’s bottle for a second before deciding to just drink straight from the bottle. I ran my fingers through my hair in embarrassment, but said nothing. “Now I have that song stuck in my head,” she laughed. “HERE I AM! IT’S IN MY HANDS!”
“Lydia,” I whispered, but it was too late to stop her. She began belting out a verse, and the woman from the other table came over.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, quite loudly.
“What?” Lydia snapped.
“You have been doing nothing but annoying my husband and I since you got here. Now if you can’t shut up, then find a Burger King to get drunk in!” she growled.
“Well, last time I checked, this was a free country and I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Lydia took another gulp from the bottle.
“Look, this is a nice, respectable restaurant. I’m surprised you and your boyfriend here haven’t been kicked out already. Now I’ve tolerated your singing and your screaming for the past hour. I don’t plan on taking it any more. Either you leave or I will make sure one of the waiters escorts you out of here.”
Lydia blinked at her for a second before taking another swig of the champagne…and promptly spitting it onto the front of the woman’s dress. “Bitch,” Lydia snickered. I stared in total disbelief.
“I…I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Well, she will be too in a second,” said the woman, looking at the front of her dress before rushing off. Her husband looked like he wanted to laugh. I threw him an apologetic smile, and he beckoned for me to come over to his table as Lydia sat, continuing to drink.
“Tell your girlfriend that I said thank you. My wife’s been bitching about her all night, and hopefully she’ll shut up about it now,” he chuckled. I just smiled at him. “You look familiar,” the man said. “Where do I know you from?”
“Well, my name’s Tre Cool. I’m in a band called Green Day.”
“Green Day? My granddaughter is crazy about you guys!” he exclaimed. “Do you think maybe you could autograph something for her?”
“Sure,” I chuckled, looking over at Lydia, who didn’t even seem to notice that I was missing.
“Um, do you have a pen?” he asked.
“Hold on,” I said, rushing back over to my table. “Lydia, what are the odds that you have a pen?”
“Um….” She reached into her purse and dug around for a second before providing one. “Why?”
“Autographs,” I laughed, pointing to the guy.
“He’s with that woman! Don’t do him any favors,” she growled.
“Well, he seemed pretty impressed with what you did and told me to thank you,” I said.
“Oh.” She paused for a second before saying, “Carry on, then.”
I carried the pen over to the man before making out an autograph to some girl named Alexis, who was apparently 18 years old. “She’s crazy about the drummer,” the man told me. “She plays the drums and thinks he’s the greatest thing. Plus, according to her mother, she’s got a little celebrity crush.” I laughed. “What do you play?” he asked.
“The drums,” I chuckled.
“No kidding?” the man asked. “Well, would you mind if I left out the part about meeting you when you were on a date? Just so she has some hope?”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Although it’s going to be pretty hard to do that, considering my date assaulted your wife.”
The man chuckled, then thanked me for the autograph. I was just headed back to the table when the woman and a very burly waiter came over. “That’s her,” the woman snapped, pointing at Lydia. “She’s been a royal pain in my ass since she got here.”
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” he said to the two of us.
“What about the bill?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” He walked closely behind us as we headed toward the door. As we were leaving, I heard the man say, “You’ll never guess who that young man was.”