You and I » Lip Gallagher [1] {EDITING}

»part 14 » tortured souls

I can't look at him.

If I look at him I'll forget all the reason why I'm upset. All the reason why I shouldn't care about him the way I do. If I look at him I'll be stuck in his silky grasp that tightens around my heart like a noose. If I look at him I'll be hypnotized by that grin that makes me his prisoner. I avoid all his stares in classes like the plague.

After we had filthy sex in the alleyway, we didn't say a word. Everything we had to say was in the way we held each other. The way we kissed each other. The way our bodies moved.

I was angry with him. I understood that Monica being back knocked him out of orbit but today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be my fucking day and he forgot.

When I was younger, my birthday was like a fucking holiday. My mother decorated the house with pretty purple streamers and green balloons that I always got to suck the helium out. Chocolate cupcakes would flow all around the house because I was a sucker for the icing. Presents flooded all surrounding areas because I was an only child so they treated me like a damn princess. And at the end of the day, my father would always sing 'I Walk the Line' by Johnny Cash because it was my fucking favorite. It was my favorite day of the year.

And then reality hit me like a god damned truck. After my parent's divorce, my mother could barely afford to buy me any presents, let alone a fucking cake. I couldn't blame her. We were dirt poor. When we moved in with Aunt Sarah, and more birthdays came, my mother became more absent minded. To her it was another day of pills and drinks.

It was my least favorite day of the year.

Until I met Lip.

One day under the train tracks, we were a year into our newly found friendship when he demanded to know when my birthday was.

I told him a million times that I hated the day more than life itself and he told me a million times that he didn't give a fuck.

Every year on April 3rd, Lip would give me the simplest of items. A cupcake with extra chocolate frosting and a small purple candle.

He did that every year until we turned 13. Until he became a dick and I became exhausted. He still told me Happy Birthday every year but it was mostly followed with the flick of a cigarette and a middle finger.

So forgive me for thinking that now that Lip and I are....are...are –whatever the fuck we are- that he would actually remember the fucking date.

Excuse the fuck out of me for being stupid!

Every time he tried to talk to me during passing I would duck into the girl's bathroom until he gave up. He didn't seem too worried about it. Fuck face.

Anger clouded my thoughts most of the day.

After lunch, we were all prompted to head towards the gymnasium for college fair. Yippee.