A Few Things about Love. Blake Griffin Fanfic pt. 2

;;Part 14 || Finale

                I choked out a laugh, giving into how true it was. Hell yeah I was proud. But I had done it out of anger. What made me so angry was the same thing that’s keeping me from allowing myself to be “proud.” I was too hurt.  

                “But,” Chelsea continued to chow down on her pancakes. “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to. We can leave him out of the picture today.”

                I poked at the remaining pieces of my third pancake. “I still love him, you know…”

                “I know.” She said as she got up from the table without her plate. She placed a hand on my shoulder before walking away. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

                A few hours after breakfast it was already 3pm and I was aimlessly flipping through movie channels in the living room. I wouldn’t dare allow myself to watch anything else, in fear of seeing myself and Blake on another entertainment show. I sighed and settled on watching Stardust for the millionth time, seeing as though nothing more interesting was on.

                I have to deal with it sooner or later, I told myself. No use being afraid.

                I brought my knees up to my chest as I made myself comfortable to watch the movie. As soon as I found a good position, the doorbell rang, causing me to sit up.

                “Chelsea!” I yelled, weakly. She had vanished into the back somewhere a little while ago, I hadn’t seen her since. I didn’t get a reply the first time, so I yelled again. “Chelsea, there’s someone at the door!” I was already getting up to answer it myself, halfway through the sentence. Her parents weren’t home, (they were away for some reason) so I took it upon myself to answer it anyway, hoping that the encounter will go by fast.

                “Hello?” I asked, trying my best not to look pissed off as opened the door.

                The person on the other side was no other than Dylan, holding a large red box.

                “Jordan?” He smiled.

                “Fuckin’ Dylan.” I said, feeling annoyed, surprised, and curious at the same time.

                “You live here??” He asked, looking around the front yard of Chelsea’s summer house. He still had that golden tan that I remembered from the first (and last) time we met. His hair might have been cut shorter now, but it was still dark; the color black.  I didn’t notice it before, but his eyes were blue. When he looked me in the eye, I couldn’t look away.

                “No. What are you doing here?” I asked, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

                “I… I’m here to deliver this to this address.” He handed me the red box which I raised an eyebrow at as I took the box inside and set it down behind me. “If it’s not your place, then whose is it?” He smirked, almost as if he were challenging me.

                “Chelsea’s, shouldn’t you know that?” He was about to reply but I talked over him. “Who’s the box from?” I asked.

                “I dunno, some costumer of my mom’s. She owns a store downtown. They asked for it to be delivered here.” Dylan shrugged, his childish smirk never going away. “Might have been Chelsea.”

                I thought about it for a second and nodded my head. “Yeah…”

                “Soo,” he stuck his hands into the pockets of his dark red board shorts. “If you’re not busy later…”