𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐊𝐎𝐕 was the type of girl who wouldn't take shit from anyone.
𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 was the type of guy who would give her hell just to spite her.
♚
❝𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 �...
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ＳＯＭＥＴＨＩＮＧ
𝔤𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰
♜
I lay on the hood of the Cruiser at our school parking lot, my legs hanging off of the edge where Hyde and Kelso sit.
"Man, where the hell is Eric?" Michael whines. "I've got to get out of here before Jackie finds me."
"What did you do now?" Steven asks.
"I didn't say 'I love you' after lunch. I do it all day! After gym, 'Love you, Jackie.' After algebra, 'Love you, Jackie.' Hell, after I say, 'Love you, Jackie,' I say, 'Love you, Jackie.' It sickens me!"
I sit up and wrap an arm around each of their shoulders. "You'll get used to it."
"Hey, man, check it out," Hyde grins, pointing to the car next to us. "Foggy windows."
"Bummer," Kelso sighs. "Someone must have left their hot lunch in their car."
"No, you idiot, someone's in there making out, man."
I tilt my head and glance at the black, steamy car. "That's kind of hot," I mutter.
The boys turn to me with raised eyebrows and I shrug. "What?"
Suddenly, the door closest to us and a girl that I vaguely recognize stumbles out.
"Patty!" Hyde calls as she turns.
"Wh- Oh, hey Hyde," she stutters. "How are you doing?"
"Super," he smirks.
An awkward moment passes. "Okay, well, I'll see you."
As she rushes away, Mike asks, "Hey didn't you go out with that girl?"
"I don't think so," he deflects.
A bell rings in my mind. "Oh, wait, that's the girl that dogged you on that blind date, isn't it?"
"Who cares?" he scoffs. "Let's see what loser she ended up with." He carefully opens the side door and Fez appears in front of us.
"Hello."
"Burn!" Kelso yells as I giggle into his shoulder. "Man, that was a burn."
"Thank you for your advice, Anastasia," Fez smiles. "I put it to good use."
"You're welcome, Fezzie."
♜
Holding up Hyde's Rolling Stones '75 Tour shirt, I contemplate folding it or just stealing it.
I shrug, slipping it over my head and tucking it into the waistband of my bell-bottoms.
"Princess, you're supposed to help me do the laundry, not take my shit," the owner of the shirt sighs.
