Chapter 4 : on the art of reluctant explanations
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Okay, 'that Dustee chick' is none other than Dustee Skye – whose name I think is quite hilarious – the slightly fabulous and famous wild child of her native New York City.
She's the exact opposite of Delilah in every single way possible. Whilst Dee is tall, freckled, with lengthy blonde hair and forget-me-not blue eyes, Dustee is short, tanned, with a pixie-crop cut black hair. She's different. Which is why I go out 'partying' with her, a lifestyle I can never have if I allow myself to abide by Delilah's rules. Don't get me wrong – I love Dee. But her idea of 'fun' is staying in on a Friday night playing Bingo, or some other equally boring Muggle game. Or watching a movie that she's seen a million and one times. So, when Dustee called me up on a Friday night, I completely forgot about Dee's wedding the next day, put on my sluttiest dress – regretfully - and hit the London clubs.
At first, it was just an average night out. Then it took a turn for the worst. Dustee – of course – was first to find some poor guy to snog (and by snog, I mean, probably have sex with in the club's bathrooms) and I was left alone at the bar. Anyway, a hot guy plus alcohol plus lack of Dustee nearby equals... something bad. Like, me completely drunk and taking Hot Random home and doing the dirty deed right on my couch. Thanks, Dustee, for your supervision.
So yeah. Now you know. Josh will be even madder if he finds out about the whole fiasco than he is right now. About Dee. With me missing her wedding.
I groan, loudly, although I'm about sixty percent sure nobody can hear me. Then, a new message 'tings' and pops up onto my screen. It's from Delilah.
Great. Molly. Not, Mollybabe, or Mols, or Molmonkey. Just Molly.
- you owe me big time, you little bitch.
Ouch. I deserve that.
Don't reply to this. When I'm ready to talk to you, I will.
As is expected. I sigh, and think about calling Mother. But no, she was at that wedding. She's just as mad at me as Delilah. Actually, I'm not sure it's possible for her to be as angry as Delilah. As pissed off as Josh, maybe. It's a sign that she hasn't rung.
Usually, she rings me once or twice a day, and has done since I moved out.
I sigh again – I may turn into somebody who sighs instead of talks if I'm not careful – and start on a pastel drawing, for Dee. She's always loved how I draw. Possibly drawing something specially for her – which I haven't done since we were ten and I broke her watch – could ease her into a better mood.
I sigh again.
Hey guys! Haven't updated this in a while! (Updating now because there is a short queue and I'm naughty, because I should be focusing on finishing my entries for challenges instead.)
Anyways. Back to relevancy.
Any thoughts on this? Plot thickening, is it not?
Yes? No? Bored? Excited?
Yeah. Running out of things to say. Once I finish aforementioned challenges, I will get right back to posting AA.
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