(Chelsea Luna)
I looked though his dresser and finally found a white tank top, just plain white. My jeans were pretty dry so I left them on. I took my hair out of my pony-tail and ruffled it a bit. I came out and saw him shuffling through the DVDs.
"Find one yet?" I asked.
before he could reply, my phone rang. "Hold on." I smiled.
I picked up my phone....
"Hello?" I asked.
"Chelsea?" He said it like a song. Mr.Brightside by the Killers.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"It's Marc."
"I'm hanging up." I said narrowing my eyes at nothing.
"No! Don't! I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Fuck off." I growled.
"Just tell me if you're alright." He begged.
"I'm with Brian I'll be fine without you. Go home Marc, no one wants you here."
I turned up the volume to the phone to where you culd hear all the way to China.
"I'm not angry at you about Zac anymore." he said clenching his teeth.
"That wasn't my fault." I lied.
"Yeah it was, because you were stupid and drunk and high. It was your fault Chelsea. But I'm not angry about it as much anymore." Marc growled.
