He closed his eyes, let out a rattled sigh, and regained his cheerful mask.
"So, Clodagh Reilly" he grinned, acting if our last conversation hadn't happened.
"Can I call you my friend? This is our second meeting, after all."
I hesitated. Investing any trust at all, and so soon, was risky. Even more so to someone who made me feel this way. Someone who had to potential to break me even further.
"Of course you can."
"Awesome!" he grinned, victorious.
Then my phone beeped.
"Silent" I murmured, fumbling with it. "Hold on, just let me hear this voicemail" I told Jake, foolishly not checking the sender.
"Clodagh, it's your father." I bit my tongue. "I will refuse to be talked to like that, especially since I have respected and trusted you enough to live with your.. aunt." The rage bubbled. "I demand to be treated with respect. Your mother wouldn't want you to treat me this way, and would be disappointed in you."
"Shut up shut up SHUT UP!"
My chest heaved, as I felt plenty of eyes boring into my back. Why couldn't they all just leave me alone?
"Lets go" Jake said calmly, getting up.
The cold air slapping my face calmed me slightly.
"I hate him so much" I seethed. Jake looked at me, somewhat helpless.
"Maybe he cares if he called" he suggested. I angrily shook my head.
"I screamed at his voicemail, and he uses my dead mother to guilt me. Nice."
Just then, my phone rang.