"Hi, Lottie." I open my history book, trying not to meet her eyes.
"'Hi, Lottie.' Is that it?" Lottie tilts my chin up with her hand so I'm looking into her eyes.
"Sorry for... everything. I'm trying to be better, I promise." I try not to notice the warmth of Lottie's skin.
"It's okay, I know it's nothing personal." She takes her hand back from my face.

So during the tutoring session, I find myself longing for Lottie's touch. Y'know, with me being touch deprived and shit. In a family context, and Lottie's like my sister.

***

Over the next couple weeks, everything kinda spirals away from normal. I can hear people whispering whenever me and Lottie sit unusually close in the library, or when Lottie leaves her friends in the halls to walk me to class. The pointed glances from Jackie whenever I sit at a different table than the rest of the team, and Lottie drags me over to sit with them. If it was anyone else, I'd tell them to get fucked. But not with Lottie. She visits my work now, at the record shop. She just hangs around and glares at any guy that tries to flirt with me. She's looking out for me. As a friend.

Once this guy with greasy hair walked in, looking for the Nirvana records, and he kept touching me unnecessarily, with me snapping at him to not fucking touch me. The third time he did it, I punched him in the stomach. He hightailed it out of there. So here I am, behind my counter, headphones on.

"Hey, handsome." Lottie walks into the store, and I fumble to press pause on my music.
"Hey," I don't mention that I was just listening to the playlist she made me on spotify.
"How's your day been?" She hands me a coffee.
"It's been alright."

"No guys I need to drop kick?"
"Nope."
"How's things going with your dad?"
"He hasn't been home in three days."
"Good." She says, flicking some snow off her jumper.

It's been three months since I left that party without Lottie. Three months into a road of self redemption.

I'm actually pretty fucking proud of myself.

"How are you not shivering?" Lottie asks, pulling her jumper over her hands.
"Please, have you been in my trailer during the winter? It's like fucking antarctica!"
"No, I have not, ack-shually." She sneaks a sip of my coffee.

Okay, so me and Lottie are close now, if you can't tell. I know what you must be thinking: "oH mY gOd lOtTiE's wAy tOo gOoD foR yOu!" Well, news flash: I know! I'm a burnout, and she's the most popular girl in school. I only like her as a friend, too.

"Watcha listening to?" Lottie clicks the home button on my phone. "I thought you hated Taylor Swift!"
"No. I hate pop, not Taylor. Poor woman has enough idiotic haters." I snatch my phone back.
"Were you listening to my playlist?" she gives me puppy dog eyes. I sigh, reluctantly clicking onto the playlist.

'my angry lil italian man'