Time seem to pass by in a blur. With me actively avoiding Beck the whole morning—more like the other way around since he always seemed to veer to the other direction whenever I see him walking down the corridor—I've been busy. By busy, I mean borrowing Shay's social media to keep tabs on Beck's status whether he's updated with a post like TMZ on a juicy Friday and a titty pic and ass shots.
"Why don't you just create one of your own?" she'd asked. I simply shrugged making a joke that it the Kennedy's were alive, I would. Shay hadn't mentioned my bandaged hand nor my night at the Pitt with Zean and the others, to which I was somewhat grateful.
I could create one since I wasn't completely barred from using an actual phone application. I just don't want to. I'm not making that mistake again
