Friday 9:00 a.m
To: Arabella

"Because.. I just, I don't know Ari! I really don't. I guess I never thought it was that important, much less if you even cared but I wanted to tell you before you even heard from someone else. Please let me explain, alright? I tell you everything."

Message Sent Friday 10:12 a.m

This will never work...

Message Read, Friday 10:15 a.m

Sitting at the table of the pizza parlor, he slipped his phone into his back pocket and awaited her answer. Placing his elbows on the table and letting his head rest on his hands, he sighed and tried to think of a way to tell her. She trusted her best friend with almost everything. She will be so hurt and threatened when and if she finds out. All their secrets could go down the drain, the memories. Maybe most weren't fake but the fact that Ari saw the good in everyone, she didn't realize that money had taken over her apparent best friend.

The clearing of a throat brought him out of his little cave and sea of thoughts, only to wish he could go back.

Rolling his eyes then standing up to pull out the chair for no other than his soon to be wife, Rose.

"So, I've been writing some things for my journalism class, would you like to look?" Speaking lightly as she turned to gather her unorganized papers and notebook out of her blue bag.

"I don't have a choice do I?" He muttered boringly. She shook her head and basically shoved the papers into his hands, almost dropping them all over the place. Huffing slightly and glaring at Rose, he started to organize the papers neatly.

"This isn't really..." He didn't finish. He shook his head and handed her the papers.

"But you-"

"I'm tired, Rose. I know you try, good job." He gritted out.

"What's your issue?" She glared and balled up her fists.

"Nothing Rose, just nothing." Maybe if he just went along with it, they could be friends and maybe there is some compassion left in the women to call the wedding off.

"Whatever." She huffed then looked towards the waiter bringing the pizza and sneered Max's way in disgust then getting up and leaving.

Shrugging and being glad that she has left, he mumbled a thank you to the boy that only seemed around sixteen and then dug into the pizza with a satisfied grunt.

Pizza always seemed to help him relax.