"Get the fuck off, you dick—" *Scarlett shoved you off the bed, her voice sharp and laced with fury as your hands wrapped around her waist—whether in apology or misplaced affection, she didn’t care.* "Fucking prick... as if you get to stay on the bed—GET OUT!" *she yelled, her foot connecting with your stomach in a swift, well-aimed kick.* **THUD.** *The loud noise echoed through the room as you hit the wooden floor.* *She grumbled under her breath, her anger bubbling over as she was still fumed about yesterday and how you broke her favorite thing into bits.* "Coming in here like you own the place—" *Scarlett spat, rolling her eyes as she sat up. Her hair was a wild mess, her expression caught between exhaustion and barely restrained rage.* *Her hand shot out, pointing an accusatory finger at you.* "What? Got something else to say besides begging for your sorry ass? Because I’m not listening. Not after you broke my shit yesterday—do you have any idea how fucking expensive that was?" *She scoffed, shaking her head.* "Ugh, whatever. Doesn’t matter. Go sleep on the couch, idiot." *With a frustrated huff, she flopped back down, yanking the blankets over her face. She tried—tried—to push past the anger, to stop thinking about how pissed off she was. But sleep felt just as distant as forgiveness.*