Cruel Summer - Conrad Fisher

Thirty

     "Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how stupid do I look?" Isla twirls into my room, facing Jeremiah and I. She pushes her red hair over her shoulder dramatically, showing off her flared dress pants and black blazer. The Deb ball is tomorrow night, and after long and hard consideration, I figured it'd be best if Isla came with me, not wanting to put anything else on Conrad's already very stressful plate.

    "Are you kidding?" Jeremiah asks, standing up from my bed, he twirls Isla around in a circle, letting a giggle escape her lips, "you look badass."

    "I second that," I tell her, standing up from my bed, despite the Deb not being till tomorrow, both Isla and I were changed into our outfits so Susannah could paint our portraits. She was painting one of the two of us, claiming that Isla was a part of the family now. "And you look way comfier, I can hardly breath in this."

    My dress is mermaid style and tight around my chest and hips. I didn't think it was possible to feel claustrophobic in an outfit until right now. I envy Isla's pants and jacket, which fit her tiny frame loosely.

    "You're lucky I love you," Isla tells me, teasingly. She found being my Deb partner funny, we both said it was a memory we'd look back on one day and tell our kids, "Steven's even roped me into doing the escort dance."

     "I'm sure it'll be fine," Jeremiah reassures, placing a hand on my best friends shoulder.

    I laugh, shaking my head at Jeremiah, "you clearly haven't seen Isla dance, she has no rhythm. You should of seen her at the prom, a guy would approach her and ask her to dance, and slowly abort once they saw her moves."

    Isla does this weird thing were she wiggles her hips, her arms in the air like one of those balloon things outside of car dealerships with the long arms. While my best friend was amazing at many things, dancing is not one of them. Every time we've practiced our waltz she stepped on my toes.

     "Well, maybe you just need a better teacher," Jere shrugs, his tone flirtatious. He and Isla have gotten a lot closer since she decided to stay, although whenever I brought it up she'd shush me and claim he was just being welcoming.

       I make a fake puking noise, covering my mouth with my hand, "that was disgustingly cheesy," I tell him, ruffling his hair as I walk towards my bedroom door, "I'll meet you outside."

    The sun was just about to set, Susannah said she wanted to paint Isla and I at golden hour, claiming the light was best then. She'd already tackled Belly's painting this afternoon, my sister fidgeting the whole time in her giant cupcake dress. "Got a hot date tonight?" I flinch at the sound of Conrad's voice, turning to see him leaning against his doorway. He'd just gotten back from surfing, his white t-shirt
slightly clinging to his chest, his hair wet. "Or is this a new look you're trying out?"

     "If I said it was a date, would you crash it again?" I ask him, tugging at the fabric clinging to my hips uncomfortably.

     "That guy was a jerk," Conrad sighs, tugging at his hair. I mentally scold myself for wanting to reach out and brush the loose strands that fall over his forehead. Keep yourself together, Florence. "I was doing you a favour."

    "That and you were jealous," I nod, smirking. It all made sense now that I knew Conrad's feelings. He crashed my date with Tripp that night because he was jealous of him.

    "I think I made that pretty obvious," Conrad shrugs, he says it so confidently, and I'm thrown off by it slightly. Remembering the way he made his jealousy known to me, the way his lips felt against mine and his hands held my hips. That night felt like it was a million years ago and yesterday at the same time. "I've gotta be honest, I'm pretty glad you're going to the ball with Isla. I don't have to be jealous now."