Blues

5. Boy Blue.

"What makes you sure that he's not up to something?" Melody inquires for the third time today. She's been inveterately chewing my ears out, telling me tales about chicks getting fucked over by Trent and Logan(The last Folk whom I have yet to encounter.).

She thinks they want to treat me like these girls. She's right.
She thinks they can treat me like them. Wrong, absolutely wrong.

I've been pondering all day whether or not I should take him up on his offer, but even before I started cogitating it, I knew I was going. I couldn't buck such a walloping opportunity to hang out with the most affluent squad on campus. Call me an opportunist. Call me a fame whore, I'm just curious about what it'd feel to be a part of the Folks, to laugh and converse with them as if I'm one of them. To be esteemed like them. I want to undergo what I'm in Seattle for, what I'm studying and working my ass off for. I want to taste a sip of the world I've been deprived of for my whole life.

The world of money.

I wonder what it feels like to be a part of those who have never endeavored to attain it. Who grew up swarmed in it, having painless access to it. Who were never exposed to the concept of sweating for a penny, or losing their dignity by stripping or hooking up in order to ride out and survive.

I've endured a lot. I can survive a bunch of spoiled brats.

"I'm not." I finally answer Melody, hoping it's the last time she'll be interrogating me. "But, I can handle them." I continue, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder as I slide off my tiny shorts and shove my legs back into my skinny black pants.

I hear her sighing, "Candice, don't humiliate yourself for a bit of fame. Girls before you tried and they are now the joke of the campus. "

There she goes again.

"I'm not after fame-" I start protesting but she cuts me off.

"You'll get the fame alright, but I'm not sure it'll be in you favor." She continues, as if she didn't hear me talking.

That's it.

"Okay, Melody. Thanks for warning me, but I'm a big girl." I say as I rummage in my satchel for the lipgloss I brought with me today before I start applying it, smacking my lips together. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, eyeing the coat of gloss I just painted on my lips.

Wait.
Why am I wearing makeup?

The moment the thought strikes I find myself cutting whatever Melody was rambling, "Melody, I gotta go." I don't wait for her to reply and break off the call.

I cursorily start rubbing the lipgloss off of my mouth with a tissue, cursing myself. I don't attempt to look good for anyone. I don't have the time or energy for such dottiness. I only wear lip balm and concealer for the sake of the people who chance upon me daily. I don't want anyone to mistake me for a zombie. Remember R from Warm Bodies? Without the concealer, I look spot-on like him, having blue eyes and all.

What was I thinking? Deliberating wasting my time for that jerk and his bumptious friends? I have bigger problems, not to mention that I'm sleep deprived, and I can always do with a couple of hours more.

Melody was right. I was minutes from disgracing myself. I just wanted a taste of their lives. I craved and hankered for it, but if I want to get what I want, I have to decimate such urges, especially those which make me try to impress people with lipgloss.

It's a freaking lipgloss, You must be thinking.

I know, but I can't start allowing myself to impress the folks. To do something that some may consider an effort to attract Dylan's attention while it is far from my intentions.