Pyromaniac

Chapter 5: Drink and Forget, Drunken Regrets

            Several drinks later, an auburn-haired girl and a brown-haired boy stood side-by-side, leaning against the balcony railing. Directly below them were scattered green beer cans all over Jonah’s freshly mowed lawn—the result of a failed attempt to balance each can on the railing.

            “And… what? Don’t tell me your parents told you to dump him,” Drew laughed, taking a swig of beer.

            She swiveled her head at him and arched an eyebrow. “What if I did?”

            The can came down and he wheeled his head to face her, studying her face and searching her eyes, finding nothing but sad amusement and solemnness. He choked down a cynical laugh and rubbed the bottom of his lip with his thumb, choosing not to comment.

            “I didn’t break up with him because my parents told me to,” she elucidated. “I did it because… he would have started feeling inferior to me. And no one would be happy that way.”

            Drew nodded slowly as his mind processed this. Even though she had opened up to him much earlier, he still was slightly in awe at the fact that the school bitch had such kind motives behind all the bitchy things she ever did. Never judge a book by its cover, he supposed.

            “You’re actually…” he began, voicing the general concept he deduced after analyzing all the facts he gleaned from her explanations. “You’re actually a really good person, aren’t you?”

            Her eyebrows knitted together in skepticism. She stayed silent for a moment before giggling. “What kind of bullshit is that?”

            “You’re pretending to detest him in order to get him to hate you, and that way, he can move on from you without being hurt,” Drew theorized to the cool night air. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

            He was. She pressed her lips together. Was she that transparent? Damn. And she thought she was a good actor. “You can see through everyone. Am I right?” she asked, mocking him playfully.

            Drew grinned. “I’m just the same kind of idiot as you are.”

            A wry smile painted itself across her lips. “What does that mean?”

            “It means I’d do the exact same thing.”

            Now, it was Estella’s turn to fall silent and let his words wrap around her brain as they hung in the air. She reached for another beer in the cooler and cracked it open, bringing it to her lips the second it started fizzing.

            “Shit,” Estella mumbled as she squinted at the blur of beer cans showered on the lawn. “Are those things dancing?”

            “Looks like it to me,” Drew replied awfully cheerily. “Can’t tell what dance it is, though.”

            “Maybe it’s the Wobble,” Estella proffered thoughtfully.

            He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

            “Then what is it?”

            His eyes drifted away from the pile of cans lying on the grass and found themselves wandering the night sky. “The Macarena.”

            “Liar,” Estella accused, but a grin adorned her face as she rubbed her teeth against her bottom lip, her line of vision tracing back to Drew. “You’re not even looking.”