The Third Wheel

Three ~ Pushover

“Let’s go out,”

“Let’s not,” I counted quickly, not bothering to look up from my book.

Sasha’s definition of ‘out’ usually meant a club or bar. Or, yes, another party. She was almost over her hangover.

Sasha poked her blonde head out from behind my closet door, glaring at me. “Typical Ariel,”

I spared her a brief amused glance before returning to the printed words. “Typical Sasha,”

“Stop that!” she scowled, coming out from behind the door in just her black lacy bra and a pair of low riding faded denim jeans.

I rolled my eyes and bore them into my book, determined not to be affected by her gorgeous and perfectly proportioned figure. “Stop what?”

“Stop rewording and repeating what I say!” she said in exasperation, coming closer and plopping onto the bed beside me.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple with a sigh. “You couldn’t put a shirt on, could you?”

Sasha ignored me, her glare on the side of my face.

“What?”

“Why don’t you want to come to parties with me?” she asked abruptly.

“Because it’s me Sasha!” I exclaimed, putting my book down. “You know I’m not interested in your kind of stuff,”

Sasha rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, yes, I know; you like to study and get good grades and nerdy shit like that,”

“I want to be a doctor, Sash,” I said flatly. “It means I have to get good – no, scrap that – excellent grades this year or I’ll blow my chances!”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t come to a party, or a club, once in a while!”

“Even without the studying, I’m still not that kind of girl who goes partying, drinking, doing drugs and sleeping around with guys, like you,”

Hurt flashed across Sasha’s pretty face, already caked in makeup. She stood and stalked to my closet, returning with a loose fresh white top on before snatching some slip on shoes and shoving her feet into them.

“Sash, what are you doing?” I asked with a sigh.

She ignored me and continued to collect her party clothes that were folded neatly at the foot of my bed.

“You should really clean up your shit one day, Ariella,” she said snidely before storming to my door.

“Sasha, I’m sorry I said that, but you can’t deny that it is who you are,” I called out to her.

She whirled around to face me, anger written all over her face. “So?” she spat. “I know who I am, I know what I do doesn’t ‘appeal to you’-” she made very irritating quotations marks in the air. “-but you didn’t have to put it in such a bitchy way,”

“I’m sorry Cindy,” I said quietly and watched as her anger slowly faded away. “Look, aside from parties, you can choose where we go, and I’ll come without any complaints, ok?”

“Really?” she asked warily, half suspicious.

I mentally sighed but forced a smile. “Yes.”

Sasha suddenly grinned broadly, flashed a dazzling and equally mischievous smile, and I asked myself why I couldn’t have just said no.

***

“You said you would come without complaining!”

“I’m not complaining,” I said carefully, eyes narrowed and darting around the busy shopping mall, looking for the closest exit.