How Long is Forever?

How Long Until I Get My Way?

Chris:

I slowed as we pulled up to stop sign, trying to find a way to tell Kat I wasn't going to the party.

There were three ways she could react. 1. She might bat her eyes and beg me to go. Chances are, I'd give in and end up going. 2. She might agree to ditch the party and we'll go somewhere else. This is the preferred option. 3. She might literally drag me to the party.

"Chris, bad things always happen when you're quiet," Kat pierce my thoughts.

"What? No!" I protested. Sometimes I just liked to be quiet. Nothing wrong with that.

"In 1st grade, you were quiet during painting time. You peed your pants. In 5th grade, you were quiet on that one field-trip. You had an allergic reaction to a bee sting. In 8th grade, you were quiet at our graduation. You messed up the words of your speech. Sophomore year, you were quiet during that track meet. You passed out on the drive home. In-" I interrupted Kat's monologue with a groan.

"Need I continue?" She smirked at me. I inwardly cringed at all those memories and shook my head.

"No, you've made your point perfectly clear," I admitted my defeat.

"Good," Kat smirked, "Now what's wrong?"

She wasn't going to drop it. I knew that very well. Five minutes of trying to plan my next words had produced nothing but a stream of embarrassing memories. I guess I'd wing it an jump right in.

"I'm not going to the party," I shrugged and didn't make eye contact. Kat was like a wild animal at times like this, if you made eye contact, you may as well consider yourself dead.

"Yes you are," she shot back in record time.

"Nope."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Not happening."

"Yes."

"Ugh, knock it off," I complained after we'd gone back and forth for five minutes.

"I win," Kat sat back in her seat, looking quite pleased.

"No!" I shouted quickly.

"Why not?" Kat insisted.

"Why not what?" I asked, suddenly losing all memory of the past 10 minutes.

"Why won't you go to the party, idiot," Kat punched my arm.

"Hey, don't punch the driver," I scolded her. Kat groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Stop changing the subject," she whined.

Well, there was no point in fighting it any longer. "It'll only make sh*t worse," I shrugged and hoped she'd drop it.

"Elaborate, please," she persisted in her efforts.

"Parties are your thing, not mine. And Alison would have a year's worth of b*tchy comments if I showed up."

Kat groaned and I felt a shift in her energy. Creepy, I could even feel her energy shift. Very creepy.

"Please?" She begged. F*ck. We've entered the begging stage. I knew it would come to this. Willpower, don't fail me now.

I shook my head, knowing that if I opened my mouth, I'd give in.

"Come on, Chris, it'll be fun," Kat pleaded. I shook my head again.

"I'm scared someone will hurt me if you aren't there," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Fine," I stated immediately after hearing her. Kat laughed from beside me. She wasn't supposed to be laughing. What?

"Joke's on you, I'm never afraid," Kat laughed and slammed the car door shut behind her.

"Where are you going?" I yelled after her without thinking. I looked at our surroundings. Oh, we'd been in front of her house. I hadn't even noticed.

Yep, I was hopeless.

Kat:

"Are you ready yet?" Chris whined and banged on my bedroom door. Maybe if I didn't respond he'd go away. Yea, that was a good idea.

I brushed on another coat of mascara and ignored Chris. "If I don't hear anything from you in the next 5 seconds, I'll be forced to assume you're dead," Chris continued to bang on my door.

"Go away!" I shouted through the door.

"She lives!" Chris exclaimed.

This was not a good idea. I'd told Chris he could come over to my place while I got ready, then we'd go. But apparently Chris didn't understand that 'getting ready' was a 4 hour process. Now, he was impatiently physically assaulting my door.

Quickly I swiped on some lipstick, shoved my phone in my purse and swung the door open.

"Chris! What the h*ll are you wearing?!" I screamed at him. He backed up and raised his hands in surrender.

"Pajamas....?" He answered cautiously. I groaned and went back into my room, slamming the door for emphasis. I went to my closet, knowing exactly what I was looking for.

"Here," I said, shoving a pile of clothes at Chris' chest. He examined the clothes, looking both surprised and confused.

"I knew you'd pull a stunt like this, so I raided your closet for acceptable party clothes yesterday," I explained, quite proud of my genius.

"You know me so well," Chris ruffled my hair.

"No!!! I spent 2 hours on my hair!" I shrieked and clawed at Chris' arm. He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door before I could do any damage.

"Just get dressed," I mumbled and retreated to my room to fix my mop of hair.

"My work of art is complete," I concluded, eyeing Chris. The clothes I'd picked were perfect. Dark jeans, a t-shirt, and a tough looking jacket I'd found at the very bottom of his closet.

"I feel like an as*hole," he mumbled and looked down at himself.

"It's a great feeling, isn't it?" I shrugged and dragged Chris by his arm towards the door.

"Wait, wait, wait," he protested, "What are you wearing?"

"A dress. Come on, Chris. I know social sh*t isn't your thing. But I'd like to believe the you can at least recognize a dress," I teased him and tried to push him out the door.

"Put some clothes on," he demanded. I groaned and ran a hand through my perfectly straightened hair. Chris could be a pain when he got like this. I gestured at the fabric covering my body, showing him that I was indeed clothed.

"Kat," Chris warned. I wanted to tell him to chill, but I also wanted to live through tonight.

I sighed and quickly jogged up the stairs. At least, as quickly as I could in heels. Every time I wear heels, I'm reminded of how much I hate them. And how much I hate Alison. And parties. And drunken idiots. And cocky jocks.

I reappeared downstairs with a light shawl-type-thingy. Only once I'd draped it over my shoulders, Chris opened the front door.

"Get your sh*t together, you'll need all the help you can get tonight," I patted Chris on the back and headed to his car.

So much for being reassuring. Oh well.