Sisi / Season 1

39⁒

I come face to face with none other than J.

I frown at his presence. He's dressed in black denim and a black shirt.

"Good morning," he smirks at me.

"Good mor—What are you doing here?" I ask him, trying not to seem too confused, but rather curious.

I raise my hand over my mouth, just in case he has a good sense of smell.

He shrugs, "I didn't know when you left George's party. I just wanted to see if you made it home."

Half of me is like, 'damn, that's sweet.' He must have showed up a lot later, because I don't recall bumping into him. The other half is drowning in my conflicting thoughts. My face gels over. I give him a short smile, then soon bite it off. I hold the door carefully. One ear listens to the shower running in the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm here," I say nonchalantly.

He stands there nonetheless. I keep my eyes locked on his.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" he asks, his lop sided lips lop even more.

I open my mouth, stalling for a response. Does he think I'm easy or what?

"I already have a man... in here," I say in a hush.

Great, now I sound like a whore, I think to myself. I want to smack myself. I should have said something cleverer. His eyes travel down my toes and up my head.

"I don't believe you," he challenges.

I blink, not knowing how to make sense of this conversation. Maybe he believes I'm some goody-goody girl or something. I like challenges.

I shake my head a bit, "I wasn't trying to prove anything."

"Oh, it's just that you pretend a lot. I don't know if you're lying," he explains, condescending.

I shift my weight on one leg and fold my arms across my chest. I put on my attitude face, that I've inherited from my mother.

"Please. I may be pretentious. But you don't know me. So don't you dare find time to call me a liar."

Suddenly, the door swings right open—all the way. I jump, ready to fight the ghost. But freshly washed Étienne stands there instead. My shoulders stay stuck up to my ears. I probably look as though I've seen a ghost. I don't feel blood pumping to my head. Shat! Shat!

"Can I help you?" Étienne asks, like there would be something to help with.

Maybe I had raised my voice, making him come over here. J shoots me a quick 'right' glance, smiling. Well, this isn't good. I cower, looking away. Mortification tints my face, my aura, my soul.

He then decides to answer, "I'll let you know."

I watch J leisurely walk off. I slowly turn to Étienne.

"Who told you can waltz in my conversations like that?"

He motions his chin towards the direction, in which J disappeared, beyond the hallway.

"I didn't like the way he was talking to you."

I watch him shake his T-shirt, before pulling it over his head. I'm ready to punch him, while he's not looking. But my fists don't move.

"You were listening?" I ask, angered.

"Not exactly," he turns and sits in the futon.

"Not exactly?" I question for more specificity.

He sighs and says, "I just don't like that guy."

I direct my freshly washed attitude his way, now. My head tilts.

"Oh? You know him?"

"Wish I didn't," he murmurs.

I pause, not wanting to argue anymore, because it sounds silly. But I'm a girl notorious for sounding silly.

"Really? How?" I ask.

Étienne leans back in the futon. His eyes look as though they're going to a dark place.

"He's the guy my girlfriend was fucking."

My shoulders fall. Speechless, I watch Étienne turn on the TV, and get lost as soon as he turns on his video game. I make several attempts to say a word, but nothing goes past my vocal chords. The shadows shrink. Part of me feels disgusted that I fell so fast for a player. Part of me wants to comfort Étienne. Part of me desperately wants to take a shower.

But there's no warm water.

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