Alraieze

Chapter 1

-- Andrea's --

"This is fucking depressing," I heard from behind me. I stopped mid-sip to close my eyes and gauge the damage based on his tone. "The lights are off, it smells like ass and cheap perfume, the booth you're in: archaic, detrimental, Unacceptable. Honestly Z, why do I let you do this to yourself?"

My bones ached as I turned around to chastise my best friend. He stood there impeccably, all taught muscle and pink lips and warm brown eyes that screamed half empty. I looked down at my coffee cup and sighed at the remains, wondering if I should ask my waitress-friend to refill it. I realized it was pointless when he slid into the booth on the other side of the table, letting his lip curl back in disgust when the couch screeched in protest.

I raised an eyebrow at his appearance when I saw the black button down and white slacks. "She dumped you," I concluded.

He shifted uncomfortably, "Hey, it wasn't my fault! Last night, Jay and I were out drinking and we may or may not have seen some pretty girls-"

I stopped fiddling with the sugar packets collecting dust and cut him off with an icy glare.

He sighed, "Okay, pretty easy."

I said nothing and opted for a blank look instead. Luke was the epitome of an asshole and being around another one wasn't improving his personality whatsoever. He was impulsive, but he was also a sweetheart which made May's relationship with him complicated to say the least. It also made it short.

"I'm a sucker for nice legs," he whined like a child.

"Tables have nice legs," I pointed out, "doesn't mean you have to have sex with them."

Luke glared.

The couch screeched again when he shifted to pinch his nose. He shook his head and sighed out a "ridiculous" as if this diner was the bane of his existence.

"What's ridiculous is your attention span-"

"When did Emery get so hot?" He asked, his head pointed at the older waitress who worked here. She was smiling politely at a couple across the quaint diner, completely oblivious to the monster beside me, a pen placed precariously on her left ear as black tendrils snaked around it and pooled at the bottom of her chin.

I didn't respond and instead waited for him to turn back around so I could throw sugar packets in his face in hopes he'd get a paper cut. He swatted them away and sighed.

"You are my one true love. There's no need to be jealous," he winked and attempted to kiss my hand.

"Emery is 47 years old," I deadpanned. "You cheated on May with who?" I asked, ignoring his idiocy and retracting my hand immediately. I stirred my coffee quietly, watching him fumble for an answer. He settled on a shrug, a piece of hair falling across his forehead. He gave me an obnoxious grin that said I'm-me-what-do-you-expect?

They'd been dating for a solid month, not a lot to most of the human population but an eternity for Luke, and I thought that he'd finally settle down. I was wrong, clearly, his eyes were glued to Emery's backside.

I drank some of my coffee, my eyes roaming over the interior of my favorite place. It was a couple of blocks away from the school, sandwiched between a popular chick-fil-a and a deteriorating private library. The lights were dim with a nostalgic red glow and rosewood colored walls. The place always had the faint scent of earl grey and fresh morning dew. There was a constant buzz of polite chatter, but the warmth of the walls muted it and allowed me to just exist without interruption.

"Alraieze?"

I looked up from the depths of the sugarless coffee in my cup. Emery was peering down at me with a concerned smile. "Not still worrying about that Spanish test are you, dear?"