Blues

22. Blue Dress

"Put it on,
And don't say a word."
Blue Dress by Depeche Mode

Chapter Twenty-two:

Ethan checks his watch for the time, before he looks up at me once more, faking a chummy smile. “There you are!” He exclaims. “You never changed. Still into long, late nights, huh?” His insinuating voice leaves me utterly marvelled at how his acting skills have grown agreeable, but I still glimpse through his specious facade.

Hannah abruptly stands. “Now that you're here, I'll go to sleep.” She announces, simpering gawkily at us. “Night.”

We both return her smile with good-night’s. She doesn't take seconds before she disappears into her room, before our faces whip to face each other, my face wearing a baleful, contemptuous expression, and his wearing a sedate one. I can't help but heed the beard he has grown since the last time we've met, here in the same spot.

Have I mentioned that I hate my couch?

“Yeah, I still like to relish my nights, trying to eradicate those I've wasted in the past on you.” I slur with a mellow smile.

His face becomes stony, and I don't have to look down to see his clenched hands. I inherited my anger issues and movements from him. He advances toward me, his eyes hard. “I wouldn't use the word wasted, since I remember how much you enjoyed those nights, but-” he stops, raising a hand to fondle the collar of my shirt. “You wore less then.”

I slap his hand away. “Touch me with that hand again, and you'll have to hold onto your chicks with one hand while you do them, for the rest of your life.”

He chuckles at that, wiggling his other hand. “What about the other hand?”

I hum. “I see that you haven't changed either. Your sense of humor still sucks.” I allege, taking a seat on the couch. “Now, care to tell me why you decided to honor me with this visit?”

His huffs. “I came here to warn you. You're hanging with the wrong crowd.”

What?

“Wrong crowd?” I question. “What the fuck are you on, Ethan?”

“What the fuck are YOU on?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Weed like last night? Or are you doing something else?”

My jaw nearly hits the ground. How does he know that? “How do you even know about last night? Are stalking me? Do you have someone following me?” I bombard him with questions as I stand up and start toward him with an entire deadly bonfire in my eyes.

“Stalking you? I'd say you're the one who's stalking me.” He blusters, before a frown starts to crease the space between his eyebrows. “You don't..?”

“Don't what?” I cross my arms, my chest heaving up and down in pure lividity.

He stays silent for a short while, gawking at me with an incredulous visage. “Nothing.” He finally responds, laughing stolidly. “Just be careful. Don't deviate from your goal for someone who will never give you anything but a second heartache.” He cautions, before he spins and traipses toward the door.

“There was never a first. You just like to flatter yourself.” I assert to his back, my voice strident.

He stops for a heartbeat, before he turns the door-knob, pulls the door open, and leaves, never looking back.

I feel a sad smile materializing on my mouth.

He didn't remember my birthday, the way he never did.