Dissonance | ✓

19 | The Vixen

     Simply stated, Ximena reassumed her position as queen bitch. It did not surprise, nor bother, me. She was free to rain negativity over Riverdale as she did before. As long as our group project was finished to perfection, I was fine. There was no way her attitude would come between me and an A in Chemistry.

     I finished as much of the project as I could on my own, before going to Ximena to collect her share of the work.

     I was standing in the empty hall in front of her dorm. My hand was formed into a fist and rested on the door, hesitating before knocking. Just as I steeled myself, an elevator dinged behind me, its doors parting to reveal Ximena.

     The fuck are you doing here?" she cursed.

     I raised an eyebrow, but dismissed her temper. "I need the rest of the chem project. Its due soon."

     "Yeah, I've got it," Ximena opened her room and picked a thick document off of her desk. She motioned for me to enter. "You'll be glad to find no errors."

     I took the papers. "Thanks."

     For something I could not distinguish, the feeling that kept me in Ximena's threshold was indubitably strong. I was overstaying my visit, but she did not protest. Tension was heavy between us and I became determined to clear it.

     "Ximena," I rubbed the nape of my neck, though it was not as electric as it was when she once did it. "I love being your friend. Let me be your friend. You don't actually have a crush on me. There's nothing to like. Just...let's go back to how it was before."

     Her expression was blank: indecipherable. Not even a twitch of her nose. Never had I seen her like this.

     Ximena drew in a long breath. "I do want to be your friend," This would have ideally dissipated the tension, if not for the asperity of her tone. but not now. Not like this."

     "Not like what?" I scoffed. "What's so hard about this?"

     I wished she would have stopped picking her nails and answered me. Much to my disappointment, her habit had taken over the conversation. She was done.

∞

     As other students were straggling to their next classes, I weaved through the sea of people back to my dorm. Regardless of what subject I had next—history, I supposed—it would have had to wait: Ximena successfully frustrated me. That was becoming a trend with her and I.

     Once I opened the door, a swirl of wintry air wrapped around me like a scarf. Miranda left the window gaping open, as I knew she would have, but I was past being irked by it. I shut the window, then ensconced myself into a wheeled chair. The neck of my tattered journal was peaking out from the bottom drawer of the desk. Seeing as there was nothing else interesting in the dorm, I pulled it out of its hiding place. Writing required focus I lacked at that particular time, though I was up for flipping through my more recent works. Three minutes into it and I found myself editing everything five times over—perfectionism never failed to gain control when I critiqued anything.

     One work, dated from just over a week before and centered around a recurring theme that made its debut in my art, reminded me of why I was lounging in my dorm rather than being in class—something I was trying to forget:

The vixen, with her fluid

And teasing sashay, coaxes

Prey into her schemes.

She paws at heart strings

And offers churlish rejections.

Not a game she plays, more a lifestyle.