Girl's Night

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EVERYONE ALWAYS SWEARS that they will never fall for their best friend, and I'm no exception. That is a promise that I made to myself long ago, and I intend to keep it.

It is, however, undeniable that there are times when I wish that I'd never made that promise. There are times when Presley Scott draws me in with her toothy smile, symmetric dimples and perfectly curled hair. She's every lesbians dream girl- friendly, accepting, hilarious.. But, she's also been my best friend since second grade and my brother's girlfriend since my freshman year.

Which is why Presley Scott will forever be an intangible visage that I should never think of in any sort of pathetic and romantic way. I wouldn't want to lose her to a fruitless crush.

"Pink or sparkles?" A hand is thrusted into my field of vision- two nails are painted with two brashly different colors.

"Pink," I respond automatically. I always thought glitter nail polish tended to look a bit tacky in large amounts, but Presley had a weak spot for it.

"You sure?" She asks, staring contemplatively at her hand. I can tell she wants me to change my mind.

"No, actually," I give in, "The sparkles are spunkier."

Presley grins and wipes off the pink, happily stroking the thick glitter polish neatly over each rounded nail. Her face is intent and focused and the room is plundered into a focused silence. I turn the page of my book, the sound of crinkling paper tearing through the soundless field. Presley caps the bottle of nail polish and moves to sit beside me on the bed. Her hands are splayed out in the air in front of her and she lazily waves them back in forth, chunks of glitter catching the light and sparkling in my eye.

"Whatcha reading now?" She asks, resting her chin on my shoulder. I'm acutely aware of every inch of her body that is pressed so comfortably up against mine.

"Just an old Jerry Spinelli book," I mutter, setting the book down beside me and looking up into Presley's eyes.

She laughs, a happy little ripple.

"I used to love his books. Come to think of it, I still do," she says appreciatively.

As I open my mouth to reply, there's a brisk knock on the door and my brother enters. Presley pops up and crosses the room to embrace him, she giggles as he hands skim a little low on her back, but my stomach tightens.

"Fuck, Aaron, I barely get any Presley-time lately," I complain, whining slightly. After pecking Presley on the cheek he eyeballs me,

"To be honest, I'm actually not here to steal Pres away from you- mom says dinner's ready." Contrary to what he says, Aaron pulls Presley into his bedroom and I try to ignore glimpsing their intense make-out as I pass his open door to meet my mom in the kitchen. Sighing, I begin to pile m plate with what mom's cooked up- potatoes and veggies along with some sort of chicken noodle soup. It looks genuinely delicious, but my stomach doesn't quite seem to agree.

"Is it good?" My mom asks a couple of seconds after I sit down, although I clearly haven't taken a bite yet. I give her a half smile and take a sip of the soup to appease her.

"Delicious," I reply, beginning to chow down as my appetite was peaked.

Minutes later, Presley and Aaron finally come chortling down the stairs. Her curled hair is a bit messy and his shirt looks a little rumpled, but their flushed faces are really what hints at the make out session. I blush and stare down at my plate. My mother, on the other hand, refuses to ignore these signs and begins to speak.

"So, Aaron, how are you and Presley doing?" Her question is a bit awkward, considering Presley was in the process of pulling up a chair right next to her, but Aaron didn't seem to be miffed.

"Great!" He replies jovially, finally sitting down between Pres and I. Pres smiles at my mom.

"Actually, Mrs. Winston, Aaron and I were wondering if we could use your car to go to the cinema tomorrow evening?" Presley asks, her responsible voice kicking in. I can't imagine that they'd actually use that car to get to the cinema.

I excuse myself and toss my plate before my mom can answer, signaling to Pres that I'd meet her in my room.

About 10 chapters, or an hour later, Presley finally crashes into my room, all aflutter.

"Hey, can I sleep with Aaron tonight? I haven't really slept with him in a month!" She asks, trying to build a case. In truth, she snuck off to his room only a few nights ago. I could hear them talking and laughing and that noise eventually dissolving into soft moans.

"Come on, Pres, girls night, remember?" I try to convince her, but her fallen smile grips at my heart. "Fine," I roll my eyes. She squeals and gives me a kiss on the cheek before running off to tell Aaron the good news.

The skin that she kissed buzzes with a strange sort of feeling, and I reach my hand up to touch the spot to cool it down. I smile sadly. I miss Presley.

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