"So, you asked for my story. I know I kind of flipped out – but what about you? What's your story?" Leila asks me. I decided to come tonight, and when I did an almost relieved look was on Leila's face; as if she thought I had fallen off the face of the Earth or something.
I sigh. "My story?" I gulp.
Ellie was my story. She was all of stories I had to tell, because she was the only thing I liked about my life. Ellie was my best friend, she was who I thought was my soul mate two years ago. Yet again – I was wrong about that girl. I can never get it right with any girl.
"Yeah," she softly answers, looking at me with interest and a glow in her perfect blue eyes. I never realised just how beautiful her eyes and her eyelashes were. She had the thickest lashes. Each time she blinked, her eyelashes covering the small bags under her eyes, you could see just how blessed and gorgeous Leila was. But what shone through more was how much she didn't realise it. Which was the saddest.
"There's not much to know about me... I play football for the county; if that interests you. Actually – I'm wearing my jersey." I whip off my hoodie, accidently exposing the toned chest dad made me work for with a personal trainer. I wasn't obese or unfit, but my dad sees the world in such a different way to anyone else.
Leila traces the number 8 that was printed in white on the back with her long fingers, her long nails painted with a shiny black that suited her perfectly. Leila seemed to only wear either black or white. "Cavanaugh?" she reads aloud.
"My surname."
"As in... Cavanaugh Airlines?" she verifies. I sigh, reluctantly nodding. I take my hoodie back from the grassy ground and slip it over my head again.
"Wow." she deadpans. "So, you're loaded?"
I shudder at the term. "I don't like to say that, but I suppose."
"That must suck." she tells me. At first I thought she was being sarcastic, but she didn't let out a small smile or a giggle after like usual.
"Why?"
"Because I bet you get used a lot. Is that why you said you don't have any luck with love?"
I look at Leila beside me. There's another person to add to the list of now most likely staying for my money. "Maybe."
"You know I'm right," she teases, smiling. "but then again – being rich can't be all bad. Maid, butler, - even if you're being used, you must string a lot of girls..."
"Just shush!" I flip. "All of my life I've been trying to get away from- from this. The questions, the desire to buy out my share, everything. And you were the one person who I thought maybe; just maybe, didn't care about how much money I had in the bank, or who my family was."
Leila looks stunned, her mouth, which was covered in a plum lipstick, forming an 'o'. "Chase, it was just a topic. I don't like you for your money. Heck – I didn't know until two minutes ago. Trust me when I tell you that I don't like you any more or any less than I did ten minutes ago. Okay?"
I get up, frustrated and annoyed. Why does my past, or my background – influence my friendships? This world is just screwed. "This always happens, Leila. I'm used to losing people because of this. The thing is, why does it always impact friendships a-and relationships? Our friendship?"
"It doesn't!" Leila shouts at me, standing up in front of me now. "This affects nothing! It's you pushing everyone else away, Chase. Yes, some people might use use for fancy dinners or designer clothing; but not the people like me! From the bad experiences, you think everyone is the same – but not everyone is out to get you, Chase. Monsters are only real if you believe in them."
Monsters are only real if you believe in them.
The words rang in my eyes like sirens as I walked down the hill away from Leila. I was dizzy but I just kept pushing myself to the car. Just keep going. Just walk away, Chase.
And boy, I did.
n