Arabelle's POV
"I swear Arabelle, if I could literally live in a pizza house, I fucking would," Lily moans happily, patting her stomach, which somehow remains flat despite the entire pizza that was stuffed inside. I roll my eyes with a chuckle as I pull up in front of her house.
"See you tomorrow?" I ask, moving past her pizza house chatter. Lily nods with a wide grin.
"Definitely. I can't wait to check out that new club, it's gonna be awesome. Plus I'm so psyched that you're letting your giiiirlfriend come with us," she teases with a grin. I smile back tentatively.
"Yeah... it'll be great."
Sensing my unease, Lily glares at me. "You need to stop worrying. She'll be fine at the club, she can't be that innocent."
I fidget uncertainly. "I know, but still... I'm not sure if she knows what she's getting into."
Lily sighs, rolling her eyes at me. "You worry too much, Bell. Everything is going to be fine. See you later, okay?"
"Alright, alright. See you later," I sigh. Leaning over, she plants a peck on my cheek before jumping out of the car. I don't flinch when her lips touch my skin, having adjusted long ago to affection from specifically her.
Lily is right, I really shouldn't worry so much. Marissa isn't some defenseless toddler, she's just as old as I am. I'm sure that she'll handle herself fine.
Of course, maybe that's not the only reason I'm nervous. Maybe I'm nervous that she'll see me in a different light at the club.
I drive the four blocks it takes to go from Lily's house to mine, and park my car. Entering the front door, I immediately head upstairs to my room.
"Arabelle? Is that you?" I hear my dad call from the living room. I roll my eyes, pausing on the stairs.
"Nah, it's a blood thirsty serial killer searching for a place to store my dead body collection. Wanna help me look?" I call back sarcastically. I hear footsteps approaching me before my dad appears before me, a frown set on his face. He leans against the wall next to the base of the staircase, crossing his arms over his chest. Uh oh.
"We need to talk, Arabelle."
"Oh come on, you used to love sarcasm. What happened to the dad that could take a joke?" His jaw tenses at my words.
"I guess he left the same day the daughter who didn't hide alcohol in her room did," he says tightly. My eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing in anger.
"You were looking through my stuff?" I demand.
"Yes, I was, obviously with good reason." The disappointment in his eyes makes my stomach churn, filling me with a familiar sense of emptiness. "Explain yourself, Arabelle," he demands. I look down, knowing that I can't give him a proper answer without pouring my heart out to him. And I can't do that with breaking his heart on a whole different level. Is my shitty past going to hurt my relationships with people throughout my whole life? Is it always going to drag me down, ruin me? Why do I give it this power over me?
I suddenly feel exhausted, and all I want to do is go upstairs and sleep.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I reply quietly. Seeing the change in me, my dad's expression softens slightly.
"Arabelle, you can't just say 'I'm sorry' to something like this. Your behavior is worrying us honey... we're scared. Whatever you're going through, you can't cope with it by holing yourself up in your room and drinking away your problems," he says emotionally. "You know that you can tell us anything, right?" I fall silent at his words, staring blankly at the wall behind him. The emptiness was spreading through me, and I couldn't find the energy to reply. Everything fades away and I become a spectator in my own body, detached from my emotions; a fairly common automatic response that happens in my head when I'm in an emotionally difficult situation. He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. "I think we need to have a talk, Arabelle. The three of us. Can you promise me that we'll sit down and have a talk as a family on Sunday?" he pleads.
I muster up my energy enough to send him an indifferent shrug before turning around and walking the rest of the way up the stairs to my room, where I shut the door and lean against the frame. Massaging my temples, I try to ignore the guilt pounding inside my head. What's wrong with me? Why am I always so much trouble? I briefly consider telling them everything, but the idea leaves as quickly as it came. I need to deal with this alone, like I have been for years. What's the point now, anyway? It's all over. Old news, nothing fixable. What good would it do?
I slide to the floor in front of my door, leaning my forehead against my knees, trying to somehow urge my mind to regain feeling. My phone startles me as it starts buzzing in my pocket. Tugging it out of my jeans tiredly, I flip it open to find Marissa's number flashing on my screen. I feel something stir inside of me as I press the answer button.
"Hey Arabelle! I was wondering if you had any ideas on what I should wear? I was looking through my closet, but nothing seems like it would fit in at a club. And then I remembered that I never even asked you what kind of club we're going to, and now I'm just super confused," she worries. I smile lightly, pleasantly surprised when feelings begin to swim back into my body, chasing away the emptiness.
"It's okay, there will be a lot of different styles there, you really can wear anything you want. If you want to blend in though, I suggest with sticking to dark colors," I explain. I hear the sound of hangers clicking together for a couple seconds.
"Okay, I think I found something acceptable. It's pretty boring, but it'll do I guess. Thanks for helping out."
"No problem, See you at 8," I reply before snapping my phone shut.
Huh, I should probably pick out what I want to wear tonight too. Shifting through my clothes lazily, I decide on a pair of blood red leather skinny pants with zippers all over, black doc martin boots, and a simple cotton black v-neck tank top. Throwing the clothes onto the black beanbag in the corner of my room, I leap onto my bed and curl up on my side. God, I feel so fucking drained... I need a nap.
* * *
"ARABELLE! I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR PERFECT ASS OFF OF YOUR BED WITHIN THE NEXT 5 SECONDS, I'LL RIP YOUR TOES OFF!"
I jolt upright in my bed with a screech of shock, falling off the edge in the process and landing on my back. Standing above me is a smirking Lily, a chuckling Marissa, and an uncomfortable Charlotte.
"God dammit Lily, I fucking hate you," I mumble sleepily, rubbing my back as I stood up.
"Puh-lease, you love me and you know it. Now hurry up and get dressed, we're all ready to go," Lily replies excitedly. Looking the three of them over, I realize that they're all dressed and ready to go. Charlotte is wearing a deep cut v-neck tee-shirt with a pair of black pumps and light wash jeans that complemented her figure, Lily is wearing combat boots with ripped back tights, a black tutu-skirt, and a dark red corset, and Marissa...
Marissa is wearing a black beanie and a form-fitting dark purple tank top, jeans look like they were made for her, and a black choker. The jeans had rips in them that went pretty high up, giving a glimpse of her perfect legs through the strands. My imagination runs wild as I imagine sneaking my fingers past those threads, feeling her soft skin, climbing higher...
I tear my eyes away from her quickly, feeling like a pervert and hoping that no one noticed my momentary loss of self-composition. I stumble forward, picking up my clothes off of my bean back chair.
"Erm, right, sorry... I'll just get changed then," I mutter before scurrying into my bathroom. I shut the door quickly, leaning against the cold sink. How am I supposed to control myself around her when she looks like that?
I have to stop thinking about her like this. It's been proven time and time again that it's a mistake to fall for a straight girl. Even if Marissa is bi, she wouldn't go for someone me. It would probably be someone sweet, someone caring and beautiful, like her.
I scowl in the mirror as I imagine her falling for a different girl, more peeved by the thought of it than I should be. If I could force myself to stop having these... feelings for her, I would. Getting attached to someone makes you weak, it makes you vulnerable. I can't handle that.
Sliding into my outfit, I make up my mind. I have to get over Marissa before I fall too deep for her, one way or another. Starting tonight. No more ridiculous thoughts about her, only platonic friendly thoughts. Grabbing a rubber band out of my drawer, I put it on my wrist before leaving the bathroom. I'm going to break this habit the old fashioned way.
Marissa's POV
As Charlotte, Lily and I wait for Arabelle to finish getting dressed, I couldn't get the look Arabelle had in her eyes when she saw my outfit out of my head. It was brief, but it was there, momentarily breaking her usual stony sarcastic demeanor.
Lust.
My heart is still beating faster than normal from the interaction. It should probably make me uncomfortable, since I don't like girls that way, but it just... doesn't. It feels different with Arabelle, and I kind of feel happy about how she looked at me. Maybe I'm not as sure of my sexuality as I thought. Maybe Arabelle can help me figure that out.
I look up to peer around Arabelle's room again. Everything totally screams her personality, what with the dark colors and the multiple pictures painted directly on her walls all over. I didn't know that she was so good at art. These paintings really are mesmerizing.
Standing up, I walk over to one of the larger ones. It's about 2 ft by 2 ft. In the background, a storm is brewing in the distance, purplish gray clouds swarming in the sky. A single delicate flower stands in the foreground in a vast field of dead grass, a dark red color. In the center of the flower it is a large tear, and a thin pale arm is coming out, grasping the air desperately as if trying to pull itself out. It's eery and kind of dark, but in an interesting way. I brush the painted petals gently with my finger tips, trying to absorb it into my memory so I can think about it more later.
I see a sudden rush of movement before Lily appears next to me, leaning against the wall next to me. I stare at her in confusion. Oh, wait! I'm probably not supposed to touch the pictures.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to touch it, I just-"
"No no, it's okay, I just felt like leaning," Lily dismisses. My confusion returns as I take in her stance, as if she's trying to hide one of the pictures from me.
"Uhm... alright?" I reply hesitantly.
"Well, I think this room is a perfect portrayal of Arabelle," Charlotte scoffs out of no where. "Just look at all these demented paintings," she says, eyeing a painting of a tree with knives and eyeballs growing from it. I roll my eyes.
"Well, I don't think they're messed up, I think they're creative. It would be boring if all she painted was pictures of fruit of something," I point out. Charlotte rolls her eyes while Lily smiles and nods in agreement. She seems pleased with my assessment.
The door opens, and Arabelle steps out of the bathroom. I force myself not to let my jaw drop to the ground as I take in the sight of her.
She's wearing black combat boots, a black v-neck tank top, and these tight dark red leather pants with zippers all over them. There's really only one way to describe how she looks, and that's-
"DAMN girl you look sexy!" I hear Lily interrupt my thought process, eyeing her outfit with a smirk. "Jessssus, if you didn't stop me every time I've tried, I would totally bang you," she whines, still leaning on the hidden painting. Arabelle rolls her eyes while Charlotte wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"Lily, that doesn't seem like a very polite thing to say to Jesus. I think you owe him an apology," Arabelle drawls. Lily pouts and starts to reply.
"Are we going yet?" Charlotte butts in impatiently.
"Yeah, sure, let's go," agrees Arabelle. I follow her and Charlotte out of her bedroom with Lily behind me. I turn around at the last second, trying to catch a glimpse of the the painting that Lily was trying to hide earlier. Before I could see it, Lily switches the lights off behind us and smiles at me cheekily.