*New chapter, added 11/10/2019*
It was late afternoon, almost evening. But to be honest, I never quite knew when the afternoon ended, and the evening began. The white drapes by the window billowed in the breeze. I popped a fake cigarette between my lips.
Naomi lay on my bed in a white dress with a rather large cut in the back that showed off her ivory skin. Too much skin if you asked me. I wanted to touch it, let my fingers linger on the gentle dip of her back. But that would be weird, wouldn't it? As her female friend, I wasn't allowed to touch her that intimately, was I?
My eyes surveyed the rest of her body; slender straps adorned with flowers curved around her shoulders. Her auburn hair rested in a neat plait on her back.
Compared to her, I looked like a news reporter dressed in a white dress shirt, tapered pants, and suspenders. I sat on the edge of my dresser, pretending to smoke. Golden rays from the sun leaked through the window and warmed her body.
She said, "Why are you coming to this thing anyway? You hate dances and parties. Actually, you hate anything that requires you to be social."
She looked at me with those dark, brooding eyes she had acquired with age-eyes filled with suspicion. And perhaps, she had reasons to suspect my intentions because I was by all intents, a devious person.
I told her, "I like soccer. Soccer is pretty social."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you guys get so much talking done during games. Hooraw for soccer. Hey, pass the ball. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot!"
I chuckled and went over to the bed. I lay on the comforter next to her, rested my leg atop hers. She moved her head over and rested it on my chest. My heart was ready to burst out its gate and start racing, but I imagined being splashed with a bucket of cold water, and suddenly those feelings quieted.
Her hair brushed my chin as she raised her head. She held her phone in front of her, texting someone. She said, "You're as flat as a board."
I said, "Because you always squash them?"
"Babe, they were never there to begin with."
"Damn. I felt that one."
She laughed and said, "You're going to be mistaken as a guy again. That's my father's clothes, you know? Are you sure you don't want to wear a dress?"
"With this handsome figure of mine? I would look like a man in a dress."
She chuckled. "Yeah, sort of."
"See? You do wonders to my self-esteem."
"When did it become a crime to agree with someone?" she asked, taking the mock cigarette from between my fingers and putting it into her mouth.
Her eyes sparkled as she pretended to blow out a cloud of smoke.
My chest tightened with desire and regret. I didn't want to feel this way about her.
The club was packed with sweaty teens. It was like walking into a closet with no windows or any source of natural illumination. Colorful circles of light splashed the wall and cut through the crowd. In a sense, we were all crazy enough to be trapped in a poorly lit metal container. Some skimpily dressed girl, mistaking me for a guy, tried to grind against me. She whispered, the scent of alcohol on her breath, "You're hot."
"Sure," I said, pushing her away with a gentle hand.
She got the message and walked away, slurring, "Whach a dick."
Lost to the control of the spirits she had consumed, she danced like a possessed demon. I frowned and picked my way through the herd towards the bar counter.
Sweat trickled down my skin; I had willingly put myself in an oven. The room felt like it was a thousand degrees. I despised going to these things.
A tall, Italian man named Romeo worked the bar. His black hair was stiff with gel. He looked chill, laid-back, or half-asleep, it was hard to tell in the poor light.
He walked over to me. "Some hot girls here tonight, huh?"
I put my elbow on the counter, balanced my chin on my fist, completely disinterested. "Yeah."
"A bit under the weather, huh? I can get you something good to cheer you up."
"I don't drink."
"Really? Don't people die after three days or something if you go without water for that long?"
I smiled. "I don't drink alcohol."
His eyes squinted, a playful smile on his lips. "Alright. I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you a girl or a boy?"
"He's a girl." Someone threw their arm over my shoulder.
I looked up to see Naomi. Her face had beautiful features that complemented its shape. Her cheeks were pinkish. Her hair was wild, framing her head like a reddish halo. I could feel her sweat mixing with mine on the back of my neck. She said, "By the way, this is Hunter."
She motioned to a guy on the right. I knew of him, but we had never spoken to each other, or gotten together for any event. He played football for our team. He had a nice bod, well-developed muscles; sweat glistened on his dark brown skin. His arm wrapped around her waist as if to tell everyone that she belonged to him. His dark eyes watched mine with faint curiosity.
I turned to the bartender. "Coke, please."
"Alright." He got me a can of coke from the fridge and slid it my way.
I cracked it open. The loud music pounded against my eardrums; I grew more and more annoyed.
Hunter leaned against the counter, studying me curiously. "Your sister is Juliana, right? The two of you are twins?"
"I am aware of a twin sister whose name is Juliana, yes," I said dryly.
"Oh, cool. Are your eyes naturally that color? Goldish?"
"Yes."
"Oh, alright, I always thought they were contacts. Well, do you want to ask me anything?"
I looked him up and down, then turned back to my coke. "Nope."
He glanced at Naomi anxiously.
Naomi pinched my side and whispered into my ear, "Remember how we talked about being nice?"
"Well, gee, Naomi, it's not like I have my foot down his throat. I'm plenty nice. I'm all, 'Good day. How do you do?' All the niceties and none of the menace."
Her facial expression cooled. She said, "You know what, Val? Fuck you. Can't you just be happy for me?"
I took a sip of my drink. "Happy for you? Yeah, sure. I'm happy." I held up my can. "To new beginnings and boys, yeah? A boy for every girl. Wow, so wonderful. You know what?" I told Hunter, taking his hand in mine. "Three months from now she won't even remember your name. You'll be boyfriend number... what was it?" I pretended to count my fingers.
Hunter's expression darkened.
Naomi sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have brought you. You always do shit like this. I'll see you tomorrow, dumbass." She slapped the back of my head, took Hunter's hand, and pulled him away from me. He watched me over his shoulder, a quizzical expression on his face.
It wouldn't last for three months, but what if it did? What if she actually fell in love with that guy?
What would that mean for me?
For us?
The soda tasted bitter on my tongue.
Love, romance, all that stuff was a freaking waste of time. All it did was cause us unnecessary pain. Do you want to know my honest opinion? We are all better off without it.