Tuesday. Officially voted the worst day of the week. It was far enough away from the previous weekend and not close enough to the next. Violet and I had a debate once on which day of the week was the most dreadful. We were going to choose Monday like anyone else would but we ruled it out since we usually got enough sleep and never had homework those nights. Tuesday was where the pain lied. And Tuesday just happened to be today.
"Are you doing anything after school today?" I asked Violet, bumping into her shoulder as we walked down the hallway.
"Yeah it's Lucky's mom's birthday and they invited me to have dinner with them. Why?" She talked while she adjusted the binder in her arms.
"No reason. I just wasn't doing anything and I wanted to see if you could hang out. It's been a while since we've had just a little Violet and Luna time," I explained, watching the floor to make sure I didn't step on the blue tiles.
"I hear ya punk. We can this weekend. Promise," She smiled brightly at me.
"I'm holding you to that. I'll see you later, have fun in APUSH," I teased as we parted ways.
"My efforts for this test I'm about to take will be Henry Clay running for prez two point oh," Violet said as she opened the door.
I laughed, "A tragic failure?"
She nodded. I laughed again. Violet and her lame history jokes. She probably wouldn't fail anyway. She was a smart kid; we both were. Contrary to the popular belief that we were idiots. Which was also kinda true. Smart idiots.
I sat through my excruciatingly boring AP Language and Composition class. We turned in our papers at the start of class and as unorganized as our teacher was, we had nothing to do since our next unit wasn't prepared yet. Out of all my advanced classes I could safely say that this one was a complete joke. I loved English and the English language itself fascinated me, but this class sucked everything even remotely entertaining or even worth learning out of English. So by the time the bell rang I had almost filled up five pages, back to back with doodles. Typical.
After taking notes on biomes and other shit I already know in Environmental Science, I made my way towards the art room. Louis caught up to me in the hallway a few minutes after I started walking.
"Luna I've to show you what I've been workin' on once we get downstairs," He told me with a excited sparkle in his eyes.
"Swag," I replied quickly.
"Did you just sa-"
My eyes widened, "God no I- sorry. This dumb guy that just passed me said it and I guess I wasn't thinking and honestly I don't even know but I hope that never happens again," I rushed as my cheeks started to turn red.
Louis laughed, "Good. That was weird coming from your mouth."
"It was weird saying it," I shook my head.
Louis opened the door for me before he rushed over to the supply closet. Oh swag, good one Luna, Louis must be so impressed by your vast vernacular, I thought to myself. I set my stuff down at my usual table (free of Zain currently) and watched him as he carried an easel and canvas, which he set up in front of me. I looked over the mixture of roughly drawn pencil lines and the beginnings of depth made possible by Louis' ridiculous ability to match paint colors exactly. The unfinished mini mural that spanned before me was a painting of all of us. Louis, Monte, Violet, Lucky, Liam, Sienna, and I. I didn't notice that my hands were covering my mouth in awe before I tried to talk through my fingers.
"Louis I love it so much! This is so- it just... captures us perfectly, like spot on. And not just like the quality of your painting but like- it's almost like you painted with our personalities instead of acrylics," I couldn't stop staring at Louis' work in progress.
"Thanks Luna," He smiled softly as he inspected his own work, "it's not finished yet but when it is we should put it where we can all enjoy it."
"I like that idea," I smiled up at him before returning my gaze to his painting. He was so incredibly talented.
"I'd better get started," Louis stated the longer he looked over his own work.
I laughed a little, "Get to it then."
I watched him set up his easel over by Monte. I didn't blame him. Monte was a better painter than I was by far. I took my sketchbook out of my black fringe purse and rested my chin on my hand trying to think of something to draw. I wasn't entirely in the creative mood just then and I knew if I drew anything without my whole heart in it, the drawing would be shit. My eyes were glued to the page that reflected my blank stare for a few more minutes before someone broke my concentration. I looked up to see Zain sitting across fr-
"Oh my good dear holy Jesus," The pencil I was holding in my hand dropped without me noticing.
Zain's smirk faltered a little as he looked over at me, "What?"
I tried to regain my composure but honestly I couldn't stop gawking, "Your hair... or um lack of."
"A deal's a deal. Lemme see your nails," He said, not really meeting my gaze.
I held up my black nails for him to see, finally tearing my eyes away from his hair. He nodded in approval and his hand reached up to his head to adjust his new style. His long hair had been buzzed down on both sides of his head and the remaining section of hair down the middle of his head was tied up in a sort of bun. It wasn't that the haircut looked completely awful. It was actually the direct opposite, which was why I couldn't stop staring. It took me by surprise, how he was able to pull it off so effortlessly, almost like it was made for him. Even I had to admit that it was attractive. I mean Zain wasn't exactly ever not before but he was even more so now. I could tell I was blushing again. And by the look on Zain's face, he could too.
"You look so Zain," I managed.
He gave me a weird look, "I assume that's a good thing?" he questioned.
I ignored his prompt to get me to compliment him, "You know who you kind of remind me of now with that haircut?"
"Who?" He asked with an amused expression.
"Sokka from The Last Airbender show that used to be on Nickelodeon," I stated, proud of my comparison.
Zain's smirk was wiped from his face, "Oh my god."
I started laughing. Although I'd never tell him that Sokka was the character I had developed an extremely unhealthy crush on as a child. Never.
"That's a compliment!" I defended, "As close to one as you're going to get so take it or leave it," I grinned once I stopped laughing.
"Luna you take the sick factor out of everything with your nerdiness," He said, slightly irritated. I guess he assumed I was teasing him or something. If only he could read my mind. Which I was so glad he couldn't.
I snorted, "Sick factor? What the hell is that?"
"Someone of your utmost nerd level does not deserve to know," Zain replied childishly.
I pushed out my bottom lip dramatically, "Is Zainy gwumpy?"
"Shut up Luna," He groaned. No matter how completely punk and edgy Zain was, he was still a teenage boy and I was rather enjoying how I was deflating his 'badass' balloon.
I laughed, "I'm just kidding."
He looked up at me with his chin rested in his folded arms on the table.
"You look very pretty with that bun," I bit my lip.
He groaned louder this time before hiding his face in his arms and I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at his reaction. He was finally getting a taste of his own annoying medicine. I was in the middle of sticking my pencil in his bun when the bell rang abruptly, causing me to drop it again. Zain smiled smugly as he gathered his things and stuck his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes. I shoved my sketchbook into my purse and hurried out of the door to follow behind Zain. I was almost close enough to stick the pencil in when he turned around and started walking backwards.
"Luna do you not see that I literally have eyes on the back of me?" He shook his head and continued to walk backwards.
I tried to fight my smile as I looked over his red crew neck with eyes patterned all over it like polka dots.
"You know I'm actually surprised that you haven't insulted me once today. I could get used to nice Zain," I adjusted my purse as I walked in front of him.
"So you don't find nerd insulting?" He asked.
"Not really. I enjoy my intelligence. But I also know for a fact that I'm not the only one with a super hero lunch box," I smirked.
He stopped walking and I nearly bumped into him, "How did you know about my Batman lunch box?"
"My Spider-man lunch box told me," I grinned cheesily at him and walked past him out of the school doors.
"I'm not even going to tell you about my comic book colle- shit," and I just laughed as I walked to my car.
I didn't realize there was a ridiculous grin on my face until I was already halfway home. What the fuck? I was not seriously smiling because of Zain. Never would I have guessed that we would become friends from the first time I met him. Were we even really friends? I groaned and turned the radio up. We were and I knew it. I was friends with the annoying-sweaty-moronic-asswagonish-goth-monkey-face-boy and I honestly, seriously, completely did not know how I felt about that.
When I pulled up to my obnoxiously large house- that sadly resembled The White House- Lovely Day had just finished playing and I was pumped up with no plans or anywhere to go tonight. Normally I'd be at work but they occasionally gave me days off simply because no one had shown up all day. Thank you Alt-J for making me restless. And I couldn't even blame that on them because I'm pretty sure it was because of someone else.
I walked inside purposely clumping my boots against the flawlessly shiny black marble floor. I couldn't help but roll my eyes every time I walked into my own house. The ridiculous flooring, the unnecessarily big chandelier along with the equally as large staircase that drew your attention automatically. It was too much all of the time. I hated being rich. And I hated that term even more. But I guess financially inclined didn't make it sound any better.
Making no effort to hide my disgust I wandered into our catalog-like kitchen and looked for something to eat. Shoving slices of oranges into my mouth, I slumped into one of the grand chairs at our sparkling glass table that stretched vertically in our dining room area. There was only one lonely half full coffee mug sitting on the table, along with a magazine and I didn't even think twice about it. My mom was probably running about doing who knows what and my father was always at work. He was literally never home. Sometimes I forgot what he looked like. My mom on the other hand, I wish I could forget what she looked like.
I sat there just chewing on my orange and hating everything about everything. My stupidly huge house, my fake mom, my absent father, even my expensive car that I learned to love since it ran on gas that I earned money and paid for. I was always bitter and I don't think that would ever change. Not since-
I bit my lip. I wouldn't think about that right now. Though there was hardly ever a moment it wasn't on my mind.
Picking up the orange peel in my hands, I dumped them into our compost bin that I had insisted on getting because again- I was kind of a tree hugger. The sound of my boots echoed in my empty house as I made my way up the grand spiraling staircase to my room. If Zain ever saw where I lived I could only imagine the things he would say. Violet used to try and get me to throw parties here but she has long grown out of that. Not that my mom wouldn't agree, she encouraged it. She'd probably pop open a few bottles of champagne even.
I set my purse down on my white dresser beside my door and sighed. If I had to enjoy any part of this over-sized house, it would be my room. It was designed to my standards and completely untouched by color. Well besides my ice blue phonograph but that was because Violet had given it to me. Almost everything was white, down to the walls and carpet. My dresser which held my jewelry, the few records I owned and my phonograph. My large queen sized bed with the plush white comforter and pillows. The white nightstand beside my bed that had a black lamp sitting on top of it with little stars punched out of shade (Violet's clever idea). The large white bathtub and luxurious shower in my bathroom that connected to my bedroom. My huge walk-in closet organized from white to black clothing with my shoes neatly positioned in my white cubby holes next to the white dresser full of socks and my pajamas. My collection of art supplies in the extra space of my closet had no trace of color. Even the two carefully pinned photographs of Matt Healy touching my hand at the concert and the one of Violet and I were printed in a grey scale.
Color just wasn't my thing, at least not anymore.
I opted out of changing the grey t-shirt dress I wore today, due to my darkened mood and sat on the white window ledge to look out at my basically Château de Versailles backyard through my window that nearly touched the ceiling. I knew I should be thankful for the easy life I live and all of the stuff I had- that guilty thought was always present. But no amount of material items could've replaced this emptiness inside of me. It didn't help that my mom tried to buy my happiness and my father was never here to be of any real comfort. I needed love and I got that from my friends. Especially Violet. She helped me so much through what happened. I never liked being left alone, for fear that these thoughts would consume me again and I'd fall back into the same pattern. Alone was what I tried to avoid at school and at work and with any of the free time I had. But alone was all I ever seemed to be here.
From Sokka bunhead: I still can't believe you called me pretty
I felt my heart lift at the easy smile that spread across my lips.
To Sokka bunhead: I can't believe ur still on that
And so out of pure desperation to not be lonely and since my first choice of companionship was out eating dinner with her boyfriend's family, I got into Ciara and drove.
After making my way back to the restaurant Monte, Lucky, Violet and I ate at after the 1975 concert, I drove around the streets, trying to retrace my steps. The only issue about finding where Zain had claimed an old brick wall as his own, was that it had been dark when I found him there and I had no idea how to get back. Nearly twenty minutes had passed before I finally spotted Zain's red crewneck and bun tucked into the dirty alleyway, surrounded by spray paint cans. I parallel parked as close as I could since there were other cars taking up the empty space. I got out and started walking over to him.
Before I could sneak a peak at his spray painting he stepped out onto the sidewalk, blocking me and sticking a black spray paint can in front of my face.
"And jist what do you think you're doin'?" He asked with his mouth covered by a hospital mask.
"I came to see you of course," I said sweetly and poked his shoulder.
"Cut the bullshit Luna I know you're here because you wanted to see my paintin'," His eyelids lowered, giving me a look like I was the most predictable person in the world.
"So what I-"
"C'mon. Get in the car, we're leaving," Zain cut me off and turned me around, pushing me in the direction that Ciara was parked.
"We?" I sassed.
"Yes we since you so obviously came here just to see me," His sarcasm was easily heard even without seeing his expression.
I rolled my eyes but listened to him anyway. I got into Ciara and put in my mix CD while I waited for Zain to clean up. After a few minutes he knocked on the passenger side window. I rolled it down to hear him ask if I could pop my trunk so that he could put his bag of spray cans in the back. When he slammed the passenger door shut I was instantly overwhelmed with the smell of smoke, chemicals and a faint hint of cologne.
"There is only one rule while riding Ciara-"
"Riding Ciara?"
"In. Shut up."
He smirked.
"That rule is that you are hella not gonna be smoking in here. Got it?" I pointed my finger in his face.
He pushed my finger down, "Fine."
"Good. Now where are we going?" I asked, putting on my seat belt.
"Anywhere. Nowhere," Zain replied cryptically.
"That doesn't-"
"Drive to your house. I wanna see where you live," He interrupted.
I shot him a look, "No."
He smirked again, knowing that was going to be my response, "So just drive."
I sighed and listened to him again, turning up the volume a little as I pulled away from the curb.
I heard Zain laugh a little from beside me, "What?" I asked.
"Nothing it's just... this song," He replied.
I tried not to smile or roll my eyes.
"I mean really like- Fly Me to the Moon?" He continued and I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Violet made me this CD," I said defeated, knowing exactly how hilarious he thought it was.
He didn't say anything more as the song went on, but I could see his stupid little dance moves out of the corner of my eye.
"Oh this song is perfect," Zain commented as Put Your Records On played next.
I really tried not to smile or roll my eyes.
"It was like made for you," He laughed to himself.
I was about to say something back but stopped when he started to sing along. And holy shit I was not expecting a voice like that to come out of him. I swerved when I almost ran into a palm tree.
"Fuck Luna! Eyes on the road! Keep to your lane!" He yelled.
I cringed, "Fuck! I'm sorry!"
We drove in silence until the next song came on.
"This one just screams Luna," Zain said, "like seriously 'I paint my nails black.' That's one hundred percent you."
I really really tried not to smile or roll my eyes.
"What's it called?" He asked after listened to a little more of it.
"Black Beauty," I mumbled.
He laughed, "Perfect. It's even dark and brooding like your soul," He joked.
"Why did I come see you again?" I teased.
He smirked and looked over at me before returning his gaze to the road, "I actually sort of like Lana Del Rey."
The song ended and One For the Road started to play.
"Oh god tell me you don't listen to this shit," Zain complained.
I gripped the steering wheel, "I know you didn't just call Arctic Monkeys shit."
"Come on Luna. Their music is just a bunch of noise made to sound like rock or whatever and the sliding of that lead singer's voice just hurts my ears."
"Get out of my car."
Instead of doing what he knew was good for him, he skipped the song. I would've punched him if the next song wasn't one of my favorites.
Zain sighed dramatically, "Is this your band that you went and saw?"
"Yes and if you dare call them shit I swear I'm ejecting you. I'll even speed up just to make the fall that much worse," I threatened.
He didn't laugh like I had expected him to.
"What's it called?" He asked quietly in contrast to how loud he was being just a few minutes ago.
I tried to adjust to his sudden mood shift, "fallingforyou."
He was silent after that and that alone was enough to keep me from saying anything more. I watched as the winding road in front of me glowed a slight orange color as the sun began to lower itself from the sky. I thought to myself, how strange it was, that such a magnificent happening- such as a sunset- could be completely silent. Like how that poem described the sun dying every night so that the moon could breathe. But I think falling just fit so much better. The sun falling for the moon. I stole a glance over at Zain who still hadn't uttered a word. His golden eyes reflected the sun's fiery light almost exactly. And I thought what better way to describe Zain? He was the sun. So when Matt Healy sang I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck it was hardly impossible to dream of the sun's kiss against my skin, even though I knew my delicate complexion would burn under it's heat.