Teasing Fate |The Outsiders|

25. Eros

"THIS GIRL HAS LAID A CURSE ON ME." - Lord Huron (Cursed)

***

Speaking from experience, throwing rocks at windows never blows over very well. Especially never on this side of town. When I hear the light clink bounce off my window as I tuck my cigarette between my teeth, I'm tempted to just shut off the lights and give Curly shit for it in the morning. I mean, really, what does he think he's doing? Sure, our parents are high as fucking kites in the living room, but he has school tomorrow. Yeah yeah, call me a fucking hypocrite, but I'm not the one damn near flunking outta the sixth fucking grade. By the time the second pebble hits the glass, I've pushed the shit covering the table we used as a desk aside and kneel on it. The third rock bounces to the ground when I pull back the curtain and squint into the night.

There's someone standing on my lawn, chucking rocks she'd collected off the road. I slide the window open as quickly as I can while my smoke threatens to fall from my lips and onto the ground twelve feet below me. I'm already cold just leaning out the window, so I can only imagine how she feels. "The fuck are you doin' here, Marley?" I shout. Even with my parents downstairs and the television blaring, they're too out of it to notice me having a conversation. It's been about ten years since either of them came to check on me, too. Down below on my dying grass, Marley swipes the back of her sleeve across her face before letting her hands go limp. I watch the silhouettes of a dozen more tiny rocks land on the grass before she raises her gaze back to me. It's dark, and I can barely see her, but the light from my room catches in her eyes.

Soft and yellow, it mixes with the grey in her eyes as the shadows move across her face. "You've shown up at my place enough times looking like hell," she calls back, "figure it's about time I return the favour."

***

Marley stood in the middle of my bedroom, stiff as a board. I, on the other hand, was frantically kicking Curly's playboys and clothes under our beds. It ain't like I read 'em, but I wasn't expecting company tonight. Definitely not hers, either. The last cover is probably the skimpiest, with an eighteen-year-old model front and center, pushing her chest so far forwards that I'm sure it'll pop right outta her bikini top. I turn on my heel to send the worn, mangled, and probably offensive magazine under Curly's bed when Marley suddenly leans down and picks it up. I'd already left her outside for two extra minutes after she showed up to try and at least pretend I didn't share my bedroom with a twelve-year-old, but I clearly missed a couple of things.

Her hair is messy and windblown, but in the kinda way that looks good on her. Or maybe she just has the kinda face that can pull it off, y'know? It curls around her face and manages to hide the blush across her nose and cheeks pretty well. The grey is more prominent than the green in her eyes as they dart down to the porno in her hands. "Curly gots this from Dally, didn't he?" She scoffs. I shrug and take it from her while blowing a puff of smoke to my right. I toss it back onto Curly's bed carelessly, but it manages to slide right across the mattress and into the crevice between his bed and the wall. "He sure as shit didn't get it from me," I say like it's something to be proud of. Marley can probably see right through me. After growing up surrounded by guys, she probably knows I'm lying. Still, I pull the cigarette out of my mouth and pretend I've never seen it before.

"Once Dally realized I had boobs, he shoved that cover in my face and asked if that's what mine looked like," Marley says causally. I'm glad I don't have the cig in my mouth right now, otherwise, I woulda choked. She just shrugs again, like it's a simple question. Coming from Dally though, I guess it is the nicest way he could've asked. Marley smiles at me as I sit down on my bed and snuff out the cig on the table beneath the window. I kinda wanna ask what she told Dally, but I don't wanna seem the kinda asshole only interested in her tits when she's in my room at ten o'clock at night. She's still standing there, in the middle of my room, arms crisscrossed around her middle. "You can sit down if you want," I suddenly clue in. Sure, my covers are a bit wrinkled and not at all organized, but they're cleaner than Curly's. She gets the hint when I move over to the side and tilt my head. "Careful, Tim," Marley huffs as the bed creaks under the new weight, "wouldn't want me thinking you're a gentleman, right?"