Love Her

Page 6

Okay, I thought again, what's the worst I can live through? I didn't like that question so much, either. But I thought through the possibilities I'd considered today.

I leaned my cheek against my knee, after all, I was thinking about the worst-case scenario. The very worst I could live through. So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel a little bit dizzy like I was standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high. Some kind of change was coming. I could feel it. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, not when life was alright just the way it was.

Along with the fear, I was beginning to feel impatience. How long could this last?

I took her phone to read through her previous messages. Maybe I was developing a new kind of sickness, another addiction, like a numbness or something. I didn't care. I had to know if she was interested. Invested in looking.

Besides, we used each other's phones all the time. This was nothing new.

'You look really pretty, by the way,' her match had added apprehensively.

Pretty? She is much more than that! Angelic, maybe. Exquisite, yes. But pretty? Idiot.

She came back, drinks in hand.

I didn't deserve to have someone like her. She is forgiving, sweet, and kind. Forgiveness is her virtue. There was no other meaning behind her actions. I don't even think she knows how to hold a grudge.

I frowned. "He called you pretty," my previous anger began bubbling to the surface. "That's practically an insult, the way you look right now. You're much more than beautiful."

Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. The look of perplexity made my lips twitch up. She then giggled. "You might be a little biased."

"I don't think that's it. Besides, I have excellent eyesight."

She shot me a look, then sat down and began texting. She was just being courteous. It was only in her nature. I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. The burden made my head bow and my shoulders slump.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I announced suddenly.

"Don't fall in" she retorted.

I brought my face close to the mirror, studying it. I was oddly flushed and more red than normal; facing my sallow reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. I'd never been one of the bottle-blondes or the shy-quiets or the silent-pretties. I'd always be the normal girl, maybe one day I'd either be in college and get a receptionist job, or I'd fall in with the wrong crowd and get a facial piercing. There seemed to only be those two directions in my life, boring or interesting. Grey or bright. Withe, monochrome and bland, or vivid, kaleidoscopic and regular.

"At least I'm trying," I whispered to my thoughts, hesitating, "If it gets to be...too much, I'm certain I'll be able to stop." I stared at my reflection again. Then, dejectedly, I sighed and looked down.