twenty two | a new babe

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More than a week has gone by, and the more the days go by — specifically the moments I spend with Micah when I can — the more I realise that I'm giving this boy 'girlfriend privileges'. Even more, I've limited my time with Andrea, and I told myself I'd never be one of those girls who end up having no friends because she spends so much time with her boyfriend. But that's the thing.

I'm not spending enough time with her and I'm treating this boy like he's my boyfriend. Never asked me out once! How else am I supposed to actually like him for who he is, personality and all, if all we do is hold hands and stuff, to allow him to recharge his physical desire battery or something?

I'm trying not to compare him to anyone, I really am. But I don't know if I'm being insecure, or I'm overthinking maybe... or... I don't know.

Maybe I'm just hungry, and I've been standing in this long line, waiting for my food I paid for, and my hunger is now making me overthink everything else. Or maybe it's because I'm going to be on my period, so of course I'll start acting up or thinking things that aren't even true.

Or maybe it's because of that overly perfect couple sitting not too far from where I stand. I hate how she smiles so genuinely at him, or how he holds her chin up and kisses her so beautifully. I hate how they seem oblivious to the world and clearly have no problems with what doesn't involve their love for each other.

They can... perish, for all I care.

I scoff, turning my head from them when I hear my name being called. The server/ lady hands me the plastic container with my tramazini with a smile. I take it and head away from the canteen, when suddenly, I pump into somebody by the arm.

Not to say I couldn't care less, but I do apologise over my shoulder and mind my business. It almost goes over the person's head, since I hear the person call me out of my name.

I casually turn around, and a few steps away from me stands a girl I've never seen before. She has dark hair, almost black, and hazel green eyes. I'd say she is pretty, but just because she's giving me a dirty look, I don't think she is pretty. She stands there with the tightest, shortest black dress I've laid eyes on, and her long legs threaten my short height.

I literally raise an eyebrow at her. Is this... a confrontation? Is she about to confront me right now?

"It's best you watch where you're going." She gives a bitter smile. "You know, just in case you bump into the wrong people next time."

I can't help but nod slowly, disinterested but willing to listen. "Right. I did say sorry. Didn't you hear me?"

"I don't care if you said sorry." She scoffs, taking a step closer as her eyes wander over my body like I'm some garbage bag begging to be disposed.

Alright, then, what do we call this then? "Okay. Okay. So can I—"

"Stop right there." Her index finger raises up. An all too perfect eyebrow raises up at me. "Why do you smell like that?"

I feel gobsmacked, insulted and all the above. Never has anyone commented on a smell on me. Not the way this babe is. I literally stare at her with fish lips as her eyes analyse my very own face, inch by inch and her eyes slowly narrow. I don't know if it's the look of realisation or recognition, but a snarl seems to leave her face.

"You."

"Me?" I place my hand on my chest.

"I've seen you before."

"Considering you commented loudly on my smell, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you probably have." I take a step closer and whisper; "Do I smell bad? And from woman to woman, why would you say that out loud?"

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