Have Kids, Then We'll Talk

I sit on the windowsill and nibble on the cigarette-filter stuck in between my lips. Sleep didn't really appeal to me once I climbed back into my room through that same window, so after spending half an hour in bed, I got out of it and sat on the same spot I’m sitting now. My hair is eating my face again, as Aiden would gently put it, and I blow it out of my eyes before taking another puff of smoke past my lips. The city is already alive – as if the night had never really fallen. I hate and love this place, and can you really blame me?

It’s easy to rise here, as easy as it is to fall and I should know, right? My father built his carrier off his downfalls, but he’s a rockstar, they’re meant to fall, it makes them heroes of some sort. But when someone like me falls, and I do it often, they’re spoilt rich brats who fuck around cause they have no future and nothing better to do. Although I may sound it, I am not offended, not in the least – I mean, any sort of publicity is good publicity. I just don’t know if I want it anymore.

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of my early-morning’s brooding thoughts and I turn around, balancing my ass on the thin strip of wood. Quinn’s chuckle makes me roll my eyes as the blonde guitarist comes into my sight. I swear that age doesn’t affect him, and not just his physical appearance. I highly doubt that his brain has exited puberty yet.

“Christ, did you sleep at all last night?”

What a way to compliment a girl. I voice my remark.

“I was just being honest. You look like you spent the night raving around with your friends.”

“How much do you know?”

“You came home at exactly 5.34 am.”

His features lit up with a sly smile and mine darken quite a bit as I stand up and walk to the nearest mirror. I don’t know who invented concealer, but I’ll love them to death. I stare at Quinn’s reflection while I smear the ivory shade all over my face, paying special attention to the dark circles around my eyes – if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought someone knocked me unconscious and beat the shit out of me last night. Truth be told – I do feel like that and these things do happen around here, like, a lot.

He stares back at me, his lips constantly twitching into that same smile.

“Okay,” I say, setting down the brush I used to make myself look alive, “you’ll keep quiet, right?”

There. That smile again. My eyebrow begins to twitch in slight annoyance, amused annoyance, but still…

“You know what you gotta do for that.”

“I’m not gonna go on a double date with you and the gay yoga-instructor’s brother!”

All prospects of my brooding thoughts continuing this morning have just fallen into the murky waters of the river called Quinn’s Lovelife.

“You’re itching for it.”

“That sounded so fucking dirty.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Too bad you can’t tell Bert.”

“Quinneeeeeeeeeeeh.”

“Fine.”

And off he goes, not saying a word. The only good thing that comes out of being a girl and sharing an apartment with three other men is that you get to act like a spoiled brat when you feel like it.

I go back to trying to make myself presentable and have some fun with my mascara, poking myself in the eye in the process. Despite my blurred vision, I conclude that my face is now applied and I drag myself over to the closet, already starting to feel the aftermath of everything I have done last night. With the face of a martyr I slip into a pair of pantyhose and curse out on the mandatory school uniforms rule.

Hm… English today. I raise my hemline a bit and put on a black lacy bra under the white button up they make us sport around like geeky band kids. Might as well make the best of it.

“You ARE NOT going to school wearing THAT, Charlotte.”

I turn around to have my father’s righteous index finger poking me in the nose. I roll my eyes and walk past him, tripping over the carpet while trying to put on my left shoe.

“Doesn’t ANYONE knock anymore?! I could have been naked here B—dad!”

I can’t find my fucking earrings.

“Well, you’re not. Is that a school you’re attending or a fucking brothel?”

“A fucking school. Literally. I think we stopped off at the seventh chapter of the Kamasutra last school year.”

His eyes bulge out a slight bit and I struggle not to laugh, knowing I have probably pushed one too many buttons already. Instead, I lower my skirt a bit and beam at his stern face, staring at him like a half-moronic fuckwit until he finally gives in with a sigh and settles down on my bed.

“You want me to give you a ride?” His blue eyes flash at me, already expecting to hear what I am about to say. I feel sorry in a way, but not quite enough to give in.

“You know Aiden will pick me up to meet with Dan.”

“Oh, right. You two are just friends, right, Charlotte?”

God, how many more times will I have to go through this?

“Uh, yeah? C’mon, dad, you know he’s like a brother to me.”

For some unknown reason I cringe inwardly at the thought. That would just be… wrong. I guess I can only hope that dad hasn’t really fucked around before as he does now. Yeah, that deserves another cringe.

While the aging rockstar seated on my bed continues his lament on the account of my friendship with all the wrong guys on this planet and wider, I pull out my phone and smile at the text message waiting to be read. The sender’s name blinks on the display: Jay.

I start to think we’re both following some ritual we founded by pure chance as I read the simple greeting: Morning, Charlie.

The same greeting I had the fortune to read every morning for a couple of weeks now. It all started out as subtle innuendos at our growing affection for one another and kept on evolving until the flirtation has slowly become obvious, but to none other than ourselves. I prefer for things to stay that way, and by the looks of it, so does Jay.

I completely ignore dad’s ramblings, typing a reply and being completely unable to stop smiling so stupidly. Jared Way, the nicest, kindest, smoothest and the most mysterious boy of them all. I don’t really know what’s that thing within him that attracts me to his smile – he is so far from my type of guy. But whenever I find myself in his presence I seem to forget about that fact and only remember the day we first met as kids – and when he named one of his instruments after me. He’s far from that innocent kid now – he grew up into a genuine enigma, a riddle to everyone but to himself. An enigma to me.

And I do love a challenge.

'You're special, in general.'

I blush, despite the presence of someone else in my room, but decide not to let Jay get away with his flattery. I reply with a smirk and close my phone, listening carefully to hear when his reply arrives while I shoo dad out of the room and lie down onto my bed for a minute, the smog-shrouded sun beaming down on me.

I wish he didn’t know about my reputation. For some reason, the whole “man-eater” thing just doesn’t suit me when I think about him. He makes me feel different, like he knows that I’m hiding my emotions as well as a snake hides its legs.

I also wonder if Madie knows about this yet.

“This year better be good”, I whisper with a small smile ghosting over my lips and stand up, grabbing my bag in the process and march out the apartment after yelling a goodbye to daddy dearest and the rest of the most important men in my life.

Upon closing the door I raise my hemline again and undo two more buttons on my button up, pulling on the school-issued blazer bearing the school’s emblem. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I plan on making an impression right away and the first days are most important. No point in hiding that I haven’t changed., they all expect this anyway.

I descend a floor and see a flash of Aiden’s face whipping past mine and then feel the full force of his lips colliding with my cheekbone.

“Ready?”

I swear, if it weren’t for the fact that he has probably nailed half of Manhattan by now, I’d think he’s five at times, especially today. His eyes shine brightly as he indicates for me to latch onto his arm in that old-fashioned manner and leads us both into an elevator and mind-numbing elevator music – Muskrat Love – fills the silence between us while I’m typing a “catch me if you can” a.k.a. ‘see you later’ message to his younger brother.

“Dan’s meeting us at the bus station?” I ask while studying his very manly outfit. Note the sarcasm.

“Like always, doll.” He cocks his eyebrow, dismissing my remark about his clothing before I even open my mouth.

There, it has begun.

And I still have to see whether that statement will be followed by a shit-eating grin or a very and quite sickly joyous smile.