Your Lips Are a Hot Flame, Baby And Our Chemistry Is Kerosene

Elle and I were watching Peter Pan calmly, having “bonding time”, no boys allowed. Just me, Elle, and a boxful of pop tarts. Peter was trying to teach Wendy how to fly at the moment, when Elle spoke.

“What?” she turned to me, asking bitterly.

I gave her a quizzical look, “what what?”

“You sighed,” she stated.

“I did not,” I furrowed my brows, “and so what if I did, I cant sigh now?”

She rolled her eyes and paused the VHS, “why are you so happy? You never sigh.”

“What?”

“Just, spill it, what happened,” she shook her head lightly.

A smile slowly crept to my face, “fine,” I giggled, “Alex wrote me a song.”

She gave me a look which completely read off are-you-serious, then pressed play.

“What?” I asked her this time. She turned to me, then back to the TV. “What, I cant be happy because he wrote me a song?”

“Noel,” she paused the movie, “not too long ago you were saying that girls were his excuses for songs, not too long ago you felt bad for his girlfriends, and now, look at yourself, you’ve turned into another one of the bunch.”

I stared at her wide-eyed, how could she? “Excuse you? Another one of the bunch? You are so mistaken, Alex and I are in love, and we’re not going to break-”

“Noel,” she sighed, “has he even asked you to be his girlfriend?”

I relaxed and replied on a lower tone, “… no.”

She chuckled lightly, “you’re right, you must be special to him then.” She dropped the VHS control and stood up, stretching, “I’d rather go to sleep than discuss this with you, just, don’t get yourself too involved.”

“You were the one who told me to give him a chance!” I stood up and shouted at her as she walked up the stairs. “Pfft, one of the bunch, who does she think she is, Dr. Phil?” I talked to myself in a lower voice, “one of the bunch. Pfft.”