Bondfelt

"I'm trying this new Nair cream shit -- you know, as an alternative to shaving -- and it burns like absolute hell." I groaned, standing in my bathroom with my lower back leant against the sink, legs covered in the white substance from the knee down, one hand holding my phone to my ear while I held the small Nair bottle in front of me with the other, reading and observing the writing on the back of it.

"I tried that once," Cece replied, "It's the worst, right? Plus you have to let your legs get all hairy again before you can use it, or else it burns and like melts your skin away. And then you bleed and it stings."

"You know, I want to meet the idiot that came up with moisturizing after shaving." I went on absentmindedly, "I mean, could you think of a worse idea?"

"I know!" She shrieked at me through the phone, "It's like running jagged knives up and down your legs. Probably the most painful thing I've ever experienced."

"I did it once, and never went back." I confessed, she hummed.

"You and I both." She sighed as I squinted at some of the fine print, "So, we're hanging out at Carsons tonight, right?"

I nodded even though she couldn't see, "Yeah. I have to go teach my yoga class and it'll probably be over at about six, so I'll just come back to my place, change, then go over."

"Can I come over after your yoga class and we'll hang out at your place for maybe an hour? And then we can go over to his place." She suggested.

"Sure thing."

She sighed, "I love how absolutely convenient it is that you guys are neighbours." She commented, "'Cause then I don't have to do more driving."

"Well, you know. Keeping dangerous people off the roads as much as possible; it's what we do." I sighed nonchalantly, smirking to myself. She huffed.

"Dumb bitch."



"So what do you think about Adam coming to the wedding with us? Hypothetically, of course. He hasn't given me an answer... yet." Cece asked me from my bed, a small smirk on her face as she laid on her front and flipped through one of her magazines, Jimmy laying beside her with his head on his paws in front of him. For some reason, she always brought a magazine with her wherever she went and kept it in her purse. Sometimes I think she did it to make it easier to be rude to people she disliked, since I recall her pulling it out in the middle of a conversation she was having with someone on numerous occasions. It never made whoever she was talking to very happy.

I groaned loudly as I did up the clasp on my bra, getting changed after my yoga class, "What do I think?" I inquired in return, narrowing my eyes at her nonchalant self laying on my bed, not looking up at me from her magazine. I wanted to smash a lamp over her head. "I think you're an obnoxious skank is what I think." She promptly stopped going through her magazine and at last looked up at me, stood, in the doorway of my bathroom, clad in my black bra and black boy shorts.

"Well that's a little mean."

I gritted my teeth lightly and sighed, "Sometimes you really make me want to strangle you, you know that?" I muttered seriously, crossing my arms angrily.

She rolled her eyes, "You're making so much more out of it then it has to be. It's not a big deal, don't be such a little pussy -- gosh, and people say I'm dramatic." She scoffed, shaking her head a little in an absurd manner, "If you guys would just forgive and forget already, you'll be fine as friends, and then everyone will be happy!"

"There's no forgetting, though!" I flailed my arms above me in exasperation, "Forgetting is impossible!" I stopped, looking straight over at her with a serious face, pointing a finger at her, "Forgetting is a thing I'm not good at."

She huffed lazily, "You let things haunt you, I don't understand." She told me, shutting her eyes and shaking her head briefly, "You need to let go of all of this shit, and move the fuck on."

"I have!"

She groaned loudly in frustration, immediately shutting her magazine and chucking it down beside her bag at the side of the bed, pushing herself up and moving into a cross legged position on my bed, "You haven't, you idiot. You still think about it and let it impact the things you do and the choices you make -- I'm not stupid, if anyone knows anything about failed relationships it's me god damn it, and you know that's true." She retorted in a stern voice, "You have not moved on. You're still all hung up on Adam and what happened between the both of you, and quite frankly, I think it's about time you two sat down and talked about this, because something needs to be done about this. It's way overdue." I stared at her with a hard look, arms crossed firmly again, and gave a frustrated sigh, changing the subject. I shuffled over to her and put my foot on the side of the bed, grabbing her hand and running her palm down my leg. Her lower lip jutted out in an impressed manner and looked up at me, "Is that that Nair stuff?" I gave a little sigh and nodded. "Huh. It never worked that good for me."

I smirked, "Yeah well. You have man legs, so."



Hanging out at Carsons place didn't go exactly as planned, and I shouldn't have been surprised, I should have saw it coming, but I didn't, and I'm a fool for that reason. With all the talk between Cece and Carson of Adam and I miraculously attempting to become friends and make amends, I should have known this would happen. No, friends, it wasn't just the three of us hanging out that night, and now all three of us, with the addition of Adam, sat wedged on the couch in Carsons loft, watching an X-Men movie while Jimmy rested happily at Adams feet. For what Adam and I lacked in conversation, Cece and Carson made up for in smiles and chatter, acting casual and nonchalant, with pride glowing from them, because it was too obvious to conceal, and they wore it like white on chalk. Adam and I sat lodged between Cece and Carson as they munched on their chips and popcorn and sipped on their cans of soda.

Unhappily I sat slumped back against the couch with my arms crossed in an upset manner, while Adam sat straight, his arms also crossed, eyes not leaving the screen but showing obvious discomfort. This was definitely the second most awkward situation I'd ever been in -- runner up to the one time I'd walked in on Cece and my own cousin getting rowdy in the bathroom at my aunts wedding. This was almost as uncomfortable as that, it was a very close second.

I thought it couldn't get any worse; I was so wrong. Cece had stopped and, in a loud voice, acted as if she were out of soda, "Oh! Would you look at that? I've finished my soda." She exaggerated disappointment, standing from the couch. I lifted my hand to my face, cupping my elbow with my other hand, and rubbed my temple, bottling up anger as it poured from every inch of me, "Carson, help me look for more soda in the kitchen?" And the little bit of hope I saw in Carsons bewildered, pouty face as he said something about wanting to watch the movie, it was gone in a second when he caught on and promptly followed Cece out to the kitchen.

Adam and I sat alone now, and although the movie was still playing, it felt like it had never been more silent. Neither of us moved a muscle. I had shut my eyes, still rubbing stiffly at my temple as my head began to ache, and I swore to myself then that the next time I got the two of those little jerks alone I was going to give them a visit to hell that they would never forget. Talk about betrayal, those traitors. I was on the verge of having a panic attack, not that that was something Adam hadn't ever seen before. How could two of my best friends do this to me? This was so... so high school. I was twenty four, but apparently Cece was still stuck in a teenage mindset, if her plan to steal away old high school jock prince Greg Landers from her cousin Rae wasn't proof enough of that already.

Awkwardly, Adam cleared his throat quietly and gave a small sigh, glancing very briefly over in my direction, but not exactly at me. And then, "Didn't you think you had mutant powers when you were like, eight?" He spoke actual words to me, and that was something I did not expect. What was even more surprising was that he'd actually cared to remember things about me that I'd told him while we were dating.

I scrunched up my nose momentarily and squinted a bit at the television screen skeptically, "So?"

He laughed to himself under his breath, "What kind of idiot kid thinks that?"

My jaw dropped in dismay and I bolted upright in my spot and looked directly over at him. He instantly returned my gaze and smirked smugly at me, "I'm sorry you were born with a serious lack of imagination!" I snapped back at him, "What are you? A robot?" He scoffed and looked away, waving a dismissive hand at me. I slapped it away and glared at him, he smirked towards the television in amusement and snickered quietly to himself.

"No, just intelligent."

"You're a serious asshole, I hope you know!" I gritted my teeth, clenching my fists before slumping back into the couch and crossing my arms angrily.

"Yeesh! Take a joke!" He scoffed again, "When did you start taking everything so seriously? You used to be fun."

"I'm still fun!" I yelped defensively, "But how much fun can a person be when they're being insulted!"

He waved another dismissive hand at me and rolled his eyes, "Sorry. I didn't remember you being so fragile."

I ground my teeth together and glared at him as he watched the television, my fists balled up so hard my knuckles were whiter then usual, "And I didn't remember you being this mean." He turned his head directly to his side to look at my face, but didn't give me eye contact.

He sighed lowly, muttering, "Sorry." Like he used to after we'd fought when we were together, it made me nauseous, it brought me back there. I looked at him for a brief moment before turning my head away and tipping my head back a little, gazing up at the ceiling. A few minutes passed before he sighed again in a preparatory manner, and spoke up again, "Look," He started, I didn't budge, "Have they been giving you as hard of a time as me with wanting us to get along?" And I sincerely didn't even want to answer him, because I had been trying to act upset at him, but I gave up and set my pride aside this time.

"Probably worse." I stated simply, shutting my eyes in an uninterested manner.

His breaths were deep, "I think we should just talk about everything."

"Nah, I'm good." I declined, rolling my head against the back of the couch to look back over at him now. He gave me a stern look. I stared, finally formally reintroduced to the look of his hazel eyes.

"Don't do that, let's just talk." He replied, I sighed, "I don't know what happened with us for everything to end up so badly, but if I'm being honest, I wish it hadn't, and now there's no changing it. Everything that happened, happened. And it's unfortunate. But before we ever got romantically involved we were good friends, and things were good then."

I gave up, "I just don't know why we stuck together so long after everything stopped being so great for it to end up so sour between the two of us."

He scrunched up his face in an absurd look and gave an obvious laugh, "Because the sex was great, obviously." He said in a jesting manner, but I could tell he was being completely serious. He wasn't wrong either.

I looked at him for a moment before raising my eyebrows and shrugging a shoulder. I turned my eyes in front of me, staring out at nothing in particular as I lost myself in thought, "The sex was pretty great."

"Fantastic." He agreed again absentmindedly with a nod, thinking back himself and looking away as he did so. And thinking back on it all didn't do me any justice in getting over everything.

I looked back over at him and he turned his head to meet my eyes, and when our gazes kept all I could think of was how he looked half naked in bed with me, on his knees while I straddled his lap, a hand grabbing hard on my hip as we kissed while the other pressed firmly into my back, holding me close against him, my hands roaming his neck and his shoulders and his chest and anywhere they could feel more of him, massaging my fingertips into his flesh. My chest would be on fire and I would want him all over me. My hunger for his kisses would never cease. It was times like those that anything else that wasn't Adam didn't matter, where the room was on fire and his fingertips left burns on my skin. And thinking about it made me unfortunately hungry for his kisses again. I was slowly falling right back to how I was in the beginning of it all. I had to learn to stand my ground.

It took me a moment to realize his hand grabbing the back of my neck and pulling my lips to press into his was just a figment of my own imagination, to realize our lips enveloping like they used to was all in my head, and I recalled then how warm they were and how softly he would kiss me with them. Briefly I was tempted to grab the collar of his shirt and tug him close with brute force, to swing myself over his lap and press my mouth into any skin I could get them on, but it was the burn of poison his skin and his kisses had began to give me near the ending of our relationship that held me from doing so. I couldn't do it, the foreboding feeling in my stomach was far too much to ignore -- it wasn't enough to keep me from ignoring the truth though, which I found to be a bit unfortunate, and the truth was, I missed him. I missed Adam and I missed him dearly, and by all means I had to learn not to. I stared straight, heaving a sigh out of my heavy chest; I knew what had to be done, and I knew very well, and it made me more anxious then anything, as if seeing him didn't make me anxious enough. I shut my eyes for a brief moment, took a short moment, and spoke. "We should try to get along." I gave a nod. The situation before me was enough for me to come to terms with the fact that the childish behaviour needed to come to an end. There were going to be difficulties, but we had to reach a compromise sooner or later. He gave a silent nod, in thought, and I shifted slightly, hoping I wouldn't regret this later on, "We have to, for everyone else's sake."