All the Shades of Her

Five missed calls from Charis and counting, of which I had returned none. I clutched my phone in one hand, wondering if it was worth calling her back, while the other yanked a sock on to my exposed foot. I steadied myself on the bedside cabinet and stared indecisively at the screen before throwing the phone on to the unmade hotel bed.

I was getting ready for a party with my mom. A work-related affair. Very big deal. Normally I wouldn't have bothered, because I don't really see the point in parties, but after discovering that Ontario had little to offer me, I'd agreed to go. Mom was, understandably, ridiculously excited, because she could drink a little and flirt a little and pretend she was a stupid kid again. I, on the other hand, was considerably less enthusiastic.

"Aren't you going to wear a dress?" Mom had asked moments previous, only managing to disguise her disapproval thinly. She folded her arms as I pulled on a pair of faded jeans then stood upright. I huffed.

"Mom, let's be realistic. When was the last time I wore a dress?"

Her shoulders rose and fell in an exasperated shrug, and she watched with a bemused expression as I pulled a cardigan over my shirt. She herself was wearing a dark dress, midnight blue to be specific; she'd never been the most fashionable of middle-aged women but she looked pretty nonetheless.

"Ready?" she asked, after I'd pulled on my shoes. I nodded. She smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder in a brief hug as she opened the door. I glanced back at my phone, abandoned on the bed, then followed her out into the hallway.

-

I sat alone at the bar, sipping at a Coke and watching a bunch of half-drunk adults embarrass themselves on the dancefloor. Unfortunately, that included my mom. I watched in disgust as she twisted and contorted her limbs in a disgraceful attempt at dancing; the lack of rhythm and coordination was goddamn horrifying.

"Isn't it just shameful?" someone said next to me. I jumped, spilling half my Coke down my shirt. I turned to face the stranger.

She was staring out towards the writhing crowd, shaking her head as if she was witness to the saddest event on earth. Her eyes found their way to my stained shirt and she smiled softly.

"You scared me," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a weak explanation. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face and her smile blazed wider.

"Sorry," she replied, and I could tell that she meant it. The first genuine apology I'd received in what seemed like forever. "I'm Estelle, by the way. That's mine there." She pointed at a woman whose dance moves were almost worse than my mother's. I laughed.

"Evangeline," I told her, wiping down my shirt with the palm of my hand, "but people usually just call me Evan."

Estelle leaned back against the bar casually. "That's a really pretty name." I stared at her face, looking for any sign that she was mocking me. I found none.

"Thanks." A blush crept into my cheeks. And not for a moment did my mind wander to the phone that lay unattended upstairs on my bed, or a thousand miles away to the girl who I loved and left behind.

We sat in companionable silence for a minute or so. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, taking in her appearance. She was fair-skinned, with tousled blonde hair that tumbled down over her shoulders like a waterfall of gold. Her soft lips were upturned in a kindly half-smile that increased the warmth of her face tenfold, and her eyes were the colour of summer sky, bright and inviting.

I fixed my gaze back on my mom before she caught me looking, and just as I did so she turned on her stool to face me. "Can I get you another Coke? I guess I feel kinda guilty." She smiled again, cheeks glowing.

"Um, alright," I mumbled. "You don't have to, though, honestly-"

But she was already talking to the barman, ordering two Cokes with lemon slices. She handed mine to me and took a sip of her own, giggling as bubbles tickled her nose. Then she bent over to me, stirring her drink with her straw.

"I told him to put it on the work's bill," she whispered in my ear, her voice like liquid honey. Then she chuckled to herself as if this was the most deceitful damn act to have ever been committed. I had to laugh too, though. Because she was rather charming, and cute, and lovely in a whole assortment of ways.

When we fell quiet, she looked at me with that curious half-smile that was so friendly and warm. I blushed under her gaze and averted my own down into my drink. "You're really pretty, y'know. Like your name." And she said this as though everyone on earth ought to know it, as if it was one of the most obvious and fundamental facts of life.

"Not half as pretty as you, I expect."

"How old are you?" she inquired mildly, her mouth finding her glass as she spoke.

"Sixteen," I returned, hoping that I didn't sound stupid. "You?"

"Eighteen," she said briefly. "Hey, you wanna get out of here and go watch some movies in my hotel room? I don't think they'll miss us." She glanced meaningfully at the oblivious adults. I grinned at her, feeling a little adventurous. And at that Charis forced her way back into my thoughts: adventures were our thing to share and remember. But then I looked at Estelle's hopeful and open expression, and everything inside of me stopped fighting.

I grabbed her hand and we ran as if we'd never been on an adventure before in our lives.

-

It turned out that as sweet as Estelle seemed, she had an unsettling passion for zombie movies. Unfortunately, I had a pathetically weak stomach and spent the entirety of her gore-athon hiding behind a pillow, much to Estelle's glee.

Aside from that, however, we had a surprising amount in common, like our shared love for chips and dip and sickeningly romantic novels. Not to mention our views on school, fashion (if it could be referred to as such), and mothers. And as the night sky grew darker I found my interest in Estelle grew deeper, and every accidental brush of skin became more electric, and less accidental, until she placed her hand purposefully on top of mine. Her palm was warm and smooth; she traced the slender bones of my fingers as I struggled to focus my attention on the movie.

Eventually, she said "Am I making you uncomfortable?" And her hand never ceased that comforting pattern, following the bones of my hand from my wrist to the end of my fingers. It was strange, because I felt like I should've known how it feels to be touched that way, gentle and caring and genuine. But then it struck me that I didn't know: I had never known such a touch, only the rushed and drunken fumblings of Charis Daughtry.

That sparked a sort of vindictive and angry flame deep down in the pit of my stomach, and I replied quietly "No, I don't want you to stop."

Estelle's arm found its way around my waist and she pulled me closer, so close that I could feel her breath against my ear. And it wasn't hot and intense, like Charis', but soothing and tender, like pressing a seashell against your ear and hearing the swell of the sea that really wasn't sea at all. When she spoke, there wasn't a trace of seductiveness in her voice, just simple nervousness, and she still managed to shake my spine with shivers of delight. Was this what it was like to be liked?

"Can I kiss you, please?" she murmured against the curve of my ear, her damp lips brushing the sensitive skin. I knew then, the answer to both my question and hers.

"Yes," I said breathlessly. She reached up with fingers delicate and turned my face towards her, lips inching closer with every second, and I felt a sort of patient desperation both for her kiss and for that moment to last forever. My stomach flamed as I felt our breath exchange, and just as her lips drew impossibly close to mine - like a wave about to break - the door opened.

"Estelle - oh!" We broke apart, tension heavy in the air. A flustered woman stood in the doorway, running a hand awkwardly through her disheveled dirty blonde hair. "Sorry," she said, clearly embarrassed. I grinned weakly.

"Mom..." Estelle grumbled, falling backwards on the bed with an exaggerated sigh. Her mom shut the door behind her and stood with her hands on her hips.

"I said sorry! If I knew you were going to be bringing girls back here then -"

"Mom, please shut up!" she cried, sitting upright and motioning towards me with her head. Her mom turned her attention to me and smiled, warm like Estelle.

"I'm sorry, I'm being so rude! I'm Heidi, Estelle's mother. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Evan, Diane's daughter," I replied, scooting off the bed. "Nice to meet you too."

"Yeah, she's just saying that, Mom. I showed her your dancing. She saw. We all saw," Estelle announced with just a trace of annoyance in her voice. Heidi waved her hand dismissively, throwing her handbag on to her own bed.

"I expect you're staying the night then, Evan?" Heidi said, making her way over to the vanity to remove her make-up. "Does your mother know?"

"Oh, Christ, Mom, really?" Estelle muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "No, she's not staying. I'm walking her back to her room right now before you scare her any more."

She stood up and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me out of the room before I even had the chance to throw a goodbye over my shoulder.

"Your mom seems nice," I teased as we made our way back to my room at the opposite end of the hall. She groaned and nudged me gently.

"Shut up," she retorted, face turning red. "I didn't know she was coming back so soon, I'm so pissed off."

By this point we'd reached my room and I spun round to face her. "Maybe you'll have to make it up to me," I told her, smirking. She wrapped her arms around my waist and examined my face, trying to hide her smile.

"Maybe," she murmured, staring innocently at my mouth.

"Maybe," I mocked softly and she made a face. I giggled and kissed her on the cheek. I pulled away to find her pouting.

"That's it?" she asked, attempting to sound offended. I shrugged.

"This way you'll have to make it up to me." I grinned, pulling gently against her hold. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth but she was smiling all the same.

"Well-played," she replied, and I sensed the defeat in her tone. It was all so strange, feeling in control of the way someone else felt and could feel. I felt like Charis, albeit more considerate and less selfish. It was nice, something I could get used to.

"Goodnight," I said softly, pulling away from reluctant arms. She sent me a last warming smile before turning and making her way back up the hallway.

I opened the door to my room, feeling less empty than I had done in years.