Pallid

"Stop talking shit," Ulysses spits at me on Rita's balcony, glaring. I'm out here because I can't stand to see them together inside and I know that if I'm stuck in there for much longer, I'll drag her out and never look back.

So I'll just stand out here and drink really crappy beer and smoke an equally crappy cigarette, trying to pass the time. I glance at him, and he's shutting the sliding glass door, sealing off the sounds of the raging party inside.

"Excuse me?" I ask quietly, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Excuse me?" he mocks, rolling his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. 'Ask Ulysses because he's been screwin' Celeste for forever.' What the fuck was that, bro?"

"Well, I'm not your bro," I mumble, sipping the beer that really should be called swill because it tastes like piss. "We're not even friends, Ulysses."

It'd be kind of weird if we did.

"Stop messin' around with me, man." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. I don't see why all these girls are growing crazy over him. I mean, I'm not jealous or whatever, but he's not really that attractive and his accent is awful and he seems like a general idiot, not to mention his penchant for beating on girls. I don't get it. "Why'd you have to go runnin' your mouth to Rita like that?"

"But you have been messing around with Celeste behind her back for a while."

I don't understand why he's acting like he hasn't done anything wrong. I mean, this is his fault. He's a creepy little boy trapped in a man's body and is lusting after a girl who's old enough to be his little sister. It's weird and creepy and just wrong.

"How is it any of your business?!" he sneers, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, man, Rita's losin' her shit and if she sees Celeste here, she's gonna--" He sighs, shaking his head. "She's gonna flip, Rhys. I mean, really. You've seen her get mad."

Rita's crazy, but that's neither here nor there, and that's his problem anyway, not mine. I don't understand why he's acting like this, like he can just talk to me about this, because he's sleeping with my Celeste, for crying out loud. Doesn't he know that she's my girlfriend?

Everyone does.

They know every god awful detail.

"Well, maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to mess around with your girlfriend's little sister and my girlfriend," I say casually, shrugging my shoulders. "Could have probably avoided this whole mess. But what do I know?" I throw up my hands, shaking my head. "I'm just Rhys."

"Celeste thinks you're a shithead," he says, lighting up a cigarette. "Just so you know."

"And she loves you and I think you're a creepy twat. Just so you know."

"I don't love her, though. She knows that."

No she doesn't.

That's what I should say, but I don't and just silently fume instead.

I throw my cigarette off the balcony and pour my beer onto the sidewalk. And yeah, I probably poured it on the head of some innocent, unsuspecting passerby, but I don't care, because I hate everyone here.

I hate the thought of them together the most.