Another Sentimental Argument

"Logan, there's someone on the phone for you."

I pin up the person's order I just took for the chef to see before walking over to where one of my coworkers stands holding the phone out. "Who is calling me?" I ask more to myself than to her. She just shrugs and stretches her arm out further for me to get it and she walks away.

"Hello?"

"I'm so glad I got the right number," I heard the voice sigh in relief on the other end.

"Mike? That you?" I smile into the phone a little.

"Yes, it is me. I hate to be calling you at work, but I just wanted to let you know that we're having a little get together tonight at our place and I thought since I told you to call me sometime and you haven't, that I would take intiative." Mike chuckles and I feel a little redness sneak up on my cheeks.

I can't ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach however knowing that 'our' place means Billie's place as well. Before speaking, my brain runs all of the possible situations that could happen. Billie could cuss me out and kick me out of his apartment. Billie could be with another girl. Billie could ignore me. Billie could not be there at all.

"I'm taking your hesitation as a 'yes.' Also, what time do you get off? I could pick you up since you don't know where the apartment is."

I shake off the anxiousness and smile faintly although I know he can't see. "You really want me to go, don't you?"

There's barely a pause before he answers. "Hell yeah! Now, stop yapping on the phone and get back to work!" We laugh together before we say goodbye and hang up.

I turn around to see the assistant manager giving me a watered down version of the stink eye. I smile sheepishly and immediately head back out to the dining area.

After getting off of work (and snagging a fifty dollar tip), I am back at my apartment sipping on a small glass of wine for my nerves as I search through my closet for something to wear. I try to take deep breaths and not get too worked up because I want to be happy tonight. I don't want to be sloppy drunk and I don't want to be soberly bitter. I want to feel calm. And if Billie is there and if Billie decides to talk to me, I want him to see that I'm not always crazy.

I hold up a loose fitting knit sweater by the hanger and decide that it will look good with some black jeans when I hear knocks at my door. I throw the clothes on top of my bed and rush to the door, opening it to reveal a smiling Mike.

"You ready?"

I roll my eyes playfully and gesture toward my work uniform. "Oh yes, this is just my favorite outfit!" His eyes roam over my uniform and then he shrugs and hits my gently on the arm.

"I didn't know! Girls are weird and shit." I nod in agreement before quickly shuffling back to my room to change.

We arrive at Mike's in a matter of a few small minutes—not nearly enough time for me to calm my nerves. But we are already here, standing in front of the door, and I take one last breath before he opens it.

The bright light catches my attention first because it is such a contrast to the dimly lit hallways we took to get here. I squint my eyes and Mike must have noticed because he lets out a heavy laugh before placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me into the kitchen.

There are a handful of people scattered about. Their mouths all move happily to and between each other; the music loud enough to drown out their words. I scan the room while I follow Mike to where he is going, and I don't see Billie. I think I am off the hook—at least for the moment—until I bring my eyes into focus upon entering the kitchen and see a boy leaning against the counter eating a slice of pizza, lazily staring at the ground. Billie is wearing a regular black tee shirt and I can see the tattoos on his arms—the ones I had only seen once before the night he showed up at my apartment and the night I ended up puking everywhere and saying mean things to him.

Before I have time to malfunction, Mike's voice snaps me back away from Billie's spell.

"Tre, this is Logan. A friend from high school." Mike's hand on the small of my back pushes me forward slightly to the boy named Tre. He is smiling goofily and it is sort of contagious because I feel my lips stretching into a smile as well.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, m'lady." His hand briefly snakes into mine and he lifts the back of my hand to his lips where he places a ghost of kiss. I'm surprised at how loudly I laugh and smile even more when I catch a twinkle in his eye.

As I'm settling into my smile, out of the corner of my eye I see Billie walk past us. I instantly feel cold and I can't help but let me face fall. It is hard to determine what hurts more; when he talks to me with cold words, or when he says nothing at all.

"Hey, y'know what would be fun?" I bring my eyes back up to Tre and his smile is taking up the whole room.

"What's that?" I say as I move around Mike who is getting a beer from the refrigerator.

"You helping me dye my hair!" His voice raises as do his arms as he flails them about.

I'm already laughing so hard I barely hear what my mouth says, "Right now?"

"Hell yeah! Night time is the right time!"

Before I have time to overthink anything, Tre's fingers are wrapped around my wrist and he is dragging me into the bathroom. He digs in the medicine cabinet quickly before turning back to me revealing green hair dye.

He must have been able to tell by the look on my face what I was thinking.

"Babe, I'm in a band. It's, like, written in the stars that I do shit like this." His inviting smile makes me forget things and I just nod my head happily as I prepare to dye his hair.

As I'm massaging the dye in his hair, he says: "So, you're friends with Mike, huh?"

The word 'friend' seems so odd to me. Not because I despise Mike--I am quite fond of him. But whenever I think about, Mike and I have only seen each other a few times since high school. I didn't know the typical facts—his middle name, favorite color, favorite food, or shoe size—but I felt like if I were in trouble at three in the morning, I could call him and he would be there. And I guess that means more than knowing someone's middle name. "Yeah," I told Tre.

He nods as he stares at me in the mirror's reflection. "And Billie, too?"

It was alarming how quickly my body temperature and heart rate changed just at the mention of his name.

I had never tried in my mind labeling what me and Billie were. Especially in the last two years. I just knew that I missed him and that I hated what I had done that night in his room and that everything reminded me of him. Did that makes us friends? Kissing him in his backyard and him telling me I was pretty and me blurting out that he was beautiful the first night I met him—were all those friendly gestures? And if we were even friends then, what would we be now?

"You look like I just asked you to explain quantum physics in front of the whole class."

I look back at Tre's face via the mirror and give him a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."

"You frown a lot."

"Do I?"

"As long as I've known you, I would say yes." His words weren't harsh; almost sweet and caring, really.

"It's only been maybe a couple of hours."

Tre smirks knowingly. "That has a lot to say for itself then, doesn't it?"

I try to keep from frowning while I go back to focusing on the bright green hair dye all over my gloves and in his hair.

"Does Billie Joe make you sad or something?"

I look up to see Tre's blue eyes in the mirror. He is sweet as he looks back. "How awful and cliche would it be if I said it was complicated?" I laugh at my own statement because it's pathetic and true. The words 'it's complicated' seem weird when I say them out loud.

"Is it him that makes you sad, or do you make yourself sad?"

My hands stop massaging the dye in his hair, my eyes blink slowly, and I'm almost positive my heart stops briefly. I can't find the words to say to Tre. I don't know if I have any words to say. It wasn't a hard question, so why couldn't I answer him? Why didn't I have the answer?

It was only a few words that he had said, but they made me want to cry. Right there, in this bathroom, with green hair dye all over my hands.

Tre rises up from the chair he had taken from the kitchen earlier and faces me. Strands of wet, sloppy, green hair fall in his eyes leaving stains on his forehead. Tre's wild eyes that have only been dancing for the past hour seem to calm. "I'm sorry I said that."

I shook my head immediately not wanting to be the sad girl anymore. "It's okay." All attempts at that, however, are failed when my voice cracks.

I want to look at the floor but Tre won't let me. "Well, the good thing about when you make yourself sad," he begins as he gives me a crooked smile—"is that you can quit making yourself sad anytime you want to."

I hug him. I hug the boy I've just met with a green mop on his head, plaid shorts, and purple hi-tops—and I hug him tightly.

There's a knock at the door. "Tre? You in there?"

"Yeah, Bill! I'll be right out."

Tre gives me a reassuring smile before swinging the bathroom door open. Billie's eyes see right past Tre and lock onto mine. And for the first time, I don't feel like such a ghost when he is looking at me.