Azalea

Azalea was my best friend's girl.

I know what you're thinking. Why? It wasn't like I woke up and thought, hey, let me throw away one of my closest friends for some girl I barely even know. It's so much deeper than that. It's a lot deeper than that.

I met her at a party at Phillip's place. I should have stayed home and cleaned my apartment, since it was getting pretty messy, but the promise of lots of booze and pretty girls was honestly more appealing than a bottle of Comet and soapy water. He said that there was someone he wanted me to meet, so of course I assumed that it was for me, because he wasn't the dating type.

I think, during our entire ill-fated friendship, I have only seen him date seriously maybe once or twice, and even then it didn't last very long. There were lots of people I knew and lots of people I didn't know (friends of friends of friends I may have known) and the beer was warm and I remember looking for Phillip because I wanted to meet this girl, whoever she was. (Silly me.)

I was in the hallway when this girl bumped into me and spilled her drink all over me and Phillip's already stained carpet.

"Oops." She shrugged, biting her lip. "I didn't see you there."

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to tell her off and make Phillip get me another shirt because I obviously couldn't meet her in a dirty shirt. I wasn't going to do my laundry until after work the next day, and I only had one clean shirt left and maybe a clean pair of pants, if I wore a bigger sweatshirt to cover the pasta stain. But I couldn't be, because she was so pretty and her eyes were so big and calm and she seemed so nonchalant about it, like it wasn't a big deal at all and she spilled her drink on unsuspecting strangers all the time.

So instead I stood there with my mouth hanging wide open like a fish out of water and looked at her stupidly, laughing like an idiot as I told her that it was really no big deal and that it'd be fine.

And then she asked me what my name was and I said, "Kibum," like the genius I am.

No one calls me Kibum but my parents, and I don't talk to them very often because they're so far away.

"But most people call me Key," I blurted out after, embarrassed.

"I like your name." I don't know when she had taken my beer, or if I had given it to her or something, but either way, she took a gentle swig (everything she did was, for the most part, pretty slow and gentle), not breaking eye contact. I should have been furious. First she ruined my shirt - and I really kind of liked that shirt - and then she took my, albeit warm and kind of gross, beer without even asking (or maybe I gave it to her I don't know). But I wasn't, and that was what confused me. Who was she? "I'm Azalea, like the flower."

"That's a nice name." She smiled a little, pushing her hair over her shoulder. She was wearing a shirt that at one point must have been a pretty nice t-shirt until she cut the sleeves off and made it into one of those horribly trendy shirts that had sleeves that let you see someone's sides. Her bra was black and lacy and there was something on her ribs, not a tattoo - because I'd know one when I'd see one - but like a bruise or something weird, awkwardly painful and blotchy.

And, of course, I want to be nosy, and I ask her what happened to her.

"Don't worry about it." She shook her head and looked around, and then her face fell a little but not really, and I wondered why.

Until I saw Phillip, anyway.

"There you are!" Phillip exclaimed, pushing through the crowded hallway to where we were. I was going to say hi and yell at him about the terrible drinks, but then he kissed her, like with tongue, and then smiled that sneaky slimy smile - I loved the guy but his smile was weird, I don't know - and introduced me to his girlfriend, "Azalea."

I wondered - briefly - if Phillip had done something to her, but then shook my head free of those thoughts because he was my best friend and I'd know if he had and I knew he hadn't because he was too lazy to ever raise his hand to anyone. Right?

Right?