Azalea

So Rooney lied and the bar was actually one of those trendy nightclubs that everyone loved and I wasn't exactly a big fan of because dirtbags (like Phillip - who I had classified as an A+ dirtbag after what had happened earlier that afternoon) liked to hang out there, and I liked to avoid dirtbags.

Rooney and Phillip looked like the double-mint twins, stupid tight v-necks and expensive jeans and brand new Nikes (don't scuff the Nikes, bro) and those god-awful faux hawks. I threw up a little in my mouth. Willow looked nice, I guess. I don't know. I didn't care. Hope came to get down in a tight shirt and even tighter skirt and heels that looked like she'd be paying a trip to the emergency room in if she moved as much as a single step. And then there was Azalea, with him, in a very loose black shirt - god save the queen - and black shorts that hugged her body - have mercy - and tights and those boots, and she looked so out of place (like she hated clubs as much as I did and it was wonderful) that I couldn't help but to smile, a little.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone - she was with him and Hope seemed to like me despite my disinterest - so I put on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt and some shoes. I combed my hair. (I needed a hair cut.) I think I looked pretty okay.

After a long line, we managed to get in. It was dark, and flashy, and loud, and smelled like really strong liquor. I didn't like it, like I knew I wouldn't. I would have left, but I couldn't. I had to see what would happen with Azalea and try to keep Hope at arms' length. Willow wanted to get shots, but Hope wanted to get a booth, so we sort of stole one after this group went to dance and get drinks. Oh, well. I was sitting between Hope and Willow, and Azalea was sitting between her stupid boyfriend and Hope.

Willow asked a passing bartender - who Phillip drooled after shamelessly (moments like those made me wonder how we became friends at all) - to bring us all a round of shots please. She clapped her hands giddily and I was about to ask her if she had come here before when Hope put her hand on my thigh. I almost jumped, surprised. Instead, I just looked at her. She smiled and bit her lip - poor girl - and I wanted to feel bad. Really. She was nice, and pretty, and seemed normal, but Azalea was mean and rude and interesting and beautiful and I just wanted to get to know her and protect her from Phillip and I couldn't do that with Hope hanging around, but I didn't want to tell her to go away either. That would be rude and I do have a heart.

So I sat there and got kind of felt up under the table and waited anxiously for our drinks to come. Azalea kept looking at me with a questioning glance, and I felt guilty for some reason. She wasn't my girlfriend and Hope was just some girl who liked me a lot. I didn't know what to do. And every time I looked at her Phillip shot me a look behind her head, arm draped casually behind her as he narrowed his eyes. It wasn't long before the bartender came back with a tray of drinks - thank goodness - that she set down slowly while Phillip did all but rip her shirt off.

I needed a drink.

So I grabbed mine and was about to down it when Willow and Hope shouted something about toasting. Azalea grabbed her drink, held it up, and toasted to "being happy" before downing hers in one fell swoop. She puckered her lips before leaning into the wall behind her, almost shrinking away from Phillip.

Hope was still trying to finish her drink - it was just a shot and it really wasn't that sour - when Willow's song came on and she just had to dance. I groaned quietly. If Willow was dancing, that meant Rooney was dancing, which meant Phillip was going to dance with Azalea - because, as you know, dirtbags travel in twos - which meant I'd have to dance with Hope because this was her song too. I followed after Hope with a small frown, feeling uncomfortable with her hand wrapped around mine because Azalea can see us. I don't know why her opinion or lack thereof matters so much to me.

So we start dancing. I really don't like the feel of Hope's body against mine. She's a nice dancer, I guess, but her hair smells too fruity and it clashes with her perfume and the fabric of her shirt is too itchy. And there's nothing to hold on to and she keeps trying too hard and I don't know what she's trying to do. Azalea keeps looking at me with those questioning eyes again and I don't know what to do. I can't walk away from Hope because I know she'll make a scene and I've never been good at trying to console someone in public. But I don't want to dance with her anymore either and I find myself in a very awkward predicament. Phillip is saying something to her and she's not listening - she's so blank and expressionless that there's no way she's paying attention to him and it makes me slightly happy - and he's holding her flush to him and I want to be mad at him but I can't be because he found her first and that's my best friend's girl.

"You're such a good dancer," Hope sort of whispers and I think she's trying to be sexy, I don't know, can't tell, and she starts playing with my hair and I want to swat her away because Azalea looks so sad. I bite my lip and mumble, "Thank you," before losing Phillip and Azalea for a few seconds. I make a face. "What's wrong?"

I look down at her - she's so small - and I smile, shaking my head.

"I'm fine."

I'm just kind of sort of in love with Azalea, not really but it feels like it and I feel like I'm leading you on and I can't -

And then I see them again, and Azalea looks so distant and uncomfortable that it takes all of my will not to tear her away from him because she's not mine and she probably won't ever be. But it's okay, because Willow and Rooney call us over to decide who'll get the next round of drinks. Phillip and Rooney jump at the chance to go (probably to go leer at that poor bartender), leaving me alone with all these girls.

Wonderful.

Azalea watches Phillip for a few seconds before turning back around and picks at her shirt. Willow and Hope go to the bathroom to "powder their noses". They invite Azalea, but she declines politely, shaking her head. And then Azalea drags me to a dark corner while a new, slower song starts - one of those couple ballads that has everyone grinding on each other at a slightly slower, more measured pace - and holds onto me, resting her head on my shoulder as we sway slowly.

"I - "

"Don't ruin it," she said softly, nestling her face in my neck. It was like a sensory overload: I could smell her and feel her and touch her and see her and she was just everywhere, jasmine and honeysuckle and softness and roughness and I didn't want to leave the corner, I wanted to stay there with her and pretend we were alone and tell her I knew and that I was sorry and I was going to stop him, one way or another I'd make him stop and she'd be okay - darling you'll be okay - but I couldn't, because nothing lasts forever and I didn't want to waste the few minutes I would have with her. She plays with my hair and it's different, softer and more welcome, and she doesn't pull the way Hope does and she's got me, she's got me hook, line, and sinker. I wonder if she knows. "It's nice."

"What?"

"To be held like this."

"Oh."

She hums, pressing herself into me and I don't know what to do, what to say - I wanna kiss you really badly I'm sorry - but then I see Hope and Willow looking for us - that was fast - and the moment ends (I'll replay it over and over again on those nights were I can't sleep). She meets up with them and goes to the booth. I trail behind them and sigh, biting my lip. And then Phillip's got his arm around my shoulder, and I feel bad, but I shouldn't, because he's all talk and no game.

"You'd stay away from her if you know what's good for you, yeah?" he says in a way that brokers no argument. I nod and he claps me on the back, shoving a cold beer in my hand. "You're such a good friend."

I laugh cheaply and sit down with them, and Hope is in my lap for some weird reason and it makes me uncomfortable. So I excuse myself, of course - I'm trying to be subtle - and go to the bathroom. The line isn't really long, and once I'm inside, I go to the nearest sink and splash my face with warm water - they don't have cold, for some reason. I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head, then pat my face with some paper towels. It'll be okay. Tonight will be okay. I spend a few minutes telling myself this and ignoring the weird looks I'm getting because they don't know anything.

But then I walk out of the bathroom and see Azalea and Phillip, and he's pinning her to the wall, and she's telling him to stop - please - and then he slaps her, hard, and something in me just snaps. I don't know where it came from. I'm not a violent person. I'm really not. I didn't think it through when I grabbed him by the shoulder and started yelling at him.

"Keep your hands to yourself, huh?"

"Dude!" Phillip exclaims. "Mind your own business."

He gestures to Hope, who's sitting at the other end of the bar and waves at me hopefully. I don't care anymore. I'm just pissed at him. I'm mad at him for taking about Trina and her butt and checking out anything with a pair of nice legs and for hitting Azalea and talking down to her and telling people they were just friends when they were obviously more than that and then Phillip shoves me and Azalea's trying to pull him away and tell him to stop. He swats her away like a rag doll and then I swing at him, because he's a terrible person and it's just dawning on me and I'm mad at him for being such an ass.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I ask, holding him by his shirt collar. And then he hits me square in the nose and I'm bleeding and screw it, I'm young, I decide, before giving him what he's got coming to him. I think about everything - Azalea and the sunglasses and the bruises and I'm fine, really, don't worry about me and the wincing and I'm just mad. I'm mad that guys like him always end up with nice girls and nice guys (cough me cough) get girls like Hope, girls without substance and depth.

"Key - "

"Don't Key me! Does it make you feel like a man, huh? Hitting her and pushing her around?" I feel the bones in his nose crack and I don't care because he deserves it. "What the hell's your problem?"

"You don't understand!"

"What don't I understand?!" And then Rooney's getting in between us, pushing Phillip back and shooting me a look. Oddly enough, no one's come to tell us to cut it out - everyone's too busy staring - and then Azalea's dragging me away, out the back door through an alley.