Status: completed
But You're Not Mine.
twist around the lounge
Girls and boys couldn't just be friends.
Noel was soft, wale skin stretched over ice-dry bones. Her breasts were the same size they were when she just starting middle school; they stopped growing just before her thirteenth birthday. Her collarbones made up for it; they were soft and prominent and a basin of hallow bridges. Her hair was a striking contrast, black strands laden over a snowy complexion. There was a time when she attempted to bleach it so that she could dye it pastel pink. It did nothing but break and strip of moisture; therefore, she was left with an orange color on the end of her black strands.
Her lips were forever chapped and she never carried any lip balm with her. Perhaps she preferred them that way. They were always split and bruised and red. She did nothing but wet them with orange juice and the occasional glass of alcohol. Her voice was velvety and warm and one would think that she was a product of two forbidden lovers of the '60s. She probably was.
Her bruised knees were pulled against her chest as space looked out the window from where she was propped in the corduroy armchair, smoking a cigarette. I watched her careful movements. She exhaled, her lips pursed in the shape of a faltering oval. "Everett," she started. I listened at the sound of my name. "Do you ever feel like life is passing you by? All of my, our, friends are progressing. They're getting somewhere."
I didn't answer her. She was talking to herself more so than she was talking to me. I could tell by the distance of her voice.
"They're marrying and having children and graduating college; I'm wasting spare money on cigarettes and drugs because I can't control my nightmares." She paused and wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand. "And all I've got is a shitty boyfriend that only keeps me around because - "
" - because you're a beautiful girl with a lot of potential. You're the only girl I know that can get completely wasted on a week day and wake the next morning as if you were never drunk. You're the only girl that I know that can still manage to be attractive after she neglected to shower for three days. You're a fuckin' phenomenon, did you know that?"
Noel sighed and exhaled through her nose. "Everett," she said. It felt like she inhaling oxygen from the part of my lips. "I'm not being your fuck buddy. I belong to someone else, y'know."
I stood up, limbs heavy and eyelids flighty, and made my way to the bathroom. My body felt heavy and my ears were stuffed with cotton. I pulled open the cabinet, searching for painkillers. The emotions, the feelings, everything was too much. Noel was too much. She had to know. She had to know what I felt for her, what she did to me. There was no fucking way that she didn't know.
Noel was like cocaine, in the most literal comparison. Every inhale was another step to death, another love letter of departure. Fuck, man, she wasn't even the fuckable type of pretty. I wanted to do nothing more than fill in her hollow spaces with myself, with my adoration for her. I wanted nothing more than for her to be acknowledged as mine.
I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and swallowed the last three dry. I could deal with her. I could deal with her snarky remarks and sarcasm, but not today. I was already in enough pain from the lack of sleep and food and love. She wasn't helping today. I wasn't numb nought today. Not yet. Because the cocaine had done it's job, created the illusion of cloud nine before sweeping it from underneath my feet and leaving me in the dark.
With a sharp exhale, I tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before walking back into the main room. I took a cigarette from the pack Noel had laid on the coffee table and used her lighter before sitting down on the couch. "If you aren't going to be my fuck buddy, could you at least put a bra on? You're not leaving much room for imagination."
Noel and I were simply friends, but how long did we really qualify as friends if I wanted to fuck her? How long could we qualify as simply friends if I wanted her to succumb to me in which she did for him? Did it even count? How long? Because I wanted her but she wasn't
mine.
Noel was soft, wale skin stretched over ice-dry bones. Her breasts were the same size they were when she just starting middle school; they stopped growing just before her thirteenth birthday. Her collarbones made up for it; they were soft and prominent and a basin of hallow bridges. Her hair was a striking contrast, black strands laden over a snowy complexion. There was a time when she attempted to bleach it so that she could dye it pastel pink. It did nothing but break and strip of moisture; therefore, she was left with an orange color on the end of her black strands.
Her lips were forever chapped and she never carried any lip balm with her. Perhaps she preferred them that way. They were always split and bruised and red. She did nothing but wet them with orange juice and the occasional glass of alcohol. Her voice was velvety and warm and one would think that she was a product of two forbidden lovers of the '60s. She probably was.
Her bruised knees were pulled against her chest as space looked out the window from where she was propped in the corduroy armchair, smoking a cigarette. I watched her careful movements. She exhaled, her lips pursed in the shape of a faltering oval. "Everett," she started. I listened at the sound of my name. "Do you ever feel like life is passing you by? All of my, our, friends are progressing. They're getting somewhere."
I didn't answer her. She was talking to herself more so than she was talking to me. I could tell by the distance of her voice.
"They're marrying and having children and graduating college; I'm wasting spare money on cigarettes and drugs because I can't control my nightmares." She paused and wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand. "And all I've got is a shitty boyfriend that only keeps me around because - "
" - because you're a beautiful girl with a lot of potential. You're the only girl I know that can get completely wasted on a week day and wake the next morning as if you were never drunk. You're the only girl that I know that can still manage to be attractive after she neglected to shower for three days. You're a fuckin' phenomenon, did you know that?"
Noel sighed and exhaled through her nose. "Everett," she said. It felt like she inhaling oxygen from the part of my lips. "I'm not being your fuck buddy. I belong to someone else, y'know."
I stood up, limbs heavy and eyelids flighty, and made my way to the bathroom. My body felt heavy and my ears were stuffed with cotton. I pulled open the cabinet, searching for painkillers. The emotions, the feelings, everything was too much. Noel was too much. She had to know. She had to know what I felt for her, what she did to me. There was no fucking way that she didn't know.
Noel was like cocaine, in the most literal comparison. Every inhale was another step to death, another love letter of departure. Fuck, man, she wasn't even the fuckable type of pretty. I wanted to do nothing more than fill in her hollow spaces with myself, with my adoration for her. I wanted nothing more than for her to be acknowledged as mine.
I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and swallowed the last three dry. I could deal with her. I could deal with her snarky remarks and sarcasm, but not today. I was already in enough pain from the lack of sleep and food and love. She wasn't helping today. I wasn't numb nought today. Not yet. Because the cocaine had done it's job, created the illusion of cloud nine before sweeping it from underneath my feet and leaving me in the dark.
With a sharp exhale, I tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before walking back into the main room. I took a cigarette from the pack Noel had laid on the coffee table and used her lighter before sitting down on the couch. "If you aren't going to be my fuck buddy, could you at least put a bra on? You're not leaving much room for imagination."
Noel and I were simply friends, but how long did we really qualify as friends if I wanted to fuck her? How long could we qualify as simply friends if I wanted her to succumb to me in which she did for him? Did it even count? How long? Because I wanted her but she wasn't
mine.