Mariah

Bad At Love

I watch her lips ruin his in a feverish kiss, their bodies fused together as they devour each other. His hands locked in her dark hair and around her thick waist. My heart aches wondering what it would be like for me to press my lips against hers. For me to be in his place, with my arms wrapped around her body holding her tight on the stairs as on goers pushed by.

But instead there I watch from the sea of crowded people that litter this house. The party has turned into a rager as pimply teens getting sweaty as they grind on one another. Getting high or drunk in the process, dancing to the obnoxiously loud EDM music. But my eyes stayed glued to her. I can't do this anymore. I can't torment myself like this. I bet she doesn't even feel guilty kissing other people the way that I do. She has clearly moved on, and now I am left to do the same not even knowing where to start or what to do.

Downing what was left in my cup, I pushed past the throngs of teenagers all cramped together in this house for a small get together that turns into half the school showing up to the nearest bathroom. There is already a small line forming by the time I get there. But being the bitch that I'm known to be, I push the girl heading in out of the way shutting the door in her very confused and pissed off face.

I lean against the door for a second feeling the vibration of the girl just outside banging on the door yelling profanities and for me to wait my turn. I block her and the noises of the party out as I run my hands under the ice water of the sink. I would've splashed some on my face but my make up wasn't waterproof.

I picked my head up, staring at the girl staring back at me. Her platinum blonde hair fell in soft waves onto her shoulders framing her face. Her makeup was flawless with highlights in the right places, and blush tinted her normally pale cheeks rosy. Her eyes, a vibrant arctic blue color, stood out against the darker makeup that surrounded her eyes, and her long lashes were curled to perfection. She looked perfect except for the dull look portrayed in her eyes.

"When did I get here?" I question. The girl staring back at me through the mirror isn't me. It can't be. She looks put together and perfect, while I feel like I'm breaking apart.

"Mariah!" Somebody voiced from the other side of the door, bringing me back to reality. The person who spoke wasn't the girl that she pushed past earlier.

Soon a harsh bang follows.

"Give me a sec! Damn." I yell, whispering the last part under my breath as I turn off the sink faucet. I smooth out the noexist wrinkles on my blue tank top that paired well with my blue skinny jeans and black platform combat boots. I mask my features like always, to not let others know how I really feel.

Putting on my artless smile, I open the door just as Trevor Libby's hand is hovering over where the door one stood, mid knock.

"Hi, Mariah." He says breathlessly managing to catch himself from staring at my breasts, which I didn't bother to wear a bra for.

"Hi Trevor." I say with a tilting my head with a coy smile gracing my lips as I slide out of the way, not sparing a glance at the girl from earlier even when she brushes past me mumbling, "What a bitch."

I am. I am known to be bitch.

"You want to go outside for some fresh air?" Trevor asks, slipping closer to me to be heard over the loud party noise and music.

"Sure," I say, jumping at the contact when his warm hand grabs my wrist, leading me out the back door and onto the well-lit patio. It's much quieter outside, the music can still be heard, but barely because of the rowdy people that surround a beer pong table a little ways from the patio.

"What did you bring me out here for Trevor?" I ask, angling my body towards him.

"You looked like you could use some air." He says shrugging his shoulders.