Falling to Flying

Chapter Fourteen- Nervous Intentions and Matching Outfits

“Alright, that’s it,” Mel slammed her hand down on the counter where I was eating breakfast.

“Wauft?” I hissed with some cereal spilling out of my mouth.

“Are you going to tell me? Or am I going to have to punch you in the boob?” her green eyes were ablaze with some serious irritation.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” I choked a little on the fruit loop going down.

“Cut the shit, Ana. I’m your best friend and I know- oh I damn well know- when something is up,” she sat down across from me and pointed her perfectly painted fingernail at me.

I sat there for a moment trying to understand what she was saying. “Mel, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said confused.

“Argh-Neil! I’m talking about Neil!”

I put on my best poker face.

“Yes? What about him?” I took a sip of my water, trying to hide my face.

“You like him.”

I then spit my water and proceeded to really choke this time. Mel wasn’t fazed as she cooly wiped my saliva/water droplets off her cheek.

“You. Have. Feelings. For. Neil.”

“I do not!” I rasped out between coughs.

“YOU SIT ON THE THRONE OF LIES.”

I just gave her a look.

“Sorry, Luca and I watched Elf last night,” I rolled my eyes at her sheepish expression, “but I stand by what I said. You’re a liar. And you know what they say-”

“Liars go to hell?”

“-liars are just beautifully wrapped boxes of shit,” I rolled my eyes again and got up to put my empty cereal bowl in the sink.

“Mel-”

“You’re a box of shit.”

I sighed.

“Half of your wardrobe smells like Neil, you’re always smiling-like always- when he’s around, you practically skip your skinny ass to work everyday, I mean, you went to a football game for him!”

I sighed again.

“I have a longer list if you want to hear it,” she offered. I leaned against the sink, mentally cursing myself.

“Damn,” I murmured, “I guess-” I sighed, preparing myself, “-yeah. I like Neil.”

Mel started squealing and dancing around me, which consisted of her rubbing her hands all over my hair and teasingly waving her hips around like a drunk hula hooper.

“Alright, alright. I admitted it. Go away,” I grumbled before making my way to my room.

“Oh my god, Ana. You need to ask him out!”

“What?” I whipped around in my doorway.

“Ask him out,” she grinned knowingly at me. Her hair was messy and her eyes were bright with excitement. My roomie is kind of cute in her oversized sweats and large hoodie hanging off of her with her fuzzy slippers.

“Isn’t that...the guy’s job?”

“Girl,” she put on her serious expression, “it is the twenty first century. Who cares about social standards? I say you go do your hair for once, maybe throw on those jeans that make your butt look good, grab a pair of balls on your way into work, and ask him out.”