High Fidelity

35. jealousy, it looks good on you

Sydney Bay Janes Three days later. . .

"Alright, alright," I said after enough pictures. I looked them over with Chyna, my photographer, and she approved three slides for Instagram.

"Finally," Damian complained about all the selfies.

"Shut up," I snarked, getting him with my instant Polaroid camera.

It was Saturday morning, Will was off and owed me a car wash. He made Chy, Damian, and I come over by noon.

I showered and put on a yellow bikini as he had a pool and hot tub I planned on trying out.

It was a lovely day outside and wanted everyone to enjoy it. So I asked Delaney if she wanted to tag along and then I'd tell Will and Damian to invite some more people and make it a whole thing. But she declined. And although Delaney was depressed over Tom leaving, the vibe in the house was much better, I'll say.

I even offered to wash her car -- well, for Will to-- but she barely made a sound in return, just sat on the couch after not showering. She hadn't even picked up a paint brush in days.

When I tried telling Delaney to move on already, Chyna said she has to go at her own pace. She reminded me not everyone is as strong as me, and that's the truth. I could never be like Delaney or in her shoes. Her shoes are ugly. No, but I'm far too independent to need a man in order to be happy, or basically live.

My mother was Delaney's complete opposite. My mother was smart and headstrong, she talked shit about the Delaney's of the world. I never knew why she was always there to listen and comfort her best friend after a million and one breakups. That's friendship, though, I guess.
Even Chyna said she wishes I had more compassion for the heartbreak shit. I'm not the devil, I can understand a poor girl's pain after some guy troubles, just not if she's dumb. Like Delaney. It's like she puts herself in such situations, she doesn't want a good guy because she likes the drama.

Me, on the other hand, I had a good thing going with Will. . .

With the sun high and shining down heat rays at above eighty degrees, I offered them some lemonade I whipped up. By that I mean I poured the store-bought powder in with water, mixed it, and added sugar to perfection. It would take eighty-nine real lemons, at least, for me to think fresh squeezed/homemade lemonade was good.

Chyna was in her blue one piece swimsuit on the back deck. She sat on a lawn chair taking selfies with a timer and tripod. I offered her a glass.

"There's a bug in your hair and I'm not getting it," I teased, prancing away.

Chy screamed and ran about, trying to ward off the imaginary insect.

Mmph. I shook my head at her, laughing with the tray in my hand. You can take a girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl.

There was my Audi, but no Wilson? I used my free hand as a visor over my brow bone and peered around the yard and driveway. He was no where to be found.

"Will?" I called.

Hearing me, Chyna shrugged to say she didn't know where he'd gone. Huh.

As soon as I turned on my heels, I was blasted with cold water to the chest.

"Will!" I screamed, attempting to chase him before I realized the glasses in my hand.

He laughed with Damian who started wielding water balloons.