how to make a mixtape :: mgc (fin.)

2. mixtapes & extroverts

i thought it would b appropriate 2 mention tht valeria can suck my ass - delilah
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We settle in the living room, legs crossed and a mixtape playing. I've lost track by which song it is. Michael's already began to speak.

"So, what are your names?"

Alejandro turns his head to stare at him. If he had hair long enough, he would flick it behind him. I push a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, looking at my striped socks.

His voice drops a few octaves. "My name is Alejandro." He glances at me, resting a hand on my spine and continuing, "and she is my little sister, Maricruz." Retracting his palm, he shoves me until I look up. His gaze is locked with Michael's, and he curls his fingers to wave. I question his sexuality, at times. "But you can call me Ale, darling."

They break into laughter, and I shake my head, lining my finger along the budding strands from the hickory carpet. Extroverts - I don't understand them.

Interruptions cut End of Me into beaten quarters and gnawed at the loose ties of my sanity. I listen to my mixtapes in solitude for this very reason - the ability to hear the lyrics. I name each CD after a word the songs all share in the lyrics, and this one so happens to be 'perfect' -- though that is definitely not the correct adjective to describe right now. More than anything, I listen for the chosen word all the time, but with Alejandro and Michael throwing around conversation, the song seems like a low drone behind them.

Michael looks at me and says something, but I've turned the volume too loud to hear. I shrug and sit back with my knees pulled to my chest. The sound of my own voice makes me nauseous. He lets out a gust of breath, stands up and heads for the bathroom. Alejandro observes me, a dark eyebrow raised.

"Why don't you talk to him?"

"Because I don't talk." The response comes mechanically. We've had this argument countless times before.

"And why is that?"

"Because my voice is uglier than you."

He pushes me, so I fall on my back and roll on the floor. I recover and sit in my former position, further from Alejandro. His chin dimples as he frowns. "He's a nice kid. Be social."

"He made me drop my Té-A on myself," I say tightly, "I refuse to befriend him."

"Wimp."

"Idiot."

The bell chimes from the front of the shop, and we both look at each other. Neither of us plans to stand up to attend to a customer. I shove Ale away, not for him to glower at me and kick my leg as he did, but to answer the door. He does, though, anyway, and appears in the living room with Ashton flanking him. I haul myself to my feet, clasping my hands in front of me. My chest burns. I'm goddamn angry.

He starts towards me, and I step back. Rooting himself in front of Alejandro, he begins, "I broke my promise and I feel like a total twat. I'm sorry, Mari. I didn't mean for you to be alone on your birthday." He reaches for my fingers, but I tug them away. His skin on mine doesn't feel good, right now.

I set my jaw and fold my arms. I'm sure I seem like a toddler on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Ale always said I'd start a hissy fit like this. "No, Ash. It's perfectly fine I had to spend my birthday with my brother and a customer who pitied me enough to stay with me. It's perfectly fine you stayed in your girlfriend's flat for seven months while on your 'business trip' and chose her over me when you finally came back, but like, who cares, right? It's not like I needed you here, or something." I open my eyes and front him. My throat is tight and my vision floods. "It's not like I had nobody to talk to properly for almost a year and was scared I would be sent back to Colombia, because why would I do that?"