May Kill Me

Nine

I turned away from him the second our eyes locked and that smile...

That cocky smile that reeked of privilege and entitlement. It was as if he was saying 'look what the cat dragged in.' As if I was the one who wasn't supposed to be there!

I had to get out of there and put as much distance between us as I could.

"Hey, O, wait up!"

With his long legs and wide strides, it didn't take Jonathan long to catch up with me.

I didn't bother stopping, though, pretending I didn't hear him.

"Oceane!" Jonathan had the audacity of grabbing me by the arm, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.

I froze, shutting daggers at his hand around my wrist.

Jonathan followed my gaze, his eyes turning a shade darker as he removed his hand, almost reluctantly.

"I called you." He explained, eyes going up and down, scanning everything from what I was wearing to my face.

"You look good." He said.

I could almost hear the '...' in that sentence. Did he expect me to return the compliment? Because he looked good, too.

Well, he looked like he did a few months ago on graduation day.

Dressed in slim-fit jeans and a cable knit sweater, Jonathan was the picture of New England preppiness.

"What are you doing here?" I asked pointedly.

There was no point in wasting time on pleasantries: the last person I'd ever expect to see here was my ex, and what he should have done was ignore me, like a normal human being.

Jonathan leaned back, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I'm Scott's friend. What are you doing here?" He shot back.

I had no idea who this Scott person was. I mean, I did know a Scott.

Scott Garza, but according to his Facebook, he's attending Akron. And as far as I knew, the two of them weren't close.

"I'm here with my friends."

Jonathan nodded as if my answer is satisfactory.

We face each other off for a few moments, meeting for the first time since the breakup, on neutral grounds.

"So how's community college been treating you?" Jonathan asked this very casually, waving a white flag.

But I knew exactly was he was doing; being condescending.

He could have just asked how's college is. Instead, he inserted the 'community' into the sentence, probably in an attempt to remind me what I have passed on, how beneath him I was.

This was where I could have said something along the lines of Me? I'm doing great! College life is amazing! I'm making so many friends. I feel like I'm really growing and coming into myself as a person.

That, however, would have sounded very try-hard, very insincere.

Besides, I was never enthusiastic about anything, and Jonathan was very much aware of that trait in me.

"It's no NYU, but I like it," I say, adding a shrug.

Jonathan was about to say something when a cry is heard from the living room area.

He craned his neck to see what was happening, and I mimicked him in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

"That's what you get for stealing other people's boyfriends, you cunt!" A girl with a werewolf mask on her head cries out as she's bounding down the stairs, a thick chunk of blonde clutched in her hand.

She's followed by two more girls, one in a Pennywise mask, and the other with a hoodie and Guy Fawkes leering back at the crowd.

A tan girl ran after them, her face stricken with tears and the side of her head completely bold.

"You fucking bitch, Abigail! You really think I can't tell it's you underneath that mask?"

The howling came from a guy wearing nothing but boxer briefs, Ralph Lauren.

His entire face and torso were covered in electric red paint.

"I'll get you for this!" He screamed at the girls, running his hand over his face.

A bad idea, as the paint spread over his face even more.

Guy Fawkes ran towards me, grabbed me by the elbow, and pulled me with her, giving Jonathan a small wave as she yanked me towards the front door.

***

The four of us are at a bar, not a great bar, but one that doesn't mind serving alcohol to underage drinkers.

The beefy bartender doesn't even bother asking for our IDs as he pours four shots of tequila.

"My god, what an asshole!" Abigail brought her shot glass up for us to cheer.

"To asshole!" Andrea clinked her glass against Abigail's.

"At least they entrain us!" Krista followed.

"Do I even want to know what happened?" I asked, gingerly picking my shot glass off the sticky bar surface.

The three girls exchange looks and burst into laughter.