How We Are: A MFM romance

Mini-golf

Ezra

Cain smirks at Dominque as she hands him another joint. His eyes are red, his body lax, a grin on his face. They lounge on the fake grass, passing a bottle of Pineapple vodka back and forth. It's fucking 3rd grade again. Pineapple vodka. He hasn't touched flavored vodka in years. Since he was prepubescent.

"Yeah it's getting late," I murmur, my arms crossed. "We have to open tomorrow—"
"Come on Ezra, take a load off," Dominique calls, slurs really, drunkenly jolting the liquor toward me.

I narrow my eyes. I like Dominique. She's sexy and a very good lay. She's fun, and peculiar and quirky. But she's infectious. And she is spreading like a fucking rot.

"Alright big guy try this one," She hands him a wrapper, trying to teach him how to roll a blunt. Like he doesn't fucking know. Or like he needs to. He doesn't do drugs, any of them, but when he does on the rare occasions, I get them. I tell him to. And I roll it for him.

"Yeah you might not know this but he already knows how—"
"What like this?" Cain asks, letting it unfurl a bit. "Can't get it. Do it for me."

Dominque raises her brow expectantly. Cain glares just as expectantly before sighing. "Please."

She pats his head—pats his head—like he's a fucking dog. Like he's a regular guy. Like he's tame.

"Cain," I try again.

"Oh fucks sake, Ezra. Why you so high strung? You love this shit."

"Yeah but you don't," I stand.

Cain scoffs and narrows his eyes. "What?"

"Since when do you smoke, or drink more than a glass—or say fucking please or play mini golf or let people tell you you look anything but fucking pissed? And why the fuck are you talking so much?!"

Cain looks between my eyes for a moment. "Ezra...it's just one night. Can't I be happy for one night?"'

I scoff. "Why can't you be you and be happy."

Cain stands, steadying himself, touching my shoulder. "Because I'm a deeply miserable person, Ezra. I can't be happy and be me. It's why I never do any of this stuff. Just reminds me of everything I can't be."

I narrow his eyes. Is he fucking expressing his feelings is there no end to this fuckery? It's her. It's fucking...her.

When I look over she's looking at me. She looks...sober.

"It's your fault. You...ruined him. Look at him! He is not your little toy. He's not a muse or some pet fucking project. He doesn't need you to change him."

She looks at me calmly. "All I did was invite him to mini golf. I didn't change anything."

I scoff. I knew there was something off about her from the moment we met. She wanted him, and i could tell.  "You're ruining him. This is Cain. He is a violent, meticulous, savage. He does not play mini golf with little rich girls with nothing better to do than to try to reform a thug."

Cain looks away and sighs.

Dominque darts between the two of us. "Look, I wasn't trying to sew discord. I just...wanted to have some fun."

"Well he's not fun. He doesn't laugh and he doesn't talk and he doesn't say please, or roll blunts or smoke them or drink that drivel. That's just...not Cain."

Dominque purses her lips. "Is that not who he is? Or not who you want him to be?"

I smile and lick my teeth feeling calmness take over me, my body going loose. Oh...i am so glad she said that. Because now I'm gonna slit her throat, and this entire mess can just be over with. We can bury her and this...fake that she created, together and me and Cain can move on. The real Cain, the one my whole life. He looks at me, suddenly sober.

"'S just go," He murmurs, standing, taking my hand, dragging me away from her. I smile.
"Really?" I ask softly.

He just nods, and continues dragging me to the car. Dominique doesn't call after him and he doesn't look back. I lean onto his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're back,"

He clenches his jaw. "Yeah...who was I kidding? Me? Happy? What a joke."