Soola's POV
I kept staring at the phone for about five minutes before bringing myself to put it down and focus on my studies for now. Even though I was dating the most perfect boy in the world, it would probably be for the best to balance out our relationship with our studies. The only problem was: it wasn't balanced at all. If the work-life balance would not take place, perhaps it would be better to put this relationship to the side.
Before making any impulsive decisions I might regret later, perhaps I should wait for him to come around; it will get better.
He has done so much for me; maybe I will get Blake a gift for our anniversary tomorrow. That is one date he must not skip. There's no way he would. Blake is focused, but not quite maniacal.
I sighed dreamily, texting all my friends how amazing my life was with Blake, so they could feed into my delusions.
A part of me was longing to escape reality, which did not seem so bad at first glance. The deeper you dig, however, the less knowledge would be desired (or whatever).
Later that day,
I three-way-called Pneudonna and Charlotte to drool about cute boys, gossip, and engage in very cliche girls' sleepover talk material.
"Oh my gosh, Soola! You will never believe what happened today!!" Charlotte exclaimed.
"We have so much to catch up on; I have the juiciest story in existence right now— holy crow."
"Why can't I tell her?" Pneudonna huffed. "It's my story to tell, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I tell it better."
"Let Charlotte tell me," I urged. "She's a better story teller."
In response, Pneu scoffed on the other line, and I had to suppress a giggle from the way she was overreacting.
Charlotte gave us this long monologue about how Pneudonna used to be single and lonely, but then suddenly got a boyfriend last week who was helping to bring her grades up in all of her classes. I had to admit that I was quite impressed; any guy who could bring her grades up and do it with a smile on their face was just absolute gold in my book. I did not, however, say that out loud, for my better judgment did advise me against it.
"So cuteeeeee," I cooed. "Pneudonna, girl I am so happy for you."
"Thanks," she gushed. "I kept telling you guys that getting a date in two weeks would be a piece of cake for me, the rizz master."
"We always believed in you," Charlotte lied. "You just have a natural charm about you that men find irresistible."
"Fuck off, bitch," she retorted. "I'm calling the bullshit on that here and now. You said almost the exact opposite of what you are describing right now over this phone call. And you couldn't be any more insincere. How rude!"
Charlotte and I couldn't suppress our laughter anymore and began cackling like the freaking witches of Macbeth over the cauldrons of "double double toil and trouble"(or something like that).
"You motherfuckers are so annoying," she chuckled herself. "I'm hanging up on you bitches. Adios!" And without hesitation, she actually hung up on us.
"Drama!" Charlotte retorted, despite the likelihood of Pneudonna never hearing that message.
"Such a prissy priss!" I teased.
"And ya curse like a sailor!" We both cracked up for about ten minutes straight before Mom got annoyed and ordered me to do my chores to get me off the phone, which I had to do if I didn't want Dad to scold me, which would have gotten ugly if he did.
"Right, Charlotte. That's my cue. Let's chat later."
"K; imma try and get more dirt on this mystery boy while you are occupied with that.
If I learn anything on who this guy is, I'll be sure to share.
"By, luv!"
"Bye, bestie! Keep me posted!"
Blake's POV
I put on the most masculine-smelling cologne I could find as I added the finishing touches to my dapper outfit and smoothed my hair out one last time before feeling satisfied.
How dapper! I grinned to myself. Perfection!
Lolivia will absolutely adore me in this outfit. I don't think I could look more stylish if I tried; Blake, you have really outdone yourself.
Perhaps my lonely sense of men's fashion will be a good influence on humanity, or just the male population as a whole; from man to man.
I face called my favorite of the girls I was dating, hoping that she would not bail on me, the way I usually did to girls I lead on, but was not interested in. Although I would be getting a taste of my own medicine, it would still upset me greatly.
External validation to me is exactly like candy: it's bad for you, but so addicting.
"Hey, charming. Ready for our date?"
The confidence and charisma she displayed was astonishing and admirable, certainly. I nearly found myself competing for charm, which totally was proposing a challenge in my book, and I adored it. Quickly, I gathered myself and my manners, so that I could appear as sophisticated as possible.
Lola seemed to catch on, because she started giggling, and requested that I loosen up.
"Did you like my hairstyle yesterday during the food fight?" I joked.
"Oh yes," she replied sarcastically. "That was so hot on you.
"The combover middle -aged-man -bald hairdo -as a last resort looked especially sexy— the look totally suits you; you should keep it!"
I almost choked on my water because of how true the sarcastic statements were.
To be honest, I have used a similar type of humor many times in my own life, so I understood the mindset perfectly.
"You are such a smart ass!" I blurted out.
"Better a smart ass than a dumbass!" she hollered. "If it's too hard a concept for you to understand, I can always dumb it down for you, but I'll need a translator since I am not particularly fluent in the language of Neanderthal."
"Hey!" her mom scolded. "Be nice to your boyfriend and watch your mouth, or I'll wash it out with soap! You and your brother curse like a sailor! I won't accept such foul language in my household."
She walked away almost out of earshot before muttering, "smart ass."
"Gee, I wonder where I get it from," Lola grumbled.
"Gosh, what a double-standard," I joked when her mom was out of earshot. "It's alright, babe, my mom does it too."
"That's lovely," she said dismissively. "Let's try to go early so we have more time to spend there. I'll text you at my arrival."
"Alright, babe. I'll see you there."
"Take care."
Even until the last moment of saying goodbye on the phone, she is so confident and free; why can't Soola be that way? Why can't my other girls be that way?
I put the small cologne in my jacket pocket, laced up my polished shoes, and strode out the door, with the confidence I wanted to project to Lolivia.
Challenge accepted, Lola. Let my competitive streak shine tonight.
