A F F E C T I O N

t w e l v e

ok listen to that piano it's astounding i could have cried it's so nice.

*

I've never been to Annabel's house before tonight, and I feel an entirely irrational hatred towards the perfect glass vases and identical picture frames.

Maybe I just hate her. And you. But not really.

Christian's hand is around my waist possessively, and I stroll towards the kitchen island where the alcohol is. Christian wanders off to find someone. You're by the sink with your casual half-smile and your white button-down.

I love that shirt. It just glows, perfectly bright as creased, against the dusky skin of your neck. You laugh at something a tall, basketball-player girl says and tip your head back to sip your drink. It's in a cup but I'm sure it's not beer - you'd never touch that cheap crap.

I'm not sure where she is, probably dancing like a common white girl with her common white hoes. Did I really just say hoes?

The tall girl leaves and you look at me. Really look at me.

Then you say, "What are you doing here?"

"You invited me," I reply.

"You're not drinking, are you?"

"What's it to you?" I reply, immaturely. Christian wanders back.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey." You say.

"Lets dance." He says. So we do.

He's not the dancer you are, and you're really average a best (at dancing, I mean.) He grinds against my hip like he's in a clubbing movie and I roll my eyes.

I left my cup in the kitchen with your worried, judging gaze. Hypocrite. That's what you are, with your sly smile and your gin. What kind of seventeen-year-old drinks gin anyway? That's what my grandfather drinks. A gin and tonic, dear boy.

Someone rakes their nails across my arm, the one slung around Christian, and I look up. Annabel has her arms raised and her eyes closed. You're dancing with her. Smiling at her. Laughing. Letting her spill beer as she twirls.

"Hey," I whisper to him. He gazes at me with hooded eyes. Pretty eyes. "Want to go somewhere?"

Your eyes follow us through the living room. As I open the door and look over my shoulder, your lips are pursed like you want to say something but can't.