Of Arseholes and Bitches

01 | Of Ashley and Levi

THERE ARE TIMES when I question why I'm even his friend.

"Ash, come here real quick." He had turned his upper body to face me, gesturing for me to go over to him with a slender finger. He was sprawled out on his seat, back to front, with the rear of the seat against his lean chest. Surrounding him was majority of the class. Some stood; some sat on chairs, tables, the floor and even on the laps of others. The room was filled with inharmonious chatter, many in their distinct cliques, others with the rest of the class in the form room. And Levi? He sat in the damn middle.

I weaved and stumbled past people, elbowing and cursing occasionally when they started pissing me off. He still sat there expectantly, a little mischievous grin on his face that got me a bit worried. I swear I saw him say something to Joseph in a hushed voice, and they let out laughs, him and the boys watching as I approached the middle table in our form room.

Finally reaching where he sat, I could barely stand considering the tight circle of people around us, so I plopped my butt onto Levi's lap and shifted around a bit to get comfortable. His hands gravitated towards my hips, and I swatted them away.

"What?" I asked him with a hint of annoyance in my voice. I don't mind male attention, but it was like they were were staring at me, their beady unwavering eyes following my every action, mouths pooling with drool like rabies infected dogs. I shouldn't have worn my lacy red bra today — the white shirt of my school uniform is quite transparent, to say the least.

"Tell them what I told you last night."

I blinked a bit at the randomness of his question, but I attempted to answer nonetheless. I pondered over what we talked about last night over text. I just remembered, and I let out one of my freakishly huge smiles, trying to stifle my laughter.

"Oh yeah, you were telling me about the rash on your dic—"

His hand flew over my mouth, and I could already imagine the look of panic etched on his face, and that just made me burst out into laughter. I pried his fingers away with haste, wanting to continue what I was saying as the boys watched attentively, slight frowns on their faces in confusion.

"'A huge fucking red thing on my ballsacks,' you said. You even sent me a nude just to—"

At this point, Levi was laughing with me as well, most likely at my reaction rather than the story itself. I couldn't even finish my sentence, the tiny red blob on his testicles flashing through my mind.

"No," Levi let out through a small strangled laugh, "not that. How many girls have I been linking with right now?"

"Oh. That." I rolled my eyes subconsciously at this. I would call him a fuckboy, considering the amount of girls he's managed to trick into spreading legs wide open for him, but he actually does get into relationships, which means he isn't completely heartless. He's not the typical fuckboy, who complains about 'commitment shit', like his friend Nathan. I know that from experience.

"Five girls. Or maybe six girls you're linking with?" At my words, some of the boys surrounding hooted and slapped Levi on the back. Other weren't so happy with what they'd heard.

"Bullshit."

"Why is it always him?"

"What do those bitches see in him?"

Some whined, either in disbelief or jealousy. I laughed at the spectacle they were creating, people from other tables glancing over to see what was going on.

And in the midst of the commotion, Levi pulled me a little closer to his chest, telling me in a genuine voice, "Don't worry; you're my best friend and you're a lot more special than any of them lot."

Despite the fact that I wasn't upset about his slutty ways, I did find myself letting out a breath of relief.

"Of course I am. You love me."

He laughed and ruffled my hair.

And then I remember why I am his friend. He's an arsehole; and I like that about him.