Billie's POV
Aren't girls the worst?
I mean, on one hand they're an amazing facet of human being, they have a beautiful insanity about them, some sort of strangeness that I just can't understand along with that way they walk, that way their leg connects with their hip that is so seamlessly natural. On one hand they're just like me, or any other, as just a homo sapien with nothing really different besides fluctuating hormones and whatever current social pressure deems them to be.
On another hand, they're horrible. Flitting mysteries with perverse, cold minds and meaningless hearts and I came to this conclusion around about lunchtime when my best friend had just informed me that he was going on a date.
"Whoa, no way buddy!" Tré exclaimed as he slapped Mike on the back, who was grinning from ear-to-ear. I quite frankly didn't know what to say; well what COULD I say? I had no right, there was nothing solidified or even mentioned between Annabel and me. And yet there I sat under the grandstands, cursing myself for not having any cigarettes, cursing myself that I had given them to someone who probably didn't give a shit about me, cursing myself for being angry at my best friend for no good reason and cursing myself for whatever bizarre feeling had leaked into my chest and made it hard to breathe.
But all I did was smile and give a thumbs up. He glanced at me for a moment, as if gauging my reaction.
"You don't mind Bill?"
I could have said a lot of things then and there, but when I saw the excitement shining in his eyes and I remembered that this was Mike. Mike who had done nothing but be there for me, stick up for me, listen to me, be behind my every step. Mike who who was there when my father died, Mike who was there when I wrote my first song, Mike who put ice on the black-eye I had earnt from my step-dad, Mike who had never asked anything of me and who never expected anything. And I realised what an absolute asshole I was and swallowed that confusing cluster of emotions and said:
"Of course not dude. We're just friends."
And that was that because now I had established something in this relationship, that we were "Just Friends" (JF) and that was that because that's all we ever would be and that was that because this was the happiest I'd seen Mike in a long time and that was that because I owed him this, if nothing else.
And he grinned, ruffled my hair and drank his chocolate milk as we all fell into our usual conversations of music and jokes and surviving high school.
....
I saw her at the end of the day, in the hall, by her locker. My first impulse was to run, as if I was some sort of criminal, as if she could see into my mind and noticed all the strangeness that had churned around up there concerning her the entire day. My second impulse was to yell at her, which was plain stupid because she had done nothing wrong. My third impulse was the one I acted on.
"Hey, can I bum a smoke?"
She turned around, slightly confused until those sapphire eyes met mine. She noticeably relaxed, then smiled, which made me realise she had a dimple, only in her left cheek.
"Sure, luckily I have just acquired a whole heap of them."
We didn't speak as we went out the back of the building, by the dumpsters. She rummaged through her bag for a moment before pulling out the cigarette box and my lighter. She passed them to me, and I opened it, skimming over the number.
"18 left."
I handed her one before I put one into my own mouth and lit it. I thought she would reject the offer but instead she brought it to her lips, letting me lean in to light it. I handed them both back, answering her question if I wanted them back with a shake of my head.
We were in silence for a while, just watching the smoke swirl around in the open air. I glanced to her, and noticed for the first time how tired she looked, the bags under her eyes, the heaviness of her lids.
"I heard you're getting a coffee with Mike." I asked as a sort of ice-breaker.
"Yeah, he wanted to show me a bit more of the town."
I nodded, acknowledging her absence of eye-contact.
"That's cool. He's a great guy." I tacked on.
She looked at me then, her eyebrows furrowed.
"No, not like that. Just as a friendly gesture."
I didn't really know how to respond, my head racing, so I just did a sort of "oh" and took another long drag.
"He didn't think it's anything more than that did he?"
I shrugged, hoping to plead ignorant. Part of me, the selfish part, wanted to say yes in an effort for her to potentially cancel her plans with him, but the actually decent part knew not to injure the pride of my best friend. She was still waiting for an answer, so I spoke.
"I don't know. He asked if it was ok with me, I think he thought something was going on between us..." I saw her looking at me in the corner of my eye, and quickly added "I told him that we're just friends."
She didn't say anything, just dropped her gaze. I felt sick all of a sudden, the last two words of my sentence ringing through the air still.
"I didn't mean to lead him on or anything. I can't see myself being with anyone." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she still wasn't looking at me. Her words got my attention. A sort of relief and... disappointment, mixed with unbelievable curiousity.
"No?"
"Too easy to get hurt."
And all I saw was her eyes that had turned colder than the fall wind biting our skin before she dropped the cigarette and left without another word.
