Guns & Roses (WATTYS 2017)

eighteen - collaborate & listen

It's raining now. The droplets splashing against my lashes as I frantically attempt to brush them away. 

"You should really invest in a jacket." I can't even see Luka's face from behind my hair, but I know he has some dumb ass smirk on his lips. 

"You should really keep your snarky comments to yourself." 

Childish. I know. But after the day I've had, I really don't care. I had to turn my phone off a while ago because Esther and Zeke kept texting and texting, and I really don't have the energy to come up with more lies. 

"Where are we even going?" I ask, my voice a bit too bratty for my taste. 

"You'll see." 

I finally grab my hair in my hands and tie it behind my head in the messiest bun in history, but right now, I know I look like a mess. 

It fits. 

I always believed that no matter how hard you try, your true emotions will always be shown through your appearance. And right now, the wreck on the outside perfectly coupled the car crash going on inside of me. 

I catch Luka looking at me through the corner of my eye and I turn, meeting his gaze. 

"What?" I snap. 

"You look like hell." He says, attempting to mask whatever snide thoughts he has. He's not doing it well. 

"Oh, I wonder why!" I snap, throwing my hands up. "It's not like some bozo came out of nowhere and tackled me like some fourth string linebacker! And then, refused to get off of me, just getting real comfy on top of me while I lay in the new mud!" 

He pauses for a moment, his expression hard to read. 

But then a smile breaks onto his cracking lips. 

I hate how attracted I am to him. 

I tell myself that it's just hormones, teenage shit. 

But I know full well it's not. 

"Don't worry." He says, looking ahead of him finally. "It's around this corner." I look ahead and see that the concrete jungle we had been walking on has now turned into a suburban wonderland. 

Seriously it looks like someone just ripped a ad out of a 1960s paper and plastered it in front of me. 

"Um, you know people who live here?" I ask incredulously. 

"Yes, gringita. Just because I live a life on the other side doesn't mean that everyone does. This is a place we can discuss important matters safely." 

"Alright." I mutter, highly skeptical. 

The streets are tan and beige concrete with perfectly trimmed lawns. The grass is too green and sees to shine with dew even in the middle of a rainstorm. The houses are painted perfectly without a scratch or a dent, much like the mini vans and SUVs that line up in front of each house, waiting to be driven to some high end corporate job or some yoga class at a local perfect gym. 

It's sickeningly perfect. 

Luka turns up a long walkway that leads to the prettiest house I've ever seen. The white boards that line the walls are perfectly aligned, and rose bushes line the walkway like the entranceway to wonderland. When we reach the oak doors, I see that even the welcome mat is aligned perfectly, the words "Come On In" stitched in the most perfect cursive. 

I must be in a dream. 

Luka digs into his pocket, and with a slight jingle, pulls out a light blue key, and places it into the lock.