“I have a boyfriend.” Roxanne stated matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t common knowledge. Her bangs mostly covered her eyes that always remained fixed to the ground. Her hands were stuffed into her deep pockets, hiding her chipped red nail polish. She asked me earlier in the morning to walk her to the train station once classes were over, and like any old fool in love, I said I would.
“You must’ve told me this twenty times already, and yet, you’re still here with me.” I glanced over at her, sliding my arm around her shoulders. Her body tensed up at my touch, and I felt her shoulders shake, trying to shrug me off, and I gripped her shoulder.
“Rox,” I spoke softly, “Calm down.”
Roxanne’s dazzling heterochromic eyes bore into mine, her full lips contorted into a small pout. Her expression right then said more than she ever could put into comprehensible words.
Not now. Not here.
She walked two steps ahead of me, like she always does. Whenever I said something, she had to look at me over her shoulder, but usually, she just ignored me. She waited for me to swipe my card at the turnstile, tapping her foot exaggeratedly. Once the small screen read I had one ride left, Roxanne pushed me and I almost fell over the cold metal bar. I glanced over at her to see her staring at me with wide eyes, stifling her laughter.
“I-I’m so sorry,” She choked out between snickers.
“It’s alright,” I mumbled, “I’ll get you back for that soon.”
Roxanne scoffed and brushed past me after hopping the turnstile to scramble downstairs to catch the approaching F train. “Yeah, right.” I chased after her, rushing to keep up with her and her long, tan swimmer legs.
---
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Roxanne growled. Her eyes were glued to the large flat screen hanging on the blue wall of her room. All four walls were decorated differently – the midnight blue one held the TV and the entertainment system (including her game consoles), the soft pink one was completely plastered over with posters, collages, and artwork Roxanne had made herself, the pastel blue wall was littered with frames and photographs taped on, with the bed pressed up against that side, and the lavender wall had a dresser, vanity, and the door.
“It’s not my fault you suck at this game,” I chuckle and lean against her shoulder to piss her off. She made a guttural noise that sounded like a comeback and a scream got stuck and jumbled in her throat. “Seven Nation Army” blasted through the room – Roxy’s so rich, she has surround sound in her room.
After thirty minutes of shooting down Roxanne’s character and Roxanne verbally abusing me (“I’ll tell you where to stick your controller–”), I walked to the entertainment system and ripped the plug for her Xbox out of the outlet. She let out an ear-splitting screech and stared at the black screen.
“Dumb-ass,” She scowled, hitting my thigh with her open hand, “We just lost all our progress.”
“You mean my progress,” I ruffled her hair, “Because you were pretty much just kissing the dirt.”
“Alright, shut up,” She laughed, pulling her soft chocolate brown hair into a messy ponytail, “Just because I’ve known you since I was five doesn’t mean you can comment on my gaming.”
