More or Less

Chapter 8 • Careless

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Alisha's POV

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My eyes were on the screen, but I wasn't really watching it. My thoughts were clouded with Brandon. It left me extremely distracted. Stephon's hand remains resting between my thighs the entire time. Whenever a scary part pops up, he grips them tight.

My phone vibrates, but it's continuous. A phone call. I pull it out and discover that it's Brandon. I didn't save him as a contact, but I immediately recognized his number.

"Who's that?" Stephon asked absently, his eyes glued to the screen.

"It's Ma." I quietly lied, standing up. I surprised myself. The words just came out. A reflex. I didn't even think about it.

"I'll be right back," I told him. I scoot down the row before he can object. I exit the theatre room and accept Brandon's phone call.

"I'm surprised you picked up," He mused.

I breathe. His voice sounds a little sluggish. A little dragged.

"You're drinking?" I asked as I lean against the wall.

"Smoking," He corrected,"You know I don't drink during the weekdays."

"Things change."

"Chickenbutt knows you're on the phone with me?"

A moment of silence.

Why is it so hard to answer that simple question? Do I lie, or tell the truth?

Brandon chuckles humorlessly.

"I guess that's a no," He stated.

I roll my eyes, "Why did you call if you knew I was here with him?"

Now, it's his turn to grow quiet.

"Because..." He quietly said,"I can't stand the fact that you're there with him."

I close my eyes,"Brandon..."

"I regret a lot of things--" He began in a bitter tone.

"Don't," I begged.

Oh, I can't hear this right now. Last thing I want or need is more confusion.

"Go to the bathroom," He commanded. Then, he hangs up before I can reply. My head instantly snaps up.

The bathroom? What's in the bathroom?

I look back at the theatre. I turn on my heel and open the door. It was the logical thing to do. To go back and watch the movie with Chickenbutt. But, I take one step past the door ... peer inside, and turn on my heel.

I speed-walk towards the bathroom. I feel so bad. As if I was committing a crime. When I finally reach the last corner, I've probably looked over my shoulder about a thousand times.

I peep around the corner. I guess I expected to see him there, but I don't. I take small steps toward the bathroom, looking around every way. My paranoia was past the ceiling. One nerve is strung out on Stephon, and another is wrung out on Brandon. In a way, I didn't want to see neither.

I peer into the bathroom. There's only one because it's unisex. It's vacant. Not a single teen-aged soul was in sight. I step inside and nearly die when I see my reflection in the mirror.

Am I that paranoid?

Then, I hear it. A voice. It's very faint. So faint, I thought I may have imagined it. It paralyzed me to the very bone.