My bloodsucking best friend

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tears sting in my eyes as soon as I've shut the door behind me, but he's not worth it, so I blink repeatedly to force them to stay where they are and don't dare to roll down my reddened cheeks. A few minutes in miserable loneliness pass by that I spend wondering where the hell I left my phone, and then a hesitant knock on my door interrupt my chaotic thoughts.

I know it's him and a part of me wants to open this door, but another one doesn't, and there's also one that can't even explain itself why Andy is here in the first place and not trying Kamasutra positions in the other room. Unsure what to do, I don't move at first, very much to Andy's dissatisfaction. "Lily?" he whispers with his lips against the door, a quiet sound tickling my ears, and I close my eyes and ignore him because I don't know what I would be supposed to say to him if I opened this door.

There wasn't even any blood involved and their upper bodies were covered with the blankets, so why did this bother me so much? I was never pleased with Andy's hookups, but it was always his annoying thing I forced myself to get along with and didn't really care about as long as he was able to keep the noise down. But this time was different. Thinking back to entering his room less than half an hour ago, my stomach wants to ridden itself of all of its contents. I never felt this sharp sting in my chest when seeing Andy with a different girl before. What is it about Jess that drives me so crazy? Or what is it about him? He has been showing off a lot more since we got here and he's been both more provocative and intolerably childish, but other than that, he's the same arrogant dork I've always known. Just a little worse.

Is it because we're back here? Because every corner and every street sign brings back another memory I'd rather not think of? Am I still holding regrets because of everything that happened?
I don't know, and I can't decide whether that's a blessing or a curse. Maybe it's both.

Maybe it's still because of the incident before we left. Maybe the fear stuck with me. Maybe a part of me is still afraid and refuses to trust him again.

All I know is that all of my feelings regarding Andy are one big hot fireball and they want to explode any second.

I still haven't made a choice regarding Andy's presence in the hallway, but his immature impatience makes it for me and as I open my eyes again, I find him staring a few feet away from me with an expression unreadable that resembles a lost puppy out on the streets. I don't feel sorry for him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" I spit, surprising both of us with how rude I am, but I'm glad I can resist the urge to start apologizing because I can't give in. I was never one to care much about pride in oneself, but this time is different because giving in would make me the weak one of us.

"You're the one who wanted to talk," he slowly says, his eyes wandering around as he seems to question what he's supposed to do with his body, and to show him that I won't let him sit down next to me on the bed, I sit cross-legged and spread my arms next to my sides to take up as much space as possible. "You should have noticed that I changed my mind."

"I did." An inner debate occurs for an unmeasurably short amount of time and he sits down on the cold floor sighing. He can't get cold anyway; it's just uncomfortable.

"So why are you here and not with your girl?" My voice has its sharp edge back that I should probably make use by speaking the murderesses and bitches in audiobooks.
"You know she's not my girl," he avoids my question.
"You were fucking her," I bring it up once again.
"I fuck a lot of girls," he casually replies and I find my body tensing and my eyes finding the door handle, but keep my confidence.
"If that's what you want to talk about, then you know where the door is," I tell him instead.
"Why are you so sensitive all of a sudden?" he asks the exact question I am not able to answer.
"I'm not!" We both know I'm lying, but there isn't much else to do.
"Yes, you are," he notes and we spend another distressing moment in a silence so loud it rings in my ears. The next question is one that completely throws me off the rails. "Are you on your period?" I stare at him in total shock because I expected a lot of bullshit from him, but this crosses a line.
"No, I'm not, and don't you dare start with that sexist talk," I snap and he looks offended although he's obviously the one using my sex to invalidate my emotions.
"Sexist talk? I'm not..." he starts and I refuse to let him give me this crap.
"There is no such thing as a period brain," I declare. "It's one of those things men have made up to..."
"Of course there is. Every woman who is on her period is..." he interrupts me and I go full force now because I can't deal with this level of stupidity tonight. His liaisons are one thing, but generalized sexist talk to oppress women is another. I talk so sharply now that even Andy doesn't have the guts to stop me this time.
"Changing levels of estrogen, progesterone and testosterone do not affect the prefrontal cortex of the brain which is the area that controls memory, judgment and the ability to do things like multitasking. Cognitive performances are not and have never been disturbed by hormonal changes caused by the female period."