Trust // a.i

| two |

"Okay, can we all just decide on a god damn film to watch before I slap one of you?" Lola exclaims amidst our arguing on the couch, her laptop perched on my crossed legs. I scroll through the list of films I plan on watching that I keep on my phone, but my taste is a little different to theirs.

"Why can't we just watch a horror film like normal people?" Michael groans and Lola reaches across me to swat his arm. I grab her laptop just before my lurch to avoid her attack sends it falling to her expensive cream-carpeted floor. Her house is relatively new territory as her parents don't actually want their angel to be friends with Michael or I, or for either of us to cross their threshold. They left on a "business trip" two days ago, so we decided a change of scenery and a new fridge to raid would be ideal. 

"Normal people don't watch scary shit all the time, Michael. Just you," she says and he grins as he throws a piece of popcorn in the air and catches it in his mouth.

Michael and Lola are probably the only two people I could actually consider my friends, but they're all I need. They're completely different, black and white, always bickering, leaving me to be the referee which I quite enjoy in a selfish way. They both need me to pick their side; sometimes I choose Lola, sometimes Michael. But mostly Michael.

We finally settle on Fight Club, which happens every time the three of us try to watch a movie together. We all argue over whether it should be a rom-com, a horror or an eighties classic, and then we finally give in after a good half-hour of arguing and watch Brad Pitt and Edward Norton fight for the hundredth time. Between the three of us, we can almost recite the whole thing.

After watching and analyzing the film, we sit at Lola's marble kitchen island eating cereal. Lola bangs on about some guy in her French class who won't give her the time of day and Michael and I just throw each other looks at various intervals. As Michael gets up to bring his bowl to the sink he rolls his eyes and Lola catches him.

"I know you don't want to hear this and you'd rather go play Mariokart or smoke or something but I'm struggling here. I need help! I can't stop thinking about him?"

"It's really not that hard. You just distract yourself and tell yourself it's not worth wasting your breath on someone who won't look at you like that," Michael says evenly. Something in the way he says it makes me think I should ask him about it later, but I know he'd brush it off as nothing. He would make a stupid joke, we'd laugh and I would forget about it for a while. It would stay at the back of my mind, but I wouldn't ask him again because I'd frustrate him. He's all about teen angst and all that when he's not acting like a child and actually playing Mariokart.

"Just find yourself a new project like you always do," I suggest. Lola looks mildly offended but I ignore her.

"Is Luke coming to visit this week?" Michael asks as he props himself up onto Lola's counter, and I'm grateful for the change of subject. Michael and Luke have only hung out a few times but they're practically in love. They're so obsessed with each other it's exhausting, but I secretly love the fact that my best friend and my brother get along so well. Two of the people I love most in this world.

"Maybe I should go for him instead," Lola proposes with sickening sweetness, propping her chin onto her hand and batting her eyelids at me.

"Don't touch him," I retort, only half joking, and she positively cackles.

Lola knows she could have Luke in a heartbeat. She's one of my best friends yes, and I love her dearly, but Satan has more of a chance with Luke than Lola where I'm concerned. Lola's gorgeous and she knows it. She has curves in all the right places, a glowing natural tan that makes people think she's Puerto Rican, long, silky-smooth wavy auburn hair and emerald green eyes that seem to sparkle with mischief when she spots something, or someone, she wants. She goes through boyfriends like I go through books; almost too quick to register what happened. Lola would break Luke's heart. She looks for sex, while I get the feeling Luke would look for real love, if he ever actually spoke to women. He wouldn't bother with casual dating or fucking around.

"I'm trying to persuade him to come visit, but I don't know if he will," I tell Michael. "Could you talk to him? Try and change his mind?"

"Way ahead of you," he grins down at his phone, already typing out a message.

I finish my cereal and walk over to Michael at the counter to stand between his legs. I wrap my arms around his torso purely because of his deep loathing for affection, and I can practically feel Lola's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as he rests his chin on my head. His deep loathing for affection from anyone but me, I should have clarified. She's so clingy and desperate for affection and constant touching, which is partly the reason why Michael is like this with me. As if he doesn't infuriate her enough.

"I've got to make tracks, I don't want to leave Dad home alone for too long," I announce and Lola grins.

"More like you have too much of The Walking Dead to catch up on." It frightens me when people know me that well.

"I'll FaceTime you later," Michael calls as I walk out the front door.

"Text me!" Lola shrieks as I'm about to close the door, and Michael's shriek in response is barely audible as I close it fully.

I sit in the Supra for a minute, waiting for the car to warm up. The cool early October air signifies the oncoming winter, and I curse myself for being such a cold creature. I'm never really warm. I drive through the lamp-lit streets, already looking forward to seeing Dad. It's rare for me to be in such good spirits.