Intertwined

Indie

I felt like I was going to faint.

Not in a good way. Not that I could see how fainting would be a good thing, but just so no one gets the wrong idea.

I had a date with Trey tonight. Yikes. It's was a Tuesday, which is really weird, because as far as I know, first dates don't usually happen on Tuesdays. But Trey works a lot, like a lot, a lot, and his nearest day off is today, which just happens to be Tuesday.

Plus, it's not as if I've gone on a lot of first dates, (if any), and so I don't really know the difference. Also, my mom's not the conventional mother, and she doesn't care (or won't notice) if I'm out late on a Tuesday. The only one who would care would be Summer.

Which leads me to another problem; Summer's still monumentally pissed that I came home high. Whoopsies.

Anyway, I'd talk to my friends about how nervous I am, but I don't have any. I'm not going to tell Ryland, because how awkward would that be? Talking about how nervous I am about the date I'm going on with his close friend. Which brings me to Summer, who I can't talk to because she'll probably just tell me in a million different ways not to get high or drunk or anything considerably bad.

I almost called Kinley, because what have I got to lose? But then I recalled Summer mentioning something about the weekend at her dad's, and I've known Kinley long enough to know not to even attempt to go near her for at least a week after she encounters the dick.

So then I'm again left with no one.

That is, until I remember that Megan programmed her number in the other day, and after thinking 'holy crap, I have Megan Heart's number programmed in my phone!' I texted her.

She told me I could come over to her house as long as I didn't mind the smell of spilt beer and cigarette because her apartment apparently reaked of it. I got in my car and was already on my way over, because anything was better than the still, mocking silence of my house. I wished I didn't ever have to go back, but then I realized how unappreciated I was being and knocked on wood.

As I gradually approached Megan's neighborhood, I mentally noted how I was now on the 'wrong side of town,' that my mom always told me not to go to. Well, if my mom wanted to punish me for this, she'd have to talk directly to me, and we all knew that wasn't going to happen, so I wasn't worried.

"Indie!" Megan exclaimed in greeting when I finally made it up to her apartment. She was dressed in sweats and a tanktop that showed her pierced midriff, and her face was free of all makeup. I wanted to scream in frustration that even in her natural element, Megan was still a million times prettier than I was, when I was at my best.

Some people are luckier in their gene pools than others, I remind myself.

"Sorry you'll have to slum it this afternoon while I get you made-up for your date," she apologized, leading me into the apartment. It smelt like stale coffee and smoke, but it would be easy to ignore with all the nerves in my belly.

"I'm not slumming it!" I argued, shooting her a look. "It's more like you're slumming it just by being with me," I corrected. Megan lead me back to her room, where piles of clothes were littering the floor and bed. The room was cramped to say the least. Her walls were covered with posters of all kinds, as well as snapshots scattered around the free spaces.

"Oh please," Megan scoffed. "Is Miss Richie-Rich feeling sorry for herself today?" I couldn't tell if Megan said it to insult me, but I didn't take it to heart, because I liked how Megan didn't sugarcoat what she said.

"Not particularly," I shrugged. I fingered an old photo of Megan, Trey, Caden, and Ryland. Sometimes I forgot that they've been friends for much longer than I've even known them. In this particular photo, they looked about a year or two younger, and looked very carefree and elated. Megan was sporting bunny fingers via Caden, who was grinning down at her. Trey's tongue was stuck out, but Ryland had appeared to have pushed him, so they were both also in mid-laughter.