Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

30

30
A strange yet somehow well accustomed-to smell burns into my nostrils and makes me curse in my now disturbed sleep.
A stifled giggle reaches my ears, followed by cold burning sensation at the tip of my finger.

I jolt awake pulling my hand away, sending Anastasia flinching back with a hand over her chest.
"Jesus!"

I look down at my hand, the pinky and ring finger painted in some patchy black nail paint, still shiny and pungent from the fresh application.
"Oh, fuck no Ana!"
I whip the blanket from over me. "Fuck no!"
I really wanted those extra minutes of sleep after somehow managing to stand straight and trudge back to the room just to crash in bed last night.

"I saw everyone had painted their nails yesterday, even guys! I just wanted to try it on you. It looks cool!" She tries to reason but I am already well beyond irritated.

"I am not doing it!"

She raises one eyebrow. "If I don't finish all the nails on one hand, it's going to end up looking ridiculous."

I look at my hand again, the non-uniform coat of paint and sigh in defeat. "Fine!"
If letting her paint my nails are what grants me a few more moments of not getting up, that is a gamble I am ready to accept.
"I will need another coat of paint for opacity, just so you know."
"Just - get it over with!"
"Okay then." She pauses to give her bottle a nice shake. "Can I do your other hand then?"
"No!"

I feel foreign, dangling and swinging back and forth between the fine line of lowkey admiring the Anastasia-approved manicure and keeping my eyes on the road until the obnoxious traffic at E Balbo puts our car in a halt and my conscience at ease.
We arrive after sundown, laid back and free of the initial day's hurry.

Anastasia makes me wait until she touches her lipstick up in the rearview mirror.
I watch her carefully yet rhythmically glide the ruby red lipstick across her chapped lips, tiny flecks catching in the cracked skin and her overlapping to make up for it and make sure there are no bald spots left behind.
By the end, she turns to me and smacks her lips and ends up laughing at her own antics.

Middle schoolers typically leave after dark, all of them under curfew rules and that is also typically when the festival gets much livelier.
The alcohol settles in the bloodstreams, the blood flows warmer in the veins and inhibitions crumble away.
It almost feels like running into a warm hug and have it caress the very fabric of your soul.

Friends do not hesitate to hold hands and tell each other they love them. Lovers mask themselves in with the crowd and lose each other to one another, chest to chest, forehead to forehead.
I see the sides of Ana's cheeks swell up and she sighs.
I meet her thought from the other end of the spectrum.

Sometimes you enjoy beauty without yearning to possess it yourself. You are just glad you were there to witness it unfolding.

We stand a few feet away from the crowd, watching the lights and taking the energy in. I feel my perpetual guard around people loosen and it does not instantly make me nervous.
It's okay, I tell myself. You'll be fine.

"Where to?", Anastasia asks after a while.
"Remember? We are with the crew." I put my hands up.
In all honesty, I am too exhausted to embark upon yet another expedition.
I feel the gratitude rise from as far deep as my bones when Anastasia smiles and agrees to go along.
Maybe she understands. Then again, none of this would have happened if she had refused to ride my erratic wave. So I guess there are more of things I should be grateful for.

"I thought you had your fill of Lolla!", Will shouts over the bass when I walk into his booth.
I smile, too burnt out to shout over the jarring loudspeakers and just shake my head.
Our spot from yesterday had been left untouched.
"There is a new artist starting," Will says, "I think you will like her."