Here Comes The Sun

fourteen

july 12th
toronto

I HESITANTLY TOUCHED THE SATIN HUGGING MY BODY, and by the slightest connection of my fingertip with the fabric, raging anxiety plundered my mind and stole the positive thoughts. You're trying too hard, it spoke to me, tight dresses make you look fat, and besides, it's not like anyone is going to notice you anyway. All that time I thought I had embraced my insecurities, but running from them didn't mean overpowering them. I closed one eye and inspected the eyeshadow on it – the soft pink enhanced my brown irises. The lip gloss made my lips appear bigger and luscious. The waterfall décolleté of my nude, satin dress gave my innocence away and made me look much more mature than I was. Maybe a bit too mature. The fact that I was dressed up on a Friday night was rather rare.

I escaped my room before I'd regret the dressing up game, and walked off the stairs to ask my mother's opinion, but once I had reached the living room, she wasn't there. I called out her name, but she didn't respond. The hospital must've urgently needed her, I thought to myself, yet it wasn't soothing; it reminded me of when I was younger. I had never liked the fact that I saw her more often at the hospital than at home. My dog Dart Vader curiously walked up to me when he saw me standing in the middle of the living room looking a little lost. He sat down in front of me, two big eyes contently looking in my direction, long tongue licking his own nose.

As bad as I wanted to bend over, the angst about my dress getting ripped apart held me back. Before I could figure out a way to pet Dart Vader, the doorbell rang. Reluctantly, I faltered towards the door, and looked at Miles' silhouette behind the dark windows before opening up. I already figured that he had done his hair nicely, considering no plucks protruding his coupe.

"I can see you, you know," he yelled.

I knew. Just didn't care.

After opening the door, he casually walked in holding a bottle of expensive looking wine and vodka in his hands. I hadn't noticed that in his silhouette.

"I thought we were going to the club?" I asked.

"What, sober?" he asked, placing down the bottles on the kitchen island, where after he turned around to look at me.

"Isn't that the point?" I walked up to him and leaned onto the counter across from him.

"First of all, you look beautiful, second of all, only normies go sober to the club." He pushed a hand through his blonde locks, hiding the lost strand that danced in front of his face. "Look, if you go to the club sober you won't enjoy your full club time there, because you have to get tipsy there. It takes too long! It's so much better if you get tipsy before you go to the club, so you can get drunk at the club. Makes perfect sense, right?"

"That's not just going to get me tipsy," I looked at the bottles, "that's going to get me alcohol poisoning."

Not much later, I was sober in the club. I sat on a barstool, looking at everyone and trying to not mind the horrible air embracing my body and filling my nostrils. It was sweaty, sticky and hot, a variation of factors no one wants to feel in an overcrowded space. Miles, on the other hand, had surrounded himself with people he probably didn't even know, and moved across the dancefloor with both eyes closed, still the dimples surely were there to adorn his face. His sweating had resulted in his hair being pressed against his forehead, and I couldn't really see whether he was still wearing his loose blouse or not. I enjoyed seeing him having the time of his life, and it even led to a contented smile on my face.

Suddenly, someone yelled something into my ear. I turned my head to face a guy grinning at me. He seemed less sweaty and sticky than the other ones beside me. "What?"

"I asked who's going to be your victim?" The second he saw my confused facial expression, his grin quickly was replaced by genuine laughter. "You're looking at them as if you're a serial killer looking for their next victim!"

I just laughed in response. Thousands of things flew through my head to form a clever answer, but all of it were held back by the barricade that also held me back from doing things such as these; going to a club. Social activities required having to talk about non-medical things to strangers, and there was nothing interesting about me at all. I never knew what to say, and I hated myself for it.

"Alright, alright, I know it wasn't the best pick up line, but you don't have to ignore me like that." To my surprise, he was still laughing. About himself. I appreciated that.

"I'm not ign-" then I saw something that shocked me. Miles intensely looked into a guy's eyes who grabbed his collar and pulled him in to passionately locked lips. "Oh my God."

The guy beside me scratched the scruff on his chin, and turned his head to see what I was looking at. His brows frowned, and he leaned in to make sure he was seeing it correctly, then raised his brows. "I hope that's not your boyfriend."

"He isn't," I said, "but I didn't know he was . . . well, whatever, who cares?"

He looked at me. "What about you?"

"What?"

"Well, first of all; why aren't you drunk? And second, are you gay?"

I chuckled. "I'm not much of a drinker and yes."

"You- what?" he stared at me with two big blue eyes.

"You asked me a question and I responded," I shrugged.

He looked up and down, couldn't believe what I said. I wasn't gay and he knew that, but I just wanted him to leave.

"So you fuck girls, eh?" he asked after manning up.

I raised one brow. Is he really going to ask what I think he's going to ask?

"What if I find us a girl who wants to fuck us both?" he proposed. I nearly vomited.