Illicit Affairs

twelve. playing around

The next day, I'm woken up by the loud sounds in the form of songs in the room. I rub my eyes, and try to get used to the sudden brightness before I look aroud for the source of the noise.

Of course, it's Aria. She has a small speaker plugged into an outlet, and music playing out of it. She's dancing around in her seat, while working on something on her computer.

It's cute to see this side of her. The side of her that seems to only be present when she thinks no one is watching.

I don't want to interrupt her right away, so I quietly do my morning routine. I put clothes on, visit the bathroom, and I finish applying some light makeup on.

I expect to find that Aria should be done with her music by now, but she isn't.

I decide it's time to speak up.

I cough loudly, and say, "loser."

She instantly turns the speaker off, and stops moving around. It's still early morning, but she's already in a full outfit. A loose grey shirt and denim jeans.

Her signature red lipstick shade is gone from her lips. Her bare face is both beautiful and annoying at the same time. It's annoying because it belongs to her. The most annoying person on this earth.

She tells me, "shut up. You're just jealous."

"Hm, jealous of what exactly?" I tease.

"Um, my fantastic dance moves. You wish that you could do what I do."

She flips her hair dramatically, and I tell her, "I saw nothing. You're not very good at dancing you know."

Her mouth forms into an o-shape, and she huffs loudly, saying, "bullshit! You're lying."

"I'm not!"

She rolls over to me on her chair, and tells me, "i'd like to see you do better."

"It's too early for this!"

"Hm, I think you're just afraid," she teases playfully.

That's it.

I throw the blankets over to the end of my bed, and I quickly get up. I don't even bother feeling embarassed, because all I'm focused on is proving myself to her.

She turns the music back, and I start. . . Well, I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is that Aria is laughing and I'm singing along to the tasteless songs. I'm moving around like an idiot, and when the song is over, I stick out my tongue at her.

  "There! I'm better than you," I declare.

"That was the worst thing I've ever seen in my life," she says.

I can see the spark of joy in her eyes though, so I question, "alright, is it your turn now? Let's see what you can do."

She responds with, "I can do so much better. Trust me."

With that, the next song starts playing. She starts shaking it off, and dancing around the room. She has no idea what she's doing, and I don't know either.

She starts chanting, "I am better than you! I am better than you!"

I use my only weapon.

I practically shove my middle finger in her face like some immature kid.

She pauses the song and says, "who's the childish one now? I think I won."

I don't know what we just did, but I do know that she won. She had some form of choreography while I looked like a bird trying to get out of its cage. And definitely not in a good way.

"You won," I say in agreement.

"What? I can't hear you. Say it louder," she says mockingly.

"You won!" I say loudly.

"There," she tells me, satisfied with winning this mini competition.

"Whatever. You won. It doesn't matter."

Although, I really wish I had won. Just to make her shut up already.

"I fucking hate you so much," I tell her.

"Aw, we both know you don't actually mean that," she teases.

She leans in closer to me, and boops my nose like some kind of child. I roll my eyes, and she steps back, telling me that I'm lucky to be her roommate.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyone would be so lucky to be woken up by your annoying music!"

"Celeste, I know that you love it. Don't be shy, admit it," she says with a clever smirk on her face.

I can feel my face turning red, probably because of how annoying she's being. Definitely not because she makes me feel something that isn't feeling annoyed. I try to shove the feelings of light butterflies in my stomach away, and I allow my sarcasm to come through.

"Why don't you just admit that you love annoying me?" I ask her.

She responds with, "okay, fine. I do love annoying the fuck out of you. I'm not ashamed of that!"

I feel shocked, since I wasn't actually expecting her to say that. I don't get why she does that. Most importantly, I don't get why I like that she does that.

Before I think of anymore stupid thoughts, I decide to tell her, "I have to go!"

"Yeah, sure. By the way, you look nice in that outfit."

Her eyes trail over me, and I look down at my plain clothes for the day. I've worn this a thousand times, but it seems as if she's barely started paying attention. Again, my cheeks are likely red and match how strong the feeling of annoyance is inside of me.

I mumble a lame thank you, since I'm not quite sure what response she quite wants.

I'm usually at a loss for words around her.