The Outlaw's Opposite~~Ashley Purdy
I nod quickly to Lindsay and race out the door. “Look, hun’, I’m sorry I dragged you here. I didn’t know it was Jake’s party.” She apologizes, buckling her seat belt in the car although she makes no effort to start the car. “It’s…it’s fine. I mean, we aren’t together. We never were, right?” I mutter back, meeting her eyes and faking a tense smile before letting out a strained chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess.” She responds with a smile, but I can tell hers is also fake.
We drive back to my house in stony silence. I get out quickly and turn to Lindsay. “I’m just going to shower. Why don’t you just go back to the party, okay?” I suggest. “Sure. I probably won’t come home though; don’t worry.” She replies, whipping out her phone and checking her excessive makeup. She smirks, puckering up her lips, at her reflection. “Yeah.” I nod. She offers another grin which I return tensely.
I wait to hear the crunch of gravel under her tires until I allow myself to break down. “Oh, Penny.” I whisper into my cat’s fur, stroking her head. I lazily get up and pad to the bathroom to shower.
I step out of my gorgeous dress, slightly disappointed I didn’t get to wear it longer, and turn up the water. I stand under the showerhead, letting the hot beads of water pelt my bare skin as I sob. Knowing that I honestly have no reason to be so upset that Ashley was kissing some other girl, I tell myself sternly to stop. I can’t though. My tears flow down my face, mixing with my makeup that rushes down my skin.
Taking my favorite apple-scented shampoo down from the top bath shelf on my shower wall, I squirt a mound into my palm and rub it into the length of my hair, straightening the curls out between my thumb and index finger. I rinse away the bubbles and lather in matching shampoo. Next, I scrub my body with cucumber-Dove body wash and turn off the water.
My tears and the hot water completely smeared my makeup, so I take a few cotton swabs and wipe the streaks of eyeliner and eye shadow off my cheeks. I braid my hair on top of my head, letting in drip down my neck. “Dammit,” I curse when I realize I forgot a change of clothes.
I step nude into the hallway and go to my dresser in my bedroom. It’s so old and cheap, the doors stick shut. When I finally get it open, it falls to the floor. Clothes spill everywhere. My calmness disappears in seconds and I snap.
“Fuck!” I scream in anger. “Fuck, fucking-fuck!” I chant, frustration building. Still barren of any clothing, I rake my hands down my flushed cheek and drop to my knees. I stick my hands into the drawer—that split into half when it crashed onto my floor—and toss random clothes around my room. The familiar tears gush down my face, neck, collarbone and all the way down to my breasts, as I wail, flinging a few pairs of jeans to the other side of the room.
One hits Diva. He hisses in shock, his fur raising on his back as he stiffens. He leaps away from the fabric and runs out the door, mewing in surprise. I almost laugh at my wonderful cat’s actions, but instead, I keep crying hysterically.
Eventually, when that drawer (and another one) is empty, my sobs turn to whimpers. I trip aimlessly over a pile of bras and leggings, into my bed. I wind my legs around the heavy comforter, soaking in the warmth they provide.
Soon, all the cats join me, curling up into my side contentedly. I beam down at my loyal pets, letting my eyes close.
I pull away from Kaid. She looks up innocently, her eyes shining. I can taste her cherry chap stick on my lips. Exhaling a happy sigh, I grab her hips firmly and drag her back to me. Her hands reach up for my hair, but she’s too short. Instead, she loops her arms around the back of my neck, moving her lips against mine.
As we kiss, I can feel her skin become warm, a light sweat breaking out. She jitters, standing shakily on her tippy toes. I smirk at her pure excitement and pull back again. “Do you want to go get a drink?” I ask, keeping my hands on her waist. She nods, biting her lip happily.
My mind creeps back to Natasha, wondering if she’s okay. I hate to admit it, but I might have been a bit harsh at the concert. I honestly feel bad, but I definitely don’t want to get involved with her again. Well…
Maybe, we could make being friends work. Could we? As Kaid sips on a fruity-looking drink someone passed her, I sigh, this time not a good kind of sigh. “You all right?” Kaid asks me, raising an eyebrow and looking up from her plastic red cup. “Yeah, yeah. Fine.” I answer, turning my full attention to her. Natasha still nags, at the back of my brain.
“Good, then let’s go get some shots!” She squeals, racing off, tugging my hand. I follow with a chuckle. She arrives with me in tow, at a table lined with sparkling shot glasses filled with all sorts of different alcohol. “How about… we make this interesting?” Kaid suggests with a mischievous grin. “How so?” I ask in interest.
“Who can drink…seven shots first wins?” She proposes, motioning to the setup of drinks. “What does the winner get?” I inquire, smirking down at her. She returns it and continues. “If I win, I want your fabulous sailor hat with the pink gems and the skull [http://instagram.com/p/l2dW9nO1KF/].” She responds. “You do? Okay, that seems fair,” I start, quickly coming up with my prize, “if I win, you have to come stay with me for the weekend.”
I hope I don’t scare her off, but she almost immediately agrees, setting a few rules. “Each glass must be completely empty. You can’t spit any out. You can’t make the other person spit their shot out. Got it?”
I nod and drag over CC. “Count to three and say go.” I demand. He nods. “1! 2! 3!” He shouts, gaining attention to us. A small crowd gathers, watching us. I grab a shot glass and down it, the first one burning my throat. I quickly grow accustomed to it and snatch the next glass. As I gulp it down, I glance over to Kaid. She looks over at me and finishes her 2nd shot just before I do.
I hear a round of applause and cheers as I finish my last, 7th shot. I slam the empty, miniature cup onto the table and look over to see a dancing Kaid. “Fuck yeah!” She gloats.
After the crowd disperses, I reach out and pull her to my side, switching my beer into my other hand.
“Dammit; I was hoping you’d spend the weekend with me.” I slur seductively, placing a kiss on the top of her head. She grins up. “Well, maybe if you throw in a free red skull sweat shirt [http://instagram.com/p/l2dW9nO1KF/], I’ll come over anyway…” She negotiates, grabbing my beer sneakily and taking a long sip.
“I think that sounds good.” I agree.
“Tash?” Lindsay whines. I roll over and groan, kicking off my blankets. My cats scatter, dashing to the kitchen to their food. “Why are you naked?” She asks, cocking her head in confusion. Rubbing my eyes, I say, “I fell into bed after my shower.”
She examines my room. “I have a feeling this has something to do with Ashley…” She guesses, sitting on the end of my bed. “Well, maybe.” I admit with a blush. “I’m sorry.” She tells me sympathetically, wrapping her arms around me for a hug. “It’s okay.” I respond, tugging a hand through the matted gnarls in my wavy hair. I search for the elastic that must have fallen out, untying my braid, when I was asleep.
“Well, despite my hangover, I came over with news!” She explains dramatically. I look over as I bend down and pick out an outfit—lacy white bra, matching underwear, a pair of black sweatpants that are fitted in the ankles and a loose, off-the-shoulder, white, long sleeve shirt. I change and join her in my bed, waiting for her to continue.
“I know the girl Ashley is with.” She states, waiting for my reaction. I want to say “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to know. I’m okay with it…” But, I don’t. I actually say, “Who? Who?”
She dishes quickly, loving to gossip. “Kaid Sylver. She’s a 20 year-old who is still in college. She’s studying to become some sort of scientist.” She waves her hand dismissively as if being a scientist is worse than what I do—working at a bar. Well, actually, I no longer have a job.
“She’s sort of like me—loves to party. I’ve met her a couple times, at bars and shit.” She adds. I nod, licking my chapped lips. Yikes, I think, she sounds perfect.
A lot more perfect than me. Perfect for Ashley. But I don’t care. Right?