talk to us. Ayla, with her fleshy hips and flat chest, was the Pied Piper of coffee shop boys. But if we were talking about something serious, she'd just as soon tell them to git.
Now, peering into The Boy's apartment window, I wonder how Ayla could handle every boy in the coffee shop, but seem so squirmy with this boy, who she already knows. She takes another drink and glances across the couch at him. He's staring in his cup.
"So, you're all set to jump into grocery store management?" she asks with an uncomfortable laugh.
"Sure" He shrugs. "It's just stocking shelves at night. It's not really managing. More like keeping track."
"Mmm." She nods, sips.
"What about you? Did you figure out where you're going yet? Is what's-her-name kicking you out right on your birthday?"
Ayla frowns. She rolls her cup between her palms. "Selene. Her name's Selene. I don't know what she’s planning. It doesn't matter. I've still got time."
"Not much," he says. "A couple weeks? Your step mom..."
"Foster mom."
"She’s pretty cold, if you ask me. But I was thinking about it all today too, and I have an idea for you."
"Oh yeah? You've got an opening for a stock girl?"
"No, but if you need a place to crash...” He jostles his cup in a little wave over head, indicating his apartment. Some of the liquid splashes over the edge and runs down the side, leaving a wet ring on his jeans. Ayla doesn't notice. She's too busy gaping.
"Here?" she asks. "With you? That'd be kind of weird."
"What'd be so weird about it?" he asks, shifting on the end cushion. I can tell he feels weird now too. He moves his legs even tighter together and holds his cup with both hands, over his crotch. Frowns. "We'd just be roommates."
"You only have one bedroom, Adam."
"You could always crash on the couch," he says. Ayla narrows her eyes a little. He gives her another shrug. "Or I could."
"Why are you even offering?"
He groans so quietly, I'm not sure she heard it, even though I do. I lean a little further toward the window, trying to scoop up every word.
"I think it's the same answer to why are we both here ?" he says.
Ayla's face screws up into a tight knot and she jumps off his couch. This is finally the Mighty Ayla, taking a stand. The only best friend that I ever had. She seems to grow a steel shell right there, in the middle of his living room. I've seen her do it before. She's going to let him have it.
"I only came over here because you asked me. Why did you even move here?"
He rolls his hand over his hair, suddenly flustered.
"I don't know," he says. "But you knew her and I knew her and I think we both feel…I don’t know…bad. But when you’re around, I don’t feel it so much. Being able to lie beside you helps take it away."
"That’s what I’ve been to you? A mercy fuck? Somebody to get you over Madeline?"
My wings shudder as her words slam into them. I stagger backward and struggle to keep my wings aloft. My only friend and The Boy. They were each separate things that belonged to me , but now they are one thing, and belong to each other.
I want to hate them. The emotion would've been so easy to conjure when I was in my flesh, but now, bringing up the feeling is like trying to lift the Earth. The hatred snuffs itself out when it reaches the pitch of anguish, and then it sinks, like a ship with a hole ripped in the side, down into the deep pit of me. It rests at my base, it’s anchor dragging on my sorrow.
What good is it? They are paired now, an exotic species of life, something that I’ve left behind. The thought stings inside me, the same way the water stung my eyes when I first jumped.
I press my wings in a higher scoop. I still want to hear how it happened. Why.
"Don't be stupid," he frowns.
"You tell me then. What am I to you?"
"I didn't want it to happen like
Now, peering into The Boy's apartment window, I wonder how Ayla could handle every boy in the coffee shop, but seem so squirmy with this boy, who she already knows. She takes another drink and glances across the couch at him. He's staring in his cup.
"So, you're all set to jump into grocery store management?" she asks with an uncomfortable laugh.
"Sure" He shrugs. "It's just stocking shelves at night. It's not really managing. More like keeping track."
"Mmm." She nods, sips.
"What about you? Did you figure out where you're going yet? Is what's-her-name kicking you out right on your birthday?"
Ayla frowns. She rolls her cup between her palms. "Selene. Her name's Selene. I don't know what she’s planning. It doesn't matter. I've still got time."
"Not much," he says. "A couple weeks? Your step mom..."
"Foster mom."
"She’s pretty cold, if you ask me. But I was thinking about it all today too, and I have an idea for you."
"Oh yeah? You've got an opening for a stock girl?"
"No, but if you need a place to crash...” He jostles his cup in a little wave over head, indicating his apartment. Some of the liquid splashes over the edge and runs down the side, leaving a wet ring on his jeans. Ayla doesn't notice. She's too busy gaping.
"Here?" she asks. "With you? That'd be kind of weird."
"What'd be so weird about it?" he asks, shifting on the end cushion. I can tell he feels weird now too. He moves his legs even tighter together and holds his cup with both hands, over his crotch. Frowns. "We'd just be roommates."
"You only have one bedroom, Adam."
"You could always crash on the couch," he says. Ayla narrows her eyes a little. He gives her another shrug. "Or I could."
"Why are you even offering?"
He groans so quietly, I'm not sure she heard it, even though I do. I lean a little further toward the window, trying to scoop up every word.
"I think it's the same answer to why are we both here ?" he says.
Ayla's face screws up into a tight knot and she jumps off his couch. This is finally the Mighty Ayla, taking a stand. The only best friend that I ever had. She seems to grow a steel shell right there, in the middle of his living room. I've seen her do it before. She's going to let him have it.
"I only came over here because you asked me. Why did you even move here?"
He rolls his hand over his hair, suddenly flustered.
"I don't know," he says. "But you knew her and I knew her and I think we both feel…I don’t know…bad. But when you’re around, I don’t feel it so much. Being able to lie beside you helps take it away."
"That’s what I’ve been to you? A mercy fuck? Somebody to get you over Madeline?"
My wings shudder as her words slam into them. I stagger backward and struggle to keep my wings aloft. My only friend and The Boy. They were each separate things that belonged to me , but now they are one thing, and belong to each other.
I want to hate them. The emotion would've been so easy to conjure when I was in my flesh, but now, bringing up the feeling is like trying to lift the Earth. The hatred snuffs itself out when it reaches the pitch of anguish, and then it sinks, like a ship with a hole ripped in the side, down into the deep pit of me. It rests at my base, it’s anchor dragging on my sorrow.
What good is it? They are paired now, an exotic species of life, something that I’ve left behind. The thought stings inside me, the same way the water stung my eyes when I first jumped.
I press my wings in a higher scoop. I still want to hear how it happened. Why.
"Don't be stupid," he frowns.
"You tell me then. What am I to you?"
"I didn't want it to happen like
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