Wasteland
The Party Scene
It was another couple weeks before Mike extended another invitation towards me, this time for a party at a friend's house.
"I don't know, Mike." I said hesitantly. "Shouldn't the person who owns the house be the one inviting people?"
"It's not like they're checking tickets at the door, Adalia," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, Vic's going to check out this guy for our band, he's supposed to be a great bassist, and he'll probably be up the dude's ass all night. It'll be lonely without you."
"You're in a band?" I asked; for some reason, in all of the years I had noticed Mike, I had never heard of him being in a band.
"Yes, Adalia, I am in a band. That is so far beside the point." he said, heaving a sigh. "Will you go with me, please?"
I pretended to sigh, as if going along with him was such a heavy burden, and took my time in agreeing. I could tell that he saw through it, though, when he caught my smile.
"You're awesome, really." he said with a wide grin. "I'll pick you up around 10."
I could hardly wait.
This time, when Mike pulled up outside of my apartment, I felt ready for anything the world could throw at me. I had dressed somewhat casually, in a pair of shorts that showed much of the tattoo on my thigh (of Alice from Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole with the words 'Curiouser and Curiouser' in curling script underneath), and a tank top. Over that I wore a varsity jacket that I had borrowed from my roommate, Jake, and a pair of TOMS. Somehow my hair had been wrangled into a neat fishtail braid, and covered with a beanie. All in all, I was pretty satisfied.
"Damn, you're looking pretty nice tonight." Mike said as he saw me. He looked me slowly up and down, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I was surprised that I didn't feel uncomfortable with his eyes watching me so closely, like I did when other guys did, but Mike's gaze wasn't predatory, like I was a piece of meat. It was more appraising, interested, and a little bit sexy.
"You've got more ink?" he said as he got down to my thigh. "Any more I should know about?"
"There might be." I said with a grin as I walked around to the passenger's side.
"Are you gonna let me see them?" he asked, winking at me.
"I might."
An hour later, the party was in full swing, and all I wanted was to go home. Mike tried to keep me company, but other people kept coming up to him and pulling him away from the conversation. I knew I had no claim to Mike- I hardly knew him, after all- but I was starting to wonder why he had brought me along under the pretense of not wanting to be alone if there were so many people willing to talk to him.
When time started creeping towards midnight, Mike took my hand and, without another word, pulled me upstairs.
"Can you please tell me where we're going?" I said, digging my heels into the carpet. "I feel like you're taking me to get raped."
He laughed loudly and said, "I'm not going to rape you, and I'm not gonna let anyone else rape you. I just want to go somewhere quiet."
He opened the first door that he reached, and quickly shut it again, an annoyed look on his face. When we passed, a loud moan came from the room, and I blushed as I realized why he had shut the door so quickly. We continued down the hallway, checking rooms until he found one at the very end that was blissfully empty. He lead me in and closed the door, effectively blocking out most of the noise coming from downstairs. As he sat down on the bed and lit up a cigarette, I stood in the center of the room, unsure of what to do- and of what he wanted to do.
"Want some?" he asked, holding the cigarette out to me. I nodded, a blush creeping across my cheeks. My addiction to cigarettes- or what I guessed was the beginning of an addiction- was strange; I didn't think I was addicted to the nicotine, I was just in love with the process. It was rhythmic, mechanical- breath in, hold it, breathe it in again, then let it go.
"Have you smoked anything since a few weeks ago?" he asked. When I shook my head, he patted the bed beside him and said, "You might want to lay down, you're gonna get dizzy."
I sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact with him. I could feel him watching me; for what reason, I didn't know. I was used to people staring, because I was clumsy and awkward, but not like he did. It felt like he was actually interested in me.
"Tell me something," he said, his dark eyes still burning into me. "Tell me something about you."
"Like what?" I asked, finally looking over at him.
"Anything. Let me get to know you."
I bit my lip and looked down at the cigarette for a moment, then said, "There's not much interesting to tell, honestly."
"I think there is. Like you being emancipated, tell me about that."
"There's not much to it." I said with a shrug. "My parents were overbearing, to the point where it gave me anxiety attacks, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. It was surprisingly easy. All I had to do was find a roommate."
"That sounds like a great life." he said with a smile. "Nobody telling you what to do and where you can go."
"I guess, but it meant that I had to grow up a lot sooner." I said with a sad smile. Being (mostly) on my own meant making a lot of sacrifices and sometimes buying only what I needed to get by, and a lot of reevaluating my wants and needs. It was great to be rid of my parents, but a lot of being an adult sucked.
Mike nodded, looking as if he knew exactly what I was trying to say. It made a smile creep across my face, because not many people did.
As I took another drag from the cigarette, the dizziness that he had warned me about suddenly hit, and I laid back on the bed in the hopes of helping it a little. He chuckled softly and moved so that he was laying right next to me, his arm only inches from mine. To my embarrassment, I shivered the slightest bit, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Tell me something else," he said, his voice soft.
"I like music, a lot." I said softly. "And I like... people."
He looked over at me, waiting for me to continue speaking, as if he just knew that I had something more to say.
"I like knowing people." I said, so softly that I wasn't sure if he could hear me. "I like knowing a person's mind, what makes them up from the inside. I like hearing secrets and I like for people to tell me about themselves, because I'm so curious about everyone, all of the time. I like to understand people.
"I can't talk to people well, though. I don't know, I feel like that's all a bit weird, and nobody wants to be open enough. Nobody likes having their brains picked and their lives analyzed, but I'm so curious. I just notice people and how they act and I want to know so much more about them, because I know there's got to be so much behind them, but they never notice me and I just can't bring myself to ask."
I grew silent suddenly, shocked that all of that had really come out of my mouth. In school, I didn't let myself get close to anyone; it saved me from getting as hurt when I realized that I didn't mean much to them. But there I was, though, talking to a perfect almost-stranger, basically bearing my soul just because he had asked me to. I was letting myself grow attached to him, and that realization shocked me and made my breathing get heavy and my chest get tight.
"I noticed you."
Mike's words were so quiet that I could have almost convinced myself that I was imagining them. Almost, but not quite.
"That first day of school, I noticed you." he continued. "As soon as you got out of your car, I saw you, and I couldn't stop seeing you. I just felt like I had to talk to you, like I had to get to know you. I don't know why, you just interested me. You aren't like anyone else there."
My words caught in my throat. I almost felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack, but it wasn't so bad yet. Even so, my breathing sped up and I refused to look at him.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I felt his hand nudge mine, like he was trying to hold it. The brief contact felt good; before I knew it, I was turning my hand over and he was slipping his fingers in mine. It helped to ground me, and soon my breathing returned to normal.
"Was that what you meant when you said you had anxiety attacks?" he asked; all I could do was nod. "I'm sorry. I mean, not sorry for saying it because it's all true, but I'm sorry that I made that happen."
"It's cool." I said with a small smile. "It just shocked me, is all."
"I don't see why," he said. "Then again, most people don't recognize how great they are."
"I don't know, Mike." I said hesitantly. "Shouldn't the person who owns the house be the one inviting people?"
"It's not like they're checking tickets at the door, Adalia," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, Vic's going to check out this guy for our band, he's supposed to be a great bassist, and he'll probably be up the dude's ass all night. It'll be lonely without you."
"You're in a band?" I asked; for some reason, in all of the years I had noticed Mike, I had never heard of him being in a band.
"Yes, Adalia, I am in a band. That is so far beside the point." he said, heaving a sigh. "Will you go with me, please?"
I pretended to sigh, as if going along with him was such a heavy burden, and took my time in agreeing. I could tell that he saw through it, though, when he caught my smile.
"You're awesome, really." he said with a wide grin. "I'll pick you up around 10."
I could hardly wait.
This time, when Mike pulled up outside of my apartment, I felt ready for anything the world could throw at me. I had dressed somewhat casually, in a pair of shorts that showed much of the tattoo on my thigh (of Alice from Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole with the words 'Curiouser and Curiouser' in curling script underneath), and a tank top. Over that I wore a varsity jacket that I had borrowed from my roommate, Jake, and a pair of TOMS. Somehow my hair had been wrangled into a neat fishtail braid, and covered with a beanie. All in all, I was pretty satisfied.
"Damn, you're looking pretty nice tonight." Mike said as he saw me. He looked me slowly up and down, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I was surprised that I didn't feel uncomfortable with his eyes watching me so closely, like I did when other guys did, but Mike's gaze wasn't predatory, like I was a piece of meat. It was more appraising, interested, and a little bit sexy.
"You've got more ink?" he said as he got down to my thigh. "Any more I should know about?"
"There might be." I said with a grin as I walked around to the passenger's side.
"Are you gonna let me see them?" he asked, winking at me.
"I might."
An hour later, the party was in full swing, and all I wanted was to go home. Mike tried to keep me company, but other people kept coming up to him and pulling him away from the conversation. I knew I had no claim to Mike- I hardly knew him, after all- but I was starting to wonder why he had brought me along under the pretense of not wanting to be alone if there were so many people willing to talk to him.
When time started creeping towards midnight, Mike took my hand and, without another word, pulled me upstairs.
"Can you please tell me where we're going?" I said, digging my heels into the carpet. "I feel like you're taking me to get raped."
He laughed loudly and said, "I'm not going to rape you, and I'm not gonna let anyone else rape you. I just want to go somewhere quiet."
He opened the first door that he reached, and quickly shut it again, an annoyed look on his face. When we passed, a loud moan came from the room, and I blushed as I realized why he had shut the door so quickly. We continued down the hallway, checking rooms until he found one at the very end that was blissfully empty. He lead me in and closed the door, effectively blocking out most of the noise coming from downstairs. As he sat down on the bed and lit up a cigarette, I stood in the center of the room, unsure of what to do- and of what he wanted to do.
"Want some?" he asked, holding the cigarette out to me. I nodded, a blush creeping across my cheeks. My addiction to cigarettes- or what I guessed was the beginning of an addiction- was strange; I didn't think I was addicted to the nicotine, I was just in love with the process. It was rhythmic, mechanical- breath in, hold it, breathe it in again, then let it go.
"Have you smoked anything since a few weeks ago?" he asked. When I shook my head, he patted the bed beside him and said, "You might want to lay down, you're gonna get dizzy."
I sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact with him. I could feel him watching me; for what reason, I didn't know. I was used to people staring, because I was clumsy and awkward, but not like he did. It felt like he was actually interested in me.
"Tell me something," he said, his dark eyes still burning into me. "Tell me something about you."
"Like what?" I asked, finally looking over at him.
"Anything. Let me get to know you."
I bit my lip and looked down at the cigarette for a moment, then said, "There's not much interesting to tell, honestly."
"I think there is. Like you being emancipated, tell me about that."
"There's not much to it." I said with a shrug. "My parents were overbearing, to the point where it gave me anxiety attacks, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. It was surprisingly easy. All I had to do was find a roommate."
"That sounds like a great life." he said with a smile. "Nobody telling you what to do and where you can go."
"I guess, but it meant that I had to grow up a lot sooner." I said with a sad smile. Being (mostly) on my own meant making a lot of sacrifices and sometimes buying only what I needed to get by, and a lot of reevaluating my wants and needs. It was great to be rid of my parents, but a lot of being an adult sucked.
Mike nodded, looking as if he knew exactly what I was trying to say. It made a smile creep across my face, because not many people did.
As I took another drag from the cigarette, the dizziness that he had warned me about suddenly hit, and I laid back on the bed in the hopes of helping it a little. He chuckled softly and moved so that he was laying right next to me, his arm only inches from mine. To my embarrassment, I shivered the slightest bit, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Tell me something else," he said, his voice soft.
"I like music, a lot." I said softly. "And I like... people."
He looked over at me, waiting for me to continue speaking, as if he just knew that I had something more to say.
"I like knowing people." I said, so softly that I wasn't sure if he could hear me. "I like knowing a person's mind, what makes them up from the inside. I like hearing secrets and I like for people to tell me about themselves, because I'm so curious about everyone, all of the time. I like to understand people.
"I can't talk to people well, though. I don't know, I feel like that's all a bit weird, and nobody wants to be open enough. Nobody likes having their brains picked and their lives analyzed, but I'm so curious. I just notice people and how they act and I want to know so much more about them, because I know there's got to be so much behind them, but they never notice me and I just can't bring myself to ask."
I grew silent suddenly, shocked that all of that had really come out of my mouth. In school, I didn't let myself get close to anyone; it saved me from getting as hurt when I realized that I didn't mean much to them. But there I was, though, talking to a perfect almost-stranger, basically bearing my soul just because he had asked me to. I was letting myself grow attached to him, and that realization shocked me and made my breathing get heavy and my chest get tight.
"I noticed you."
Mike's words were so quiet that I could have almost convinced myself that I was imagining them. Almost, but not quite.
"That first day of school, I noticed you." he continued. "As soon as you got out of your car, I saw you, and I couldn't stop seeing you. I just felt like I had to talk to you, like I had to get to know you. I don't know why, you just interested me. You aren't like anyone else there."
My words caught in my throat. I almost felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack, but it wasn't so bad yet. Even so, my breathing sped up and I refused to look at him.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I felt his hand nudge mine, like he was trying to hold it. The brief contact felt good; before I knew it, I was turning my hand over and he was slipping his fingers in mine. It helped to ground me, and soon my breathing returned to normal.
"Was that what you meant when you said you had anxiety attacks?" he asked; all I could do was nod. "I'm sorry. I mean, not sorry for saying it because it's all true, but I'm sorry that I made that happen."
"It's cool." I said with a small smile. "It just shocked me, is all."
"I don't see why," he said. "Then again, most people don't recognize how great they are."
Notes
Odd place to end a chapter, but this feels good! Make sure to comment and let me know what you think!Adalia's Outfit
11/25/13