I smiled at his comment on my playlist being the soundtrack being the end of the world. It was supposed to be a extremely sarcastic smile, but for some reason, my cheeks didn’t retract enough. It was just a simple smile, a common smile. A full-of-feelings smile. As if I could feel anything other than just the irony of the situation on air. That dude seemed like a hipster. One of those who listen to music which lyrics aren’t even on youtube.
“Yes, my musical tastes change like that.” I said. “Sometimes I like pop music, sometimes I feel like listening to a bit of rock, or sometimes, no music at all, because my brain is too full of stuff to proccess music” I added and shook my head. That was useless information. I arched my eyebrows, as I picked a skirt. It was a plain jeans skirt, something cheap but that would help me to at least get home… or somewhere. “Of course I read books” I replied. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” I asked in a hurry. It wasn’t meant to be answered.
As I noticed her smiling a real, non-ironic non-defensive smile, I felt the muscles of my back relax a little without asking me for authorization. It was a huge problem for me, how quickly I would react to people’s behavior. It was like as soon as they seemed to act normally around me I would lose the ability to bitch at them, because people treating me like…. Like someone decent, like their equal, was so rare I’d immediately lose all control. It’s safe to say I softened a bit when I saw her smile, and even safer to say I didn’t like that. At all.
I nodded and commented, “yeah, like sometimes you’re too stuffed on bullshit to get any more sound or word in your brain and you just sort of need to, like, pour it out or something.” I eyed the skirt she had picked and pouted slightly. She could get a better one. “Hey, calm down there Legs, I was actually worried you might disappoint me. Just checking and stuff. Sometimes some people are good at looking smart but being shallow as fuck, so you never know, better make sure.” I had no idea why I was babbling like that, like I wanted her to know I really meant no harm, like I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. As I said before, losing the ability to bitch just because of a smile. Quite incapacitating.
Actually, I was just walking randomly, once or another avoiding where the feminine section was, just to try to make him give up. But he had followed me. In silence, once or another, mumbling something about the couples in the store, or the girls… or the way the girls threw herself at the dudes, even if they were waiting for their girlfriends. I shrugged. It was no new news.Then “99 problems” started playing at the speakers. The guy started to mumble something about the offensive lyrics. Once again, I shrugged. I was used to that. It wasn’t the kind of music I appreciated, in fact. But I no longer felt bothered by it. It was just so mechanical, I started to ignore it. And if we are talking about 99 problems, I could say I liked Hugo’s version better, though I doubt the lyrics had more resemblance than the title.
“Ugh. Don’t they notice that after the first minute this song gets annoying?” I mumbled, after all. “Even my iPod has better songs than that” I said, walking towards the skirt’s section, taking a distance from the speakers.
I sighed in relief, both because we were getting farther from the speakers and also because the fact that she wasn’t into macho twats was earning her good points. I noticed she was finally going for the skirts section, after a long moment of just walking around. Probably in an attempt to bother me or make me go away. I shrugged at the idea; whatever it was she was trying to do, it wouldn’t work. I was stubborn and had this sort of filter that kept me from understanding what people wanted from me. Most supposedly because the most part of the people I used to know when I still went to high school wanted me dead or something. Sorry but no living up to those expectations, guys. Or rather, dying up to them? Whatever.
“I like how you say that like your iPod is the epitome of Disgrace or something. What music do you listen to?” I asked, still following her. Music was as close to a state of mind as you could get, and having common taste in music also meant having common opinion on life in general. Not that I was expecting to have any common anything with her though, mind you. Not what I said. That girl and I were two galaxies apart, and after today we would most likely never see each other again. I would either scoff at her taste in music or be totally clueless to her favorite band’s name, that was for sure.
The dude didn’t even seem to be bothered by all my excessive walking with no apparent purpose. He seemed to have a huge patience for shopping or… he didn’t want to get his eyes off me. That was good and bad. Bad, because it looked like he was trying to yell at me if I attempted to pick something else (come on, these clothes are pretty!). But good… because he was the first guy to ever do that.
“Well, it could be. Judging by some people’s thoughts on music, my taste of music could be pretty much the soundtrack of the end of the world.” I replied. “Asking my taste on music?” I asked back, arching my eyebrows a little. He shrugged. I answered anyway. “I actually listen to anything. But most of it is what they call ‘mainstream music’. You know, these pop, dance shit. Not that I don’t like rock or any other genres, I actually like… It depends on the song or the moment” I said.
I raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “The end of the world? Now that sounds like something I’d like.” I shrugged as she inquired if I was really asking about her music tastes. It was a pretty rhetorical question I wouldn’t bother answering, and she took my scoffing as a ‘yes’ anyway. I nodded at her explanation; it could have been worse I guess, depending on what she meant by “mainstream music”. Not that I was that kind of hipster twat who spits on everything that has a large base of fans or anything, I just fell into the “sad emo kids” box. Some mainstream stuff could be valuable enough, I mean I did listen to Paramore after all. I frowned a bit, starting to wonder if Paramore was really this mainstream or…? I shook my head, focusing back on the girl. It wouldn’t be very polite to ignore her when I had been the one bothering her and pretty much stalking her into that shop.
“Music tastes fluctuate a lot actually. Like… You might like pop and dance stuff but when you’re angry you’d go to more rock songs and when you’re sad you go for ballads or whatnot, well at least when you’re a bit deep in your head you’ve got a broader music range and all. It’s like reading drama and adventure but also serious books, like…. If you can be satisfied with only one type of music or books it means you’ve got a fucking problem and a ridiculously low interest rank. Like a mollusk or something…” I eyed her sternly, suddenly feeling almost panicky. “I mean, you do read, right? Tell me you do before I get a fucking heart attack” I pressed her. I didn’t know why, but I think I would have been disappointed if she didn’t read. Which was stupid and uncalled for because why should I even care, right?
Actually, I was just walking randomly, once or another avoiding where the feminine section was, just to try to make him give up. But he had followed me. In silence, once or another, mumbling something about the couples in the store, or the girls… or the way the girls threw herself at the dudes, even if they were waiting for their girlfriends. I shrugged. It was no new news.Then “99 problems” started playing at the speakers. The guy started to mumble something about the offensive lyrics. Once again, I shrugged. I was used to that. It wasn’t the kind of music I appreciated, in fact. But I no longer felt bothered by it. It was just so mechanical, I started to ignore it. And if we are talking about 99 problems, I could say I liked Hugo’s version better, though I doubt the lyrics had more resemblance than the title.
“Ugh. Don’t they notice that after the first minute this song gets annoying?” I mumbled, after all. “Even my iPod has better songs than that” I said, walking towards the skirt’s section, taking a distance from the speakers.
I sighed in relief, both because we were getting farther from the speakers and also because the fact that she wasn’t into macho twats was earning her good points. noticed she was finally going for the skirts section, after a long moment of just walking around. Probably in an attempt to bother me or make me go away. I shrugged at the idea; whatever it was she was trying to do, it wouldn’t work. I was stubborn and had this sort of filter that kept me from understanding what people wanted from me. Most supposedly because the most part of the people I used to know when I still went to high school wanted me dead or something. Sorry but no living up to those expectations, guys. Or rather, dying up to them? Whatever.
“I like how you say that like your iPod is the epitome of Disgrace or something. What music do you listen to?” I asked, still following her. Music was as close to a state of mind as you could get, and having common taste in music also meant having common opinion on life in general. Not that I was expecting to have any common anything with her though, mind you. Not what I said. That girl and I were two galaxies apart, and after today we would most likely never see each other again. I would either scoff at her taste in music or be totally clueless to her favorite band’s name, that was for sure.
That was it. The dude was officially weird. If I had understood it right, he was going to follow me, to be sure he’d give me money enough to buy a new skirt. What the hell was he thinking? That I would take all his money and run away? In fact, I could perfectly do that. But I’m not a thief. I am many things. But absolutely not a thief. “Whatever you say, dude, whatever you say.” I said as I started walking towards the store. The sooner we got there, the sooner it would be over.
See, it might seem like that, but I actually don’t have any problem with guys. The real problem is, I’ve been knowing them too much. They’re always the same. Selfish scared little kids who are not up for a change. They think hormones are their sacred book. In this situation, the sacred comic book. Hanging out with Joe made me realize that all the guys were just like him, and if you didn’t play their way, you’d never get any. You’d have to play to the rhythm, fit in. It’s always you the one who has to fit in. It’s always about giving, but they never return you anything.
We reached the store, and I stood in front of him. What was he thinking? That he’d walk in with me and see the skirt I was going to buy and give opinions about it; like the happy boyfriend on those cheesy teenage movies? No way. Absolutely not. “You’re not thinking you’re going to follow me inside the store, are you? I take too long to pick my clothes, man. You’re going to wait a lot” I warned, actually trying to make him give up.
I stopped as she came to a halt in front of the store, and the way she warned me about the time she supposedly takes to pick her clothes made it crystal clear she just didn’t want me around. Well, bad luck lady, because when your day is based off nothing you end up doing pretty much anything at all, and in this case, accompanying a total stranger shopping. I smirked again, getting ready to find some delight in her reaction as I replied: “oh, it’s fine, I’m patient, and besides I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Honesty time: I was dying to get on her nerves a bit more, because it was the only way I had to hear more of her thoughts. I don’t know, some people just hit me as interesting enough for me to reach into my box of fucks and give one, for once. I grinned and passed by her, got closer to the store entrance and turned around. “So, are you going to go find yourself a damn skirt or what?” With that, I got in, not leaving her with a choice as to whether she’d let me tag along or not.
His comment wasn’t making things any easier. What type of dude follows a girl into a store, tagging her along as she buys a skirt? Seriously? Not even Joe did that. Actually, Joe never did it. None of the guys did. They just mindlessly hate shopping, unless the store manager has big boobs. And, well, given the fact that store wasn’t a strict feminine clothing store, I doubt the store manager would even have boobs.
“Don’t say you haven’t been warned” I said, as I walked into the store, the dude followed my steps. “I don’t want you to complain about something you have been previously warned. And yes, I’m going to find the damn skirt.” I added, walking to the femine clothing section.
Once again, he was following me. If someone asked me why he was accompanying me, I’d say I had never seen him before and ask them to take him away. Well, after I took his money, of course. I shrugged at the thought. No, I wasn’t that mean. That was not me. That was not the real me. That was just a plastic doll I had to become just to please Joe. I was no longer a doll. Though I still didn’t know who the hell I truly was.
I nodded with a satisfied smile, following her around. I had no clue where the skirts or anything were so I let her lead the way, zigzagging between the other customers (mostly girls, of course, with a bonus two or three mumbling boyfriends). Shopping didn’t really bother me, it just meant walking very slowly, stopping every twenty-five seconds to check stuff you wouldn’t buy, all that. The only thing that could go totally wrong with shopping, though, was the crappy music you could hear in many stores. And just as I thought about that, Jay-Z’s “99 problems” came on, blasted all around us in the whole room. I wrinkled my nose in a disgusted expression and grunted.
“Ugh, worst song ever. Offensive lyrics written by a major twat, why do they even allow him to talk at all? Fucker.” I started ranting about Jay-Z and rap in general without really noticing I was doing it aloud. I’m always ranting in my head, but the fact that this time I was accompanying someone forced the words out of my throat. I shut up at some point, when the idea crossed my mind that maybe it’d be the type of music the girl would like. I eyed her cautiously, trying to figure out what wonders would her iPod hold. I winced at the idea of hip hop and macho rap lyrics clogging there. She could wear and drink and eat and say whatever the fuck she wanted to, but girls who listen to that macho shit are just out of my understanding reach.
That was it. The dude was officially weird. If I had understood it right, he was going to follow me, to be sure he’d give me money enough to buy a new skirt. What the hell was he thinking? That I would take all his money and run away? In fact, I could perfectly do that. But I’m not a thief. I am many things. But absolutely not a thief. “Whatever you say, dude, whatever you say.” I said as I started walking towards the store. The sooner we got there, the sooner it would be over.
See, it might seem like that, but I actually don’t have any problem with guys. The real problem is, I’ve been knowing them too much. They’re always the same. Selfish scared little kids who are not up for a change. They think hormones are their sacred book. In this situation, the sacred comic book. Hanging out with Joe made me realize that all the guys were just like him, and if you didn’t play their way, you’d never get any. You’d have to play to the rhythm, fit in. It’s always you the one who has to fit in. It’s always about giving, but they never return you anything.
We reached the store, and I stood in front of him. What was he thinking? That he’d walk in with me and see the skirt I was going to buy and give opinions about it; like the happy boyfriend on those cheesy teenage movies? No way. Absolutely not. “You’re not thinking you’re going to follow me inside the store, are you? I take too long to pick my clothes, man. You’re going to wait a lot” I warned, actually trying to make him give up.
I stopped as she came to a halt in front of the store, and the way she warned me about the time she supposedly takes to pick her clothes made it crystal clear she just didn’t want me around. Well, bad luck lady, because when your day is based off nothing you end up doing pretty much anything at all, and in this case, accompanying a total stranger shopping. I smirked again, getting ready to find some delight in her reaction as I replied: “oh, it’s fine, I’m patient, and besides I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Honesty time: I was dying to get on her nerves a bit more, because it was the only way I had to hear more of her thoughts. I don’t know, some people just hit me as interesting enough for me to reach into my box of fucks and give one, for once. I grinned and passed by her, got closer to the store entrance and turned around. “So, are you going to go find yourself a damn skirt or what?” With that, I got in, not leaving her with a choice as to whether she’d let me tag along or not.
Could we make a scale of weird people? Because if so, I’d ask: ‘from 0 to dude with the energy drinks, how weird are you?’ Because… seriously? What was that guy? Bipolar?! First he offered me a skirt, then now… ‘your life not mine’. Does it hurt to be at least a little polite, idiot? I don’t think it does, does it? I was once worrying about things way too much. I should just leave. But no. Part of me wanted the money back. I had spent way too much of my money on something I’ve only used twice. I’ve spent a lot of money on something I didn’t actually like at all, because I wanted to fit in and be like everybody else. All the other girls. All the other cool girls. I wanted to be like Becca.
No. I wanted to be BETTER than Becca.
“If you think that a new skirt is going to solve everything. Go ahead. Buy me a new one.” I shrugged. “The sooner we finish with this, the better.” I added, crossing my arms. “Yes, It’s my life, not yours, which means, I’ll live my life, you’ll live yours, and I just hope you don’t cross my way, bump on me and stare at my legs again, thank you.” I said, maybe being a bit too harsh, but he deserved it. He he had been bipolar to me? I’d be bipolar to him too, then. It’s the law of action and reaction.
I sighed: it was only fair she’d be a bitch to me now, seeing as my attempt at being a bit more friendly hadn’t exactly been a success. “I don’t think it’s going to solve anything, it’s just a way to repay you for the damage”, I explained as patiently as I could. If we were going to spend a little more time together, it would be nice to not insult each other constantly. I shrugged off her staring-at-her-legs comment, because really? Chances weren’t that high we’d see each other again. How long had I been living here, and I had never seen her face anywhere, yet she seemed equally familiar with the place. Some say the world is small, but they’re just reacting like kids to small coincidences.
“So, where do you want to go?” I asked her in a bored tone. I could try not being a twat, but certainly not all smiles and rainbows! Show your best okay, but she wouldn’t fall for sudden forced grins and happy gibberish, would she? She didn’t seem like the type, and I was pretty sure the girl held heavy grudges. Not that I’m not cool with that, grudges can lead you pretty far, I mean, look at Spiderman! But I’m getting off tracks, Spiderman has nothing to do with anything, because he doesn’t need to splash people with drinks to get some human interaction. I looked around, trying to spot a clothes store, even though I had no idea what the lioness’ tastes would be, thus clueless as to where she’d make me go.
“Well, at least it will solve this, and as I said before. I hope once we get done with this, it won’t happen again.” I said. Obviously, he had shrugged at my comment on staring at my legs. Guys. They were all the same. Apparently, they think pretty legs and a nice face are everything you need. Not to mention that they always want you to be think. They don’t take more. Always less. Less everything. Less weight. Less clothes. Less originality. And you always had to be the one to change.
“Any store is good. As long as there’s a nice skirt.” I said. “Though I feel like making you spending lots of money, at the same time I don’t. I want to get finished with this quick, so… That store.” I pointed to the one at the end of the street. “They have a decent style of clothing. You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want. Just give me money, I’ll buy the skirt. I can handle this.” I added.
I looked at the direction she was pointing at: I knew that store, had bought a few clothes there myself. I had no idea what their women section was like of course, but whatever suited the girl, the better. I shrugged again and answered, detached: “nah, it’s fine. I mean, no, you’re doomed, I’m tagging along. What if I give you an insufficient amount of money? Plus… Pff, whatever. I just feel like tagging along and that’ll have to do.”
What was it with people always making you feel like you have to explain everything? I wasn’t good at that at all. Probably because every time I’d try to justify myself for doing so much as breathing, I’d be mocked anyway, because I never went by anybody’s standards. Either that or, as it was the case with my father, at some point of my explanation I’d notice nobody’s listening anymore so I trail off, and what’s the point in starting to explain anything since nobody’s ever willing to listen? I’ll keep my thoughts to myself, and that’ll have to do, too.
Could we make a scale of weird people? Because if so, I’d ask: ‘from 0 to dude with the energy drinks, how weird are you?’ Because… seriously? What was that guy? Bipolar?! First he offered me a skirt, then now… ‘your life not mine’. Does it hurt to be at least a little polite, idiot? I don’t think it does, does it? I was once worrying about things way too much. I should just leave. But no. Part of me wanted the money back. I had spent way too much of my money on something I’ve only used twice. I’ve spent a lot of money on something I didn’t actually like at all, because I wanted to fit in and be like everybody else. All the other girls. All the other cool girls. I wanted to be like Becca.
No. I wanted to be BETTER than Becca.
“If you think that a new skirt is going to solve everything. Go ahead. Buy me a new one.” I shrugged. “The sooner we finish with this, the better.” I added, crossing my arms. “Yes, It’s my life, not yours, which means, I’ll live my life, you’ll live yours, and I just hope you don’t cross my way, bump on me and stare at my legs again, thank you.” I said, maybe being a bit too harsh, but he deserved it. He he had been bipolar to me? I’d be bipolar to him too, then. It’s the law of action and reaction.
I sighed: it was only fair she’d be a bitch to me now, seeing as my attempt at being a bit more friendly hadn’t exactly been a success. “I don’t think it’s going to solve anything, it’s just a way to repay you for the damage”, I explained as patiently as I could. If we were going to spend a little more time together, it would be nice to not insult each other constantly. I shrugged off her staring-at-her-legs comment, because really? Chances weren’t that high we’d see each other again. How long had I been living here, and I had never seen her face anywhere, yet she seemed equally familiar with the place. Some say the world is small, but they’re just reacting like kids to small coincidences.
“So, where do you want to go?” I asked her in a bored tone. I could try not being a twat, but certainly not all smiles and rainbows! Show your best okay, but she wouldn’t fall for sudden forced grins and happy gibberish, would she? She didn’t seem like the type, and I was pretty sure the girl held heavy grudges. Not that I’m not cool with that, grudges can lead you pretty far, I mean, look at Spiderman! But I’m getting off tracks, Spiderman has nothing to do with anything, because he doesn’t need to splash people with drinks to get some human interaction. I looked around, trying to spot a clothes store, even though I had no idea what the lioness’ tastes would be, thus clueless as to where she’d make me go.
He kept staring at me. It was making me nervous already. I hated when people looked me directly in the eyes, or stared at me for too long. It made me think of what they would be thinking. And in most of the situations, it couldn’t be a good thing. It never was a good thing. Never.
“You say it like you’re an expert at knowing girls. Look, stranger, you aren’t. Girls use more than just make up. They cover their intentions too. If you really want to know a girl, you should stop judging her by the size of her skirt. The size of the skirt doesn’t tell any shit about a girl.” I replied. I didn’t even know why I said that of so sudden. Why did I even bother with that dude? He was annoying. I shouldn’t even be talking to him, anyway.
“Stop calling me legs, okay? I am not just a pair of legs, if you haven’t noticed. So top taking the part instead of the everything.” I crossed my arms and frowned. “You know what, I don’t even know why I’m here, talking to you anyway. Good-fucking-bye.” I said, and left the bottles on the shelf. I guess we had enough with that. Fuck Becca and Joe. They didn’t need me anymore. They actually never did. I shouldn’t be bounded to them. I turned my back on the dude and walked to the store’s door. I’m not paying for the exploded cans.
Her speech made quite the impression on me, I gotta admit it. Sure, she wasn’t just a pair of legs; she had a good brain going behind those pretty eyes, as well. I didn’t stop smirking as she turned around and walked out angrily. A lioness, that’s the mental image I had of her at that moment. A proud, graceful and deadly lioness. As I picked up the cans hastily and stuffed them into a plastic bag, I could see her reach the door of the store. I got twenty bucks from my wallet, handed them to Rose at the other side of the counter and told her to keep the change as an excuse for the cleaning she’d have to do, then took to half-walk hastily, half-run to the girl whose name I didn’t even know.
Okay, maybe I should explain what went on in my head at that moment because I don’t think it makes much sense for anybody but me: you see, I have those kind of… moments of epiphany where I realize, “hey, so everybody on this planet are fucking twats and I hate them for that, so why am I being a twat too already?”, which leads to me trying to make up for the twattitude as much as I can. This girl was about to go to a party and meet up with people she didn’t even like, buying alcohol she wouldn’t even drink and have a lame time, and on top of that I ruined her skirt. I think there’s only so much you can take in a day, and hers definitely needed some improvement.
“Hey,” I called out when catching up, “hey wait!”. I grabbed her by the wrist, wondering how I could make her listen to me. Hey, let’s be real, the chances were pretty low she’d ever want to see my face again, so I had to be very tactful, nice, and polite. To get an idea of how fucking hard that’d be, try imagining to eat a coconut. Not the inside of it, but biting down at the actual coconut. Yeah that’s not something you’d usually do I know, oh whatever, get creative, for fuck’s sake! So, back to my trying to cancel the twattitude. “So, hm… I was serious about buying you a new skirt, though. Like, you know. Can’t let you walk around with this soaked… Thing on. Might catch a cold.” I had to fight the smirk from coming back. Successfully, I guess…? I settled my Eastpack on my back again, waiting for her reaction.
I’ve had worse days. But that would surely go to my bad days list. No drinks, no friend, and a soaked skirt. And of course, I didn’t have anywhere to go. I should be at school, but due to some… things that happened, I didn’t want to go there anymore. So I just skipped it, and eventually appeared for the tests. But other than that… No one would see my face. Actually, my mother didn’t even bother with that. She was too high in her wonderland to notice if I was skipping a day, or two, or a whole week of classes. In my mind, I planned the options of places I could go from there. The result was awful. No place would accept a girl with a soaked skirt.
I heard someone yelling at me. I walked faster. But then someone grabbed be by the wrist. The sudden action made thoughts run fast in my mind. Options. I could walk faster. Punch whoever it was. Or stop and face. Somehow, I chose the third option. I turned back and saw the nerd of the ernegy drinks. I have to admit I was surprised by his action, because by the look, he didn’t seem like someone who would do that, run to talk to a stranger who had just threatened to make him choke to death on a Dr Pepper flavored skirt. You don’t see that happening very often.
I sighed. “I don’t actually need a new skirt, you know? I just need something to wear instead of this… thing and that’s all, thank you.”
I was surprised when she just plain turned around and faced me with that stern expression she’d had most of the time we talked. Funny how youth those days couldn’t seem to be fucking happy. Emo kids, angry teens, hipster twats and aggressive hobos, that’s all you can get here. I sighed, shooting her a look that meant I wasn’t really going to pay attention to her arguments. Hey, I’m one sutbborn bastard. Better add that to the already long list of my good points. Well because yes, yes it’s a fucking good point, don’t you dare think otherwise. I shrugged and replied,
“Yeah sure, but right now you don’t really have anything else to wear, do you? And the quickest we can do is head in somewhere your choice and get you something decent to wear until you reach… I don’t know, a friend’s house or yours or wherever, your life not mine.” I fidgeted, I wasn’t used to being nice like that and my natural awkward state was kicking in full force. Couldn’t she just decline once and for all or just agree and make me do my good action of the day? Was it too hard for her to make it easy for me? I sighed, if she knew she’d probably make it her job to push me further down in the awkward, as a revenge. Whatever, nevermind. I just had to act like I didn’t care at all. Because I totally didn’t care of course.
He kept staring at me. It was making me nervous already. I hated when people looked me directly in the eyes, or stared at me for too long. It made me think of what they would be thinking. And in most of the situations, it couldn’t be a good thing. It never was a good thing. Never.
“You say it like you’re an expert at knowing girls. Look, stranger, you aren’t. Girls use more than just make up. They cover their intentions too. If you really want to know a girl, you should stop judging her by the size of her skirt. The size of the skirt doesn’t tell any shit about a girl.” I replied. I didn’t even know why I said that of so sudden. Why did I even bother with that dude? He was annoying. I shouldn’t even be talking to him, anyway.
“Stop calling me legs, okay? I am not just a pair of legs, if you haven’t noticed. So top taking the part instead of the everything.” I crossed my arms and frowned. “You know what, I don’t even know why I’m here, talking to you anyway. Good-fucking-bye.” I said, and left the bottles on the shelf. I guess we had enough with that. Fuck Becca and Joe. They didn’t need me anymore. They actually never did. I shouldn’t be bounded to them. I turned my back on the dude and walked to the store’s door. I’m not paying for the exploded cans.
Her speech made quite the impression on me, I gotta admit it. Sure, she wasn’t just a pair of legs; she had a good brain going behind those pretty eyes, as well. I didn’t stop smirking as she turned around and walked out angrily. A lioness, that’s the mental image I had of her at that moment. A proud, graceful and deadly lioness. As I picked up the cans hastily and stuffed them into a plastic bag, I could see her reach the door of the store. I got twenty bucks from my wallet, handed them to Rose at the other side of the counter and told her to keep the change as an excuse for the cleaning she’d have to do, then took to half-walk hastily, half-run to the girl whose name I didn’t even know.
Okay, maybe I should explain what went on in my head at that moment because I don’t think it makes much sense for anybody but me: you see, I have those kind of… moments of epiphany where I realize, “hey, so everybody on this planet are fucking twats and I hate them for that, so why am I being a twat too already?”, which leads to me trying to make up for the twattitude as much as I can. This girl was about to go to a party and meet up with people she didn’t even like, buying alcohol she wouldn’t even drink and have a lame time, and on top of that I ruined her skirt. I think there’s only so much you can take in a day, and hers definitely needed some improvement.
“Hey,” I called out when catching up, “hey wait!”. I grabbed her by the wrist, wondering how I could make her listen to me. Hey, let’s be real, the chances were pretty low she’d ever want to see my face again, so I had to be very tactful, nice, and polite. To get an idea of how fucking hard that’d be, try imagining to eat a coconut. Not the inside of it, but biting down at the actual coconut. Yeah that’s not something you’d usually do I know, oh whatever, get creative, for fuck’s sake! So, back to my trying to cancel the twattitude. “So, hm… I was serious about buying you a new skirt, though. Like, you know. Can’t let you walk around with this soaked… Thing on. Might catch a cold.” I had to fight the smirk from coming back. Successfully, I guess…? I settled my Eastpack on my back again, waiting for her reaction.