Western Waves (Compass 3)

“Screw you, Beast.”

“With or without the lights on, Cinderstella?”

She grew flush and stuttered a bit before shifting around uncomfortably. “Listen, neither one of us wants to be here, so let’s stay out of one another’s way, okay? Six months will be over before you know it, and we can both move on with our lives. Soon enough, we’ll be nothing more than a distant memory to each other.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Fan-freaking-tastic!”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you always have to get the last word in?”

“No!”

“Good.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Jeez, woman! Can you stop saying anything? You talk too much.”

“You speak too little.”

I went quiet.

She kept talking.

I huffed.

She huffed back dramatically. “Huff!” she shouted.

“What the fuck was that?”

She puffed out her chest. “I huffed at your huffing.”

I considered if this woman was truly unwell, but I didn’t speak back because I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to keep the conversation going.

We were the odd couple, and a part of me doubted she’d be able to go without talking to me over the next six months. I never realized how much of a privilege silence had been in my life until that very moment.

“Be nicer to her,” Connor said.

“What?”

“You heard me. Stop being a dick. You have to break down your barriers a bit, Damian,” Connor commented as we sat in the theater room of the home after dinner. Aaliyah was in bed for the night, and Stella was doing whatever it was that Stella did. Probably dancing under the moon and talking to the ocean or some weird shit.

Connor suggested we watch a movie on the big screen, and I agreed. Though, for the past twenty minutes or so, we’d been trying to figure out how to get the movie to play. He finally gave up and plopped down in one of the ridiculously comfortable chairs and was giving me a scolding.

“My barriers are fine,” I disagreed. “Boundaries are good.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But coldness is not. Stella’s a nice person.”

“What’s your point?”

“You’re rude to her.”

“I’m not rude. I’m straightforward.”

He laughed. “Your straightforwardness can come off as being rude to most of the world.”

“Why is it my job to control how most of the world feels?”

He pointed a finger at me. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Being defensive. I’m not here to get you wound up, buddy. I’m here as your best friend. You asked me if I had tips on how you could make this situation work with Stella, so you end up with what you want—the money to help your charity.”

“Yes.”

“So, this is me being a helpful friend. You gotta be nicer to her.”

“I’m not a nice person.”

“Bullshit. You’re the nicest person I know. You just don’t show the world it as often. Last year, when you were there for Aaliyah during our hardships, you were beyond nice. You were kind. And patient. And the best friend in the whole damn world. You are the most genuine person on this planet, Damian. I’m not saying you must be Superman to Stella, but… just ease up a little. It’s clear she’s sensitive.”

“She cries over everything.”

“And you cry over nothing. Complete opposites. Just meet her halfway at least. You aren’t alone in this crazy situation. Stella is living it out day by day, too. She’s not the villain in this story, Damian. She’s the leading lady. She’s a good one.”

“What if she isn’t? What if she’s awful and just hides it well?”

He shrugged. “You’re a master at reading people from the moment you spend more than five minutes with them. From the time you’ve spent with Stella, has she shown any signs of being cruel?”

No.

None.

The complete opposite.

Was she wacky as fuck? Yes. But cruel? Not an ounce.

“I’m not telling you to fall in love with her even though I’d be down for that, too. All I’m really saying is to give her a break. She’s going through this shitstorm right beside you. It’s you two against the world, really.”

I huffed and puffed, annoyed that he was spot-on.

“Are you guys having trouble?” Stella interrupted the conversation as she walked into the theater space. She was drenched, drying her curly hair with a towel. I was almost certain she’d taken a dive into the ocean like she’d done the night before.

“We couldn’t get it to work,” Connor said, holding up five different remotes.

“I can help you with that.” She walked over and grabbed the remotes. Within seconds, the screen powered on. She asked what we wanted to watch, Connor told her, and she set it all up.

“You can hit this button to shut it all off when done. And if you want, there’s a beverage fridge in the back corner right there. I can also make you some popcorn if you’d like,” she offered.

“It’s all right,” I said.

“I’d love popcorn!” Connor exclaimed as if he didn’t just eat two baskets of bread at dinner.