I slump to the driver’s seat with furrowed brows. These brief glances are starting to leave a
sour taste in my mouth. Why can’t he show up more often? Or at least come talk to me and tell me what he wants.
Ugh. Why am I not seeing this as a horrible thing?
Muting my chaotic mind, I start the engine and turn the radio’s volume all the way up. Some unknown rock music blasts inside the car. I allow it to transport me anywhere but inside my thoughts.
Once I reach the restaurant’s car park, I dash out of my Audi. The car parked next to mine left little space, and I struggle to get my handbag out. When I finally pull it free, my keys drop to the ground.
With a groan, I hunch down to retrieve them. When I stand up, a finger taps on my shoulder. I jump, heart racing and chest tightening.
Oh, God. Please no.
Please yes.
“Hey sexy, fancy a shag?” my friend Owen asks.
I release a breath. Whether it’s out of relief or disappointment, no idea.
Spinning around, I swing my handbag and hit him in the chest. “You scared the hell out of me! And I told you a million times that I don’t care for,” I make finger quotes, “ ‘a shag’.”
“Hon.” He give me one of his playboy winks. “One day you will.”
“Stop with the sexual references, Owen.” I laugh and nudge him on the shoulder. “We’re friends, for God’s sake!”
His gaze gleams with deviltry as he leans forward. “Ever heard of friends with benefits?”
If it isn’t for national beauty preservation, I would ruin his face with my nails. Owen might be attractive by societal standards, but to me, he’s like the obnoxious brother who won’t shut up.
Before I can retort, a silver-haired girl brushes past me to hit Owen on the chest. “Ever heard of shut the fuck up, arsehole?”
I bite my lip to suppress a smile.
Oh boy, a war is coming.
“Hello, Sydney.” Owen’s voice mimics the tag line from Scream, which sends Sydney fuming every time.
“Fuck. Off.” She smacks him twice, then turns to plant a kiss on my cheek. “A sod like him doesn’t deserve that face. How about we ruin it for him?”
Laughing, I interlace my arm with Sydney’s and walk to the building. “I was having the exact same thought.”
“I’m still over here if anyone cares.” Owen follows close behind us. “Say, Mae, me and witch-head here,” he points to Sydney, which earns him a glare, “are usually late. What’s your excuse?”
I wave my free hand. “Got caught in painting.”
“As always.” Sydney green eyes twinkle. “Ever since primary school, you used to get lost whenever painting.”
At least I hadn’t been possessed by whatever dark entity back then. I would do anything to go back to that innocence.
Go away, omniscient thought.
Today is to have fun with my closest friends and forget about everything.
Contentment fills my chest when the three of us sit like the old days. We have been inseparable close friends since young age. Although Sydney chose theatre and Owen opted for the police academy, we still meet on a weekly basis.
We settle in the cosy restaurant decorated with a palette of warm colours and make our orders. The tones of honey-coloured wallpaper against the soft yellow curtains are aesthetically pleasing.
“Hey, Mae,” Owen says. “Any chance you will become a renewed artist soon? Should I start collecting your autographs?”