Ten Below Zero(23)

I turned my face from the microfiber, gagging at the scent of stale, sweet-smelling vodka. As if I’d dreamt it, I heard the key being jammed into the lock on the apartment door, and high pitched giggles interrupting the calm of the morning.

“Which way does it turn?” The voice was loud and felt abusive to the air around me. Like the sound of a cymbal clapping in my ear. The giggles erupted again and I heard the sound of something falling in the hallway. Judging by the sounds of clattering, I’d guessed it was a purse. I heard, “Shit!” yelled in between laughter and the sound of something heavy collapsing against the door.

I knew my roommates well, better than they knew me. After all, my favorite hobby was observing other people. I didn’t engage in reckless behavior – my incident with Everett not included – I didn’t do anything that was fun but also dangerous. I didn’t just toe the line of caution. I hid under it.

So when my roommates fell into the door while it swung open I just watched. I’m sure some would see my behavior as odd, bordering on creepy, but I was fascinated by human nature. And my current view featured lots of legs and wild hair.

Jasmine caught my eye first. She towered on her hot pink heels. Her white shorts were short enough to be seen as beach wear – at least for me – and covered in stains. Her pink and white sequined tank hung off of her like it had been stretched within an inch of its life and finally gave up. Her bright white teeth flashed against her tan skin as she fell onto the floor on her back, heels cracking against the wood floor. Her long blonde hair was a mess of tangles all around her. I barely made out the sparkle of a tiara that was worn haphazardly in the giant mane of hair.

Carly was doubled over, holding her stomach as the laughs rolled off of her body. She flung her purse on the floor as she laughed so hard I half expected her stomach to slide out of her mouth and onto the floor. Where Jasmine was my polar opposite in personality, Carly was the in-between. Her current outfit of flip flops and jeans were something I would have chosen myself, more for comfort than style. But Carly compromised with Jasmine on the top – a deep v-neck tee that was orange. Not the kind of orange you’d see in the produce section, but more like in the tropics. It too was covered in stains.

I watched them quietly from the couch until Jasmine rolled onto her stomach and pushed the hair from her face when she spotted me. She squinted at me and propped herself up on her elbows. “What’s wrong with you?” she slurred. She looked like a drunk princess, with the tiara crooked on her head and her makeup smeared.

I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. I was lying on the couch like a normal person while she looked like she’d been dumpster diving, and there was something wrong with me?

Before I could answer, Carly turned her attention towards me and cocked her head to the side. “Are you okay?” she asked, walking closer to me. It was then that I remembered the tears that had come on so suddenly. Self-consciously I turned my face away from her scrutiny.

“I bet she stayed up all night studying instead of partying with us, Car,” Jasmine said, dismissing me instantly. I’d never been more thankful for her incorrect assumptions. Jasmine groaned and placed her hands on the ground as she pushed herself to standing. She wobbled a bit before grasping the column that separated the dining area from the kitchen and pulled her shoes off. “I’m surprised I didn’t ruin these,” she said loudly.

Carly collapsed on the end of the couch, just next to my feet and let her head fall back against the cushion. “That was so fun,” she said, eyes closed. I watched her lips tilt up in a small smile. She sighed.

Jasmine wobbled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Here, Car,” she said, grabbing a bottle of orange juice. “Drink this.”

It was my bottle of orange juice. And instead of pouring the juice into glasses like a civilized human, Jasmine lifted the bottle as if she was going to drink directly from the opening.

“Hey,” I barked, relaxing into the annoyance I felt. I embraced the annoyance. “That’s mine. If you want some, ask. And if I say yes, use a glass.”

There was complete silence. I looked at Carly who was staring at me like I had multiple heads attached to my body.

“You grew some balls, Park?” Jasmine asked, holding the jug of orange juice halfway to her mouth.

I was normally closed off, avoided confrontation like the plague. And yet, I’d just told Jasmine off for the first time since I’d met her.

I stared at her, glaring. It was too early in the morning and I was far too sleep-deprived to deal with this. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I was also a mess of confusing emotions. “Use a glass, Jasmine.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a small smile playing on her lips. Jasmine often looked at me like this; like I was a toy she liked playing with. Except there was nothing innocent about it. She was going to test me, I knew it. A moment later, she lifted the jug towards her mouth, eyeing me defiantly.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stood up and walked towards her. I raised my hand, causing Jasmine to flinch. And then I smacked the orange juice out of her hand. It fell to the tile and exploded, spraying orange juice spectacularly all over the cabinets and floor.

Instantly, shock registered. Had I really just done that? I looked at Jasmine and she was just as shocked as I was. She looked to Carly and my eyes followed. Carly sat on the end of the couch, hand over her mouth, her eyes as wide as saucers.