8
ERICA
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They’re almost dry now, the first foot done, the second one close behind.
Painting my toenails is so cathartic.
Zoe enters the cabin, looking forlorn or something.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“’Sup?” I reply.
She knows I’m still angry. That’s why she’s pussyfooting around the cabin, keeping her distance and staring at me every few seconds.
I rise from the bed and start getting myself dressed.
I took a shower about fifteen minutes ago, so everything feels fresh, skin still warm, hair damp at the ends, the clean scent of soap hanging around me.
Zoe speaks up. “I’m sorry about yelling at you. And it was messed up what happened at the bonfire.”
I cut her off. “It’s all good.”
I get off the bed. Zoe sits on hers instead.
“Erica, please, I’m really sorry. I don’t like when we fight, and I was a jerk to you.”
Looking down as I unfold one of my garments to put on, I say, “See, I would believe you if you didn’t like King.”
Zoe’s face snaps up to meet mine. Watching her try to make some excuse now.
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “No, I—”
Holding up a hand and cutting her off, I reply, “It’s obvious, Zosha.
I mean, you mentioned you like someone, but you never mentioned who he is.
You never showed me a picture. You blush around King, you’re always wanting his approval.
Then on top of that—” emphasizing before continuing, “you’d rather me be with Jun, knowing how toxic he is, rather than King. ”
Zoe is quiet for a minute. She scoffs, then says, “I’ve liked King, yes, but it’s an innocent crush. It’s not like what you’re thinking.”
Smirking, I glare at her. “Now I can’t trust anything you say, though.”
“King and I are just friends. Especially now.”
“So, did you like him back then? When you knew I liked him?”
“I was attracted to him,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, eyes darting everywhere.
“It doesn’t matter. He likes someone else anyway,” I huff.
“Who?”
“The singer at his church, Aaliyah. She’s perfect for him. Like, if God made two people and they were from the same mold, it would be him and her.”
Zoe stammers, “In the perfect world, I would have a husband like King—not King exactly.”
She puts up both hands, emphasizing. “But someone like him. I aspire to be like him. That’s all,” she says emphatically.
“That’s all I ask. That is all . I’m not in love with him or anything.
I’m not like—that’s not the person I was, it’s nothing like that,” she fumbles over her words, trying to explain.
Turning to her with hands on my hips and back to the cabin door, I face the cozy but tense interior of the cabin. “ Swear on your dad’s grave,” I say.
Zoe’s eyes widen as she sits there on the bed. Then they narrow. “Why would you say that?” she asks, clearly upset.
“I want to know that you’re honest.”
“My dad hasn’t been dead that long, Erica.”
“I didn’t mean it disrespectfully to your dad. I just know that you love your father, and—”
Zoe cuts me off, standing up, yelling, “Why would you even bring that into something like this? Swearing on my dad’s grave? Like, who even says something like that? What is wrong with you?”
“Relax. I’m sorry . I wasn’t saying anything offensive about your father.”
“Yes, but you were making it some kind of joke. Trivializing my father’s death.”
My eyes narrow. “I would never do that, Zoe. You know me.”
“ Clearly not enough. And you don’t have to worry about anything because you still have your dad.”
This overly sensitive shit is just too much for me. I grab my sweater and leave the cabin.
My body is tired as hell but I need to be away from her for a while.
As I walk out of the cabin Zoe and I share, right across in the dark, I see Jun smoking weed against the pillar of his own cabin. I try to walk a little further away.
“You look like you had a rough day,” Jun says.
I scoff. “No, thanks to you .”
“You want some sticky or not?” He looks at me.
My body halts.
I mean, even though I don’t particularly want to be around Jun, that sounds like a great idea to be honest. So I walk over to Jun, look at him warily, and then take a puff of his weed.
It’s actually really good. I pull the blunt to my lips, inhale deep, hold it for a second, then exhale slow through my nose and mouth, watching the smoke curl up into the night air.
“Where did you get this?” I ask.
Jun smiles as he takes another drag. “A supplier that comes here sometimes.”
We banter back and forth about that for a bit, how often the guy shows up, how the quality stays consistent. Then it gets quiet for a while. Jun passes the blunt back to me.
“Look, don’t take it personal what I did,” he says. “I didn’t know you’d be in your feelings.”
Taking a puff and passing it back, I say, “It’s all good though. I guess I had the wrong expectations.”
Jun smirks at me mischievously. “You want to join in next time?”
Coughing on a puff of smoke, I reply emphatically, “No. I’m gonna take a little walk and then get back and get some rest. Thanks to your—” hesitating, I point to his blunt, “that helped.”
“You’re welcome. Sleep tight. Don’t let the ass chomper bite.”
As I walk back to the cabin Zoe and I share, I look over my shoulder at Jun, scrunching my brow, amused because he says the weirdest things.
Zoe is already asleep, or at least I think so. I take off my clothes. I actually feel exhausted, like I’m coming down with something. Maybe I’ve been running around too much.
As I try to get some rest, I fixate on the kiss King gave me at Christmas. How rough he was. The way he pushed me up against the house like that, with such dominance. I chuckle a little bit with my eyes closed because I had no idea King had that in him.
That was nice, though. Even though it was for a short while, it was really nice. The best kiss I’ve ever received. And it’s from a guy who thinks having sex is the worst thing ever.
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