Seth
Kaden’s been rubbing and cracking his neck all afternoon. I’m starting to think it’s more of a stress thing than a physical thing. Maybe it’s anxiety. That can express itself in all kinds of ways.
Kaden’s ringing up his last customer at the same time I finish the clean-up of my station.
When the door falls shut, I walk over. He’s chafing his neck so hard, the skin is turning slightly pink.
I rub my hands together, warming them up before I put them on his shoulders, but he flinches and shrugs me off.
“I’m good, dude,” he says, moving away from me. My stomach falls forty floors, and I feel sick.
Shit!
I knew I took it too far the last time. I’m such a fucking idiot. Shitshitshit!
I just stand there, while Radiohead is singing about being a creep and not belonging and it’s fucking me they’re singing about.
Fuck!
I take deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth. Nose. Mouth. Nose. Mouth.
Rebuild. Rebuild. Rebuild.
Kaden moves over to the bathroom, washes his hands and Iggy walks past me from the back door, smelling like coffee and cigarettes.
“So, I just got off the phone with my cousin,” she says, dropping down on the couch. Kaden plants himself on the other couch.
“I told you, I was asked to be her bridesmaid?”
I have to move. I can’t just stand here. I take another breath, trying to shake off everything before I slowly make my way over and sit down next to her.
“Yeah, well, she just called to remind me to cover up my tattoos for the wedding day,” she scoffs. “Like, what the fuck?”
“Seriously?” Kaden frowns.
“Yeah! She said, and I quote ‘You know I don’t mind them, but Luke’s grandparents are coming’. And I was like, so? And then she said, ‘Well, they’re sort of old fashioned and I just don’t want any drama on my wedding day’.”
“What drama? Because of your tattoos?”
“Apparently,” she says, making a face. “So, then I said that maybe they should cover up, and stick their old fashioned POV’s up their asses.”
Kaden snorts. “And?”
“And then I hung up the phone, and then my mom called and…” she sighs, leaning back, crossing her arm. “I have to cover up my tattoos.” She pushes her bottom lip out, pouting.
She’s got a lot of tattoos. And I’m not saying I get where they’re coming from because I don’t. But sometimes you have to adapt. I don’t tell her that, though. Instead, I pat her leg.
“Tell you what?” I say. “When I get married, I’ll let you—”
“You want to get married?” She whips her head my way, and I freeze.
“Uhm—” I glance at Kaden, but he’s fucking unreadable.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I never pictured you as the type,” she says, glancing at Kaden and back at me. “I mean, you’ve never even had a boyfriend. I didn’t think you—”
“Yeah, no. No, you’re right. I’m not.” I stroke my hands over my jeans and lean back, spreading my legs wider.
“I’m more of a fuck-em-and-leave-em kind of guy.
” I force a chuckle, and I can feel Kaden’s eyes on me, but I don’t look his way.
I clear my throat. “Look, they’re stupid as fuck!
You should be allowed to be you, and not have to cover up to fit someone else’s idea of you. That shit’s just wrong.”
She nods. “Right? I shouldn’t have to change because of someone else.”
“Right.”
Hypocrisy is a kingdom, and I’m their queen.