but if I do then I might miss you, babe
It's complicated and stupid
Lady GaGa, "Lovegame"
"So are you going to do it?" Sharpay tilts her head in his direction, tipping her glass slightly to empty its last contents into her mouth. She smirks roguishly in my face. "Kiss the face off that sucker, I mean?"
Before I have the chance to open my mouth and ask her which sucker she is really talking about – or even roll my eyes, for that matter – my dearest sister, tipsy and bitchy as she is, snorts out her drink in vast quantities. "Of course she's not," she says bitingly, slurring her words slightly in dripping disdain. She makes an ugly face at me that I ignore meekly. "Like hell she will. She doesn't know how to live, remember?"
"I do too," I spit back, inwardly cringing as her words hit home. It's just for the heck of it - the spitting - because, seriously, who cares about her snappy jibes? It's a perpetual and ever-lasting thing, and I've grown used to it over the torturous years spent together.
"You see?" she sneers at Sharpay, ignoring me pointedly. "You see? She just knows how to make childish comebacks. That's all—"
"Why did we bring her here?" Sharpay cuts in, directing her annoyed inquiry at me, and points a manicured talon - pardon - at my sister. "If I remember correctly, we came here to have fun. Not because we wanted to sit through Shania Montez's selfish bitching out. Again." My heroine. I giggle in delight as Shania rolls her eyes grumpily, but don't look at her. "God knows we get enough of it everyday, as it is."
Shania slumps in her seat, head drooping uncharacteristically and hair dark brown hair falling all over her face. She brings her hands into her lap, and even though her face's hidden behind her thick hair, I can just feel her sulky pout. Guess I know her too well, har har. "You guys suck," she whines.
"Come on, Shania," I say, apatheticness giving way to annoyance, and finally muster enough energy to scowl at her. Wow, would you look at that; I'm scowling. "You're not the only one feeling... what was it you said, 'alone and loveless', okay? If you don't believe that, just look at me." My scowl drops as I hit a leg of the table with my stiletto'd foot to emphasize my point, and morphs into a wince. "But I, unlike you, am not bitching about it so much. So... just suck up, I dunno."
Shania lifts her head and points a finger in Sharpay's direction sulkily. "She's not loveless and alone. You don't even count, since you're always alone and loveless."
Oh, I love you too. I roll my eyes, wanting to tell her just how irrational and selfish that sounds, but decide against it since my little speech took up all of my inspired energy and more. Sharpay turns her head in Shania's direction and raises her eyebrow slowly, smirking humourlessly. "Bitch. It's not my problem your boyfriend decided he didn't want you to be his bitch anymore."
Shania's eyes flash and she opens her mouth to counter, but then her shoulders slump and she ends up squawking weirdly. I'm relieved.
Sharpay turns to me. Uh oh. "So?"
I let my eyes linger, acting nonchalant and absent-minded. "So what?"
"You know what," she snaps, jerking her head in the direction of their table. "That."
"That," I say, blinking slowly and nodding dumbly on purpose. I should get an award for stalling and delaying things. "I see."
An annoyed moan demands our attention from my sister's direction. "Don't waste your time, Shar," my sister mumbles from her seat. Of course she's not going to give up any chance to put me down. And me? I'm just going to stretch and yawn as if I don't give a damn. Which, really, I don't. "She's not gonna do it. Let's just go and get the party started. I'm bored as hell."
Sharpay doesn't spare her a glance. "You shut the hell up, self-absorbed bitch. She's given you a chance and listened to your bitching for half an hour, now you have to let her do her thing," she says in a flat, no-nonsense tone. Then she looks at me and grins victoriously, and I find myself panicking a little. She's not going to let me back out of this, is she? No, I decide as I watch her stare me down, she isn't. There are a few things that get her so worked up, and this is one of it. "Gabriella, you're doing it. You're so doing it."
"She's right," I concede grudgingly, looking over at the dance floor nervously. Act sad and wry; don't sound evasive. "Shania's right. Let's just dance or something."
"No," Sharpay growls, as if she knows just what I'm trying to do. Shania and I both look over at her in surprise - the growling doesn't become her - but her eyes are trained onto The Table. "Let's just kiss the hell off that blonde guy and get so drunk we don't remember a thing," she mimicks irritatedly.
I stare at her, slightly wide-eyed. Five minutes ago, it'd just been 'kiss the hell out some guy', no specifications. At this rate, she'd be telling me exactly what style of kissing I should employ. This has to stop. "NO. No. I mean, no."
Sharpay's eyes get swamped with a determined hardness and she leans back in her chair, looking at me intently. Her eyes flick over to their table for a second thoughtfully and she turns to look at me again. "You said you wanted to live out," she says accusingly. "That's what I'm trying to get you to do. At least do it to prove to her that you can do it." She points at Shania.
Doing something so brazen and whoretastic just to prove to Shania that I'm not, in fact, the 'Virgin Sacrifice of the Century' – as she's fondly dubbed me – sounds like a petty (but tempting anyway) reason, but when I look at Sharpay to find her staring at my sister sourly, I'm not sure she shares my sentiments.
Inhaling, I look over at their table. Sharpay says they're all West High graduates, the 'elite', and they're all doing some catching up after college. She even knows all of their names. How, I have no idea. And let's be honest; I don't particularly care. I'm young and I'm single, and really, I can tell that there are some great catches sitting around that table. That's all I care about right now.
Who am I kidding? I have a sudden urge to chortle as I look over at them, frowning, and sip at my apple juice. This is not me. I can't do it, so why am I even contemplating doing this? Are those years of reading stupid romantic cliches finally catching up and robbing me of every bit of decency? Am I really so desperate to get rid of my single-dom? Or is it just the hormones? I mentally roll my eyes. Yeah, sure, 'kissing the hell' out of some random guy is really going to make him fall head over heels for me and give us a happy secure future. Sure.
Impulsiveness is just not my thing, however hard I try. And that's not saying much since being impulsive isn't something one can master or accomplish over time. Shania is the impulsive one out of us and I'm fine with that - mostly. Impulsiveness leads to messiness and trouble that no one can clear up. But on the other hand, it also leads to fun and adventure - and my life is seriously lacking in that department.
I need alcohol, I decide suddenly. I need to rid myself of these stupid introspective and sobering thoughts. Fast. Just as I make up my mind, a waitress passes us and Sharpay beckons her over.
"Vodka cranberry!" Sharpay shouts, looking not very sober.
"Vodka Cranberry!" my sister repeats, then turns to look at me, taking it upon herself to order for me. How caring of her. "Just a glass of--"
"Vodka Cranberry," I say, smirking slightly and not looking at Shania. It's common knowledge that I suck at holding my booze, but whatever. It's time I just frickin' stop thinking and do something I always think of doing.
My sister raises an eyebrow at me as Sharpay claps her hand lightly, grinning. "Now you're talking."
This is not good, my brains chants pompously, as we stare around the place ridiculously silently. I shouldn't be here, acting as if I can be carefree and fun. I'm not the person I'm trying to shape myself up into. Or maybe I'm not trying to shape myself into anyone - not really. Maybe I'm just craving feeling. Something. Anything.
Sometimes I think it's better this way, with me 'alone and loveless', because if I had a boyfriend, I'd just end up feeling guilty that I'm not making an effort, and unhappy and smothered. Hell, I would probably end up picturing said boyfriend with someone who'd fit him better - say, someone who's not me. And then I'd feel guilty all over again. How ungrateful do I sound? And how selfish?
But then again...
I'm not this meek and shy around people I don't know, I think. So why act like a mute angel here, since I don't really know anyone here except for my friend and sister? It's not like I have to kiss them; no, I have to kiss a stranger. When there's little chance of you making an acquaintance with someone in the future, you don't particularly care what that person thinks of you. But since there is achance - however small - that you may bump into the person in later life... I tend to keep my head down and steer clear of... well, people. It's not like I'm going to sit down and have an extensive chat about European History with the guy, so why not?
So what's the point? Why kiss and run when you're not gaining anything from it? Maybe, I muse as I see two entangled bodies shove their tongues down each other's throat, life isn't all about gaining or losing. No, it's about living. I roll my eyes.
Wow, I'm actually giving this a thought.
Our drinks arrive and I glug mine down without thinking. So this is what it's all about. Perhaps, I muse, my indifference is the problem. I'm mostly a withdrawn, apathetic kind of girl, too comfortable in my coccoon that I don't want to leave it however promising and tempting my surroundings are. Unless... unless... aha, a shining beacon presents itself in front of me.
Unless I'm thrust into them and get a taste of them.
My eyes widen slightly as I realize that I've been looking over at their table all this time. Too intently, maybe. Oops. As I look away hurriedly, I catch a guy's eye fleetingly who's standing in the shadows - wasn't he at their table just now? - and look away embarrassedly.
Some thing clicks in the mess that is my mind as I peek back at him, but I don't know what. All I know is I'm doing this.
Don't think, I command my overachieving brain. Do not think.
I slam my glass down, and see Sharpay peer at me curiously out of the corner of my eye. I get up from my chair, swaying slightly, and take a deep breath. I smooth down my skirt and fix my top a little, ruffling my hair a little.
Then I start stuttering - or what I hope would be stuttering - towards where he's standing, holding my head high but keeping my gaze lowered. Sane thoughts come rushing back to me, and you know what I do? I ignore them. That's right.
I'm an impulsive woman; hear me roar.
And just like that I find myself skidding to a subtle stop near him - behing him, specifically - blankly, only that I don't stop. I flutter my fingers against the back of his neck, and just like that he's turning around, eyebrows raised and all oh-so-tough.
I pause, furrowing my brows. Then I grab his collar and drag his lips to mine.
As soon as his lips touch mine, I'm flooded with feeling - oh, am I feeling - and my eyes go wide in a oh-my-gosh-why-did-I-ever-waste-time-in-doing-this manner. Though he's stiff under my touch, I'm determined to make it a little longer than just a peck, and so I reach my other hand in his hair, weaving its silkiness with my fingers. My eyes are open as I bite down on his lip, and all too soon, his arms encircle my waist, emotion exploding inside in a manner I didn't think was possible. And you know what? He's the one to slip his tongue inside my mouth first.
Unfortunately, at that moment, alarm bells go off in my brain and I stumble back gracelessly, mind reeling. What am I doing? What--
I look at him and... Oh my God. He's not a stranger. He's anything but a stranger.
He's only the guy I've been hoping to see for six years. Only the guy who appeared out of nowhere and kissed my cheek in that carnival I attended when I was sixteen. Only the guy who gave me the best frickin' kiss of my life just now, the guy who's just crossed his arm and raised his eyebrow at me with no expression on his face whatsoever as if what we just did was nothing.
He's not a stranger. The thought beeps inside my mind continuously, and yet all I do is stare at him.
"Don't judge," I tell him unthinkingly.
Then I turn around and make my way to the exit, rolling my eyes wryly.
Well, impulsiveness may not be my thing, but payback totally is.