Edward plants his hand right in the middle of my open textbook and leans down on me with his camera. "Smile like a doughnut."
I whack him in the bladder and he bends with a curse. "Fuck you," he hisses, and heads for the bathroom. It really is too easy to screw with the weak-bladdered.
Problem is, that defense only works once. Edward returns from the bathroom with a determined look on his face and twenty-three shots left on his roll of film. "This week's assignment was portraiture, so hold still."
It's Thursday afternoon. His photography assignment is due at eight-thirty on Friday morning.
"You want some coffee?" I offer him my thermos as he snaps a shot.
"Very funny." Caffeine is the mortal enemy of the small-bladdered population.
"Vitamin water?"
"Hold still. And smile."
I smile and give him the finger. He slaps my hand out of the way and takes another shot.
"Monsoons. Niagara Falls. Whitewater rafting."
"Stop it."
He lowers the camera to adjust the aspect ratio and I pluck the glasses off his face - the ones I gave him shit for because the heavy frames make him look like a hipster douchebag.
"Bella," he warns me, trying to snatch them back. That lazy right eye of his is coming in handy; his depth perception is shit.
I stuff the glasses down my shirt where he can't get them without doing things that would definitely qualify as sexual harassment. Edward huffs and I hold out my hand for his camera. He gives it to me.
"Gimme back my glasses."
I oblige.
"But seriously, I need to finish this assignment."
"Take photos of your cat."
Edward shakes his head. "Mr. Fliss has pretty much banned me from submitting any more pictures of Bobo."
Even I have to admit, Edward is bizarrely attached to that inert ball of fuzz. I swear, I haven't seen Bobo move from the couch in two years. But he purrs when Edward touches him, so I guess he must still be alive. Maybe he's had a stroke and nobody noticed.
"Will you just pose for a few shots when you're finished studying?" He pouts oh so convincingly. It's the last free period of the day. After this I have Chem, and then I'm out of here.
"Can I come over tonight? Maybe I could photograph your dog…"
"Flashbulbs scare Jake. He bites."
Edward winces. "I know." He goes back to needling me, begging for five minutes of mediocre posing.
"Nah, I've got shit to do tonight."
"What shit? I can photograph you doing shit."
"I'm gonna dye my hair again."
A slow grin spreads over Edward's face. "What color?" Right now my hair is purple, but the dye is starting to fade and I look like I cracked a highlighter over my head.
"Scarlet."
"I like."
"Dude, don't leer. You look like a child molester."
Edward folds up that grin and tucks it away. He's such a hapless dork, with way too much enthusiasm and not enough self-awareness. The main reason why he makes such a good friend, aside from being loyal, is that he's consistently entertaining.
"I'll come over around four-thirty."
I jump in the shower to wash my hair before Edward comes over. My hair is getting really long now, but I haven't decided how I want to cut it. I'm tempted to buzz one section and leave the rest long, but that style probably has a totally hideous growing-out phase. That, and I'm pretty sure Edward would bitch and moan incessantly if I cut my hair too short. He's got a bit of a love affair going on with my hair.
I put on an old t-shirt and some sweatpants and set up to dye my hair. Edward lets himself in, camera already turned on, and welcomes himself into my bathroom.
He takes one look at me and says, "Stripes are not your friend."
"Dude, you are so gay sometimes."
"Am not." He sits on the counter and snaps a picture. "You have this charming, I'm-so-pissed-off-and-way-too-good-for-you milieu," he says.
"Well somebody has to balance out your I-sucked-a-unicorn's-cock-and-glitter-came-out cheerfulness."
"It wasn't glitter. It was rainbows." He snaps another picture. "You'd like me better if I was an asshole?" Edward is referring to my tendency to fall for complete and total douche-tards.
"I'd like to see you try to be an asshole." He just doesn't have it in him to be anything but my happy-go-lucky, innocent-as-pie best buddy.
He snaps a few more photos while I apply the dye cream, but mostly he saves his film while we play would-you-rather.
"Would you rather give up bacon for a year or give up sex?"
"Sex. I can have mouth-orgasms from bacon."
"Would you rather get a tattoo on your forehead or a genital piercing?"
"Depends. What's the tattoo?"
"A unicorn shooting glitter out of its cock."
"I thought you said it was rainbows?"
"Just play the damn game."
Edward helps me rinse the dye out over the sink. He bounces on the balls of his feet like a little kid and says, "It's really red," like Christmas just came early.
"I like it." I won't get the full effect until it's dry, so I take out the blowdryer and plug it in.
Edward takes the dryer out of my hand. "Let me dry it for you." I give him the look, the one specifically engineered to warn him when he's on the verge of out-queering himself. He pouts and says, "You don't let me play with your hair enough."
"Fine." I give him the brush. It's not that hard to make him happy.
Edward switches on the dryer, takes his time to adjust the settings - and then shuts it off again.
"I have to pee first."
"Okay. Go. I'll get started." I take the blowdryer and switch it on. Edward unplugs it.
"Uh, can I get some privacy?"
"For what? You pee, like, fifty times a day. This is a non-event." I plug the blowdryer back in and begin with my bangs. Edward huffs. This isn't going to be much of a standoff. The longest I've seen him hold it for is five minutes, and he nearly pissed himself that time.
Edward grudgingly unzips. The toilet is behind me and my body blocks any view I might have in the mirror, so it's not like he has an audience. I'm almost proud when he tries to make me uncomfortable - Edward rests his elbow on my shoulder like I'm a leaning post.
"I was thinking," he says over the dryer.
"What?"
"If I were to pee on your leg, would that make you my girlfriend?"
"I wouldn't recommend trying it."
Edward pretends to eye my leg. He finishes peeing and mutters something about a wasted opportunity.
We don't talk much while he dries my hair. I just watch him in the mirror, all contented and smiley, while he plays with his favorite toy. He avoids the question whenever I ask why he likes my hair so much, but I think it has something to do with the softness and abundance of it.
"Done," he declares, and sets the dryer aside. Edward combs his fingers through my bright scarlet locks and says, "Can I braid it or something?"
"Sometimes I think you're a thirteen-year-old girl reincarnated."
Edward puts on a high-pitched voice and says, "For Christmas, I want my period." I burst out laughing and he snaps another picture.
"I think that shot's gonna be my favorite."
"If I look like a spazz, don't show it in class."
"You won't look like a spazz." Edward tickles my side. "I love making you laugh."
"You're good at it."
He takes a photo of our reflection in the bathroom mirror.
"So." He slings an arm around my shoulders and studies our reflection. "Since my peeing-on-your-leg proposal was a bust..."
I snort.
"Wanna fall into mutual weirdness with me?"
I give Edward the eye. "Seuss?"
"You've gotta admit, it's kind of appropriate for us." Before I can formulate a snappy comeback he leans down and kisses me. It is such an Edward kiss - all sweet and sunny. Then he tries to pull back and the hinge of his glasses gets caught on my hair.
"Ow, ow, ow!"
"Sorry! Shit…" He takes off his glasses and blinks owlishly while I try to untangle the knot. "You okay?"
"I'll live." I place his glasses back on his face and he bites his lip.
"I'm sorry, that wasn't very smooth."
"Sorry dude, but I think you're genetically incapable of being smooth."
"Deal breaker?"
"Fuck no."
He nods decisively. "Good." He tosses his glasses aside, and we continue where we left off.
