"Now what?"
I sat up and my bare feet touched the cool wood. I stood up and walked towards the bathroom. My cold feet were greeted by a warm cream rug. I glanced at the pale orange washcloth, stained black with mascara. I picked it up, crushed it into my fist, and threw it on the ground.
I pushed beige shower curtain, bent down, and turned the stainless steel faucet. I turned the knob to the highest possible temperature and undressed. I spent nearly an hour enjoying how the sting of the scorching water felt as it touched my body. I tried to wash away my skin, become a different person. It took me sixty stubborn minutes to give up.
I returned to my room and began fishing through my dresser drawers for something to wear. Long charcoal tank top, thin turquoise zip-up hoodie, distressed gray skinny jeans. I slid a comb a few times through my tangled curls until my hair reached a mild form of decency. I grabbed a silver shoulder bag off the messy floor and walked downstairs. The steps creaked loudly but I was the only one who could hear them. Eerie. I reached the bottom step and stared at the mocha paneled door. My eyes traced the rectangular imprints like a maze. I couldn't take the silence. My brain instantly filled the void with screaming thoughts. I twisted the copper doorknob and stepped onto the olive green coir doormat, slamming the door behind me.
I walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, kicking pebbles and breaking twigs. The rays of sunlight dried my curly hair. I didn't know where I was heading. I didn't care. I kept this up for an hour, until I realized I was starving. My mindless wandering lead me to The Dot. Go figure. I slowly crept up the two stairs and stepped inside. I was surrounded with the comfort of reassuring familiarity. I glanced to my left and noticed dark brown hair piled on top of a girl's head, in a messy bun with pieces hanging down. I took a few steps closer and faced her.
"Imogen?" It wasn't a question. I was just pleased to see her and couldn't really choke out any words besides her name.
"Hey Bianca," she said as she gently closed her book and placed it on the table in front of her. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Can I sit?" I asked and she nodded her head with a slight smile. I pulled out a metal chair to her right and sat down. She seemed way to serene. It perplexed me.
"How was prom?" She asked, her voice monotone. She doesn't know. She didn't hear. Should I play cool? Should I confess? I felt drops of sweat form on my forehead. "Why's your face getting all red? You ok?"
"I, err, umm, uhh," were the only words I could manage to sputter.
"That bad, huh? She took a sip of her tea. Well there's always next year. Maybe next time, your date will be single." She giggled, in a friendly way, smiled, and gently patted my shoulder once.
"Yeah, hah hah, that'd be great," I replied, hopefully she couldn't detect my fake laugh or my nervousness. "So, what kind of tea is that?" I relied on my sense of vision in order to try to change the subject because my brain clearly isn't working properly.
"Green tea with honey. Want a sip?" She smiled again. It made me feel guilty.
"Nah, I'll get my own. I don't want to take yours." I replied, trying to ease my guilt. I got up and walked a few paces to the counter. "Umm, I'll have a green tea please," I asked the barista, stumbling on words.
His chocolate lips smiled. "You look pretty tense, I'd suggest chamomile."
Why is everyone so chipper today? "Sure," I responded. He made me my tea, I paid, and walked back to Imogen's table. She had her nose buried in her book, but immediately put it down when I returned.
"Oooh, that looks good! Chamomile?" She questioned, seeming enthused with me and my choice of beverage.
"Yeah, that barista suggested it." I forced a smile and took a sip. It scalded my tongue, but tasted pretty good.
"Hot?" She asked. "You should've waited for it to cool." Another giggle.
"Yeah, silly me." I replied, tilting my head and forcing another smile. "So you really heard nothing about prom?"
"Nope, I spent all of last night reading," she confessed. "Too busy to be social."
"What book is it?" I asked, taking the subject off of me.
"Jane Eyre, I've read it a dozen times, but it's such a good read."
I smiled at her and my eyes wandered off to the window. I saw Drew walking up the steps. I choked on a sip of tea. "Oh my god, he's here. I'm so not ready for this."
"Drew? Go to the bathroom, I'll cover for you." She's such a good friend. I don't deserve her kindness. Especially after robbing her of her birthday money. Not wanting to take any chances, I immediately got up and ran to the single-stalled unisex bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Drew walked straight towards Imogen. "Was that Bianca I just saw?"
Her eyes darted to the left, then right, then met with Drew's. "Umm, no, I'm here by myself."
"Really. So you have two bags?" He asked as he looked from my bag lying on the floor to Imogen's on the back of her chair.
"Yeah, I have two bags with me. It's the newest trend. Haven't you heard?" She tried to play off of her weirdness. He didn't seem amused.
"And you're drinking two cups of tea?"
"Actually, I'm here on a date. He's in the men's room."
"I thought you said you came here alone?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I came here alone, but then I met him and we started chatting and one thing led to another and it turned into a date," she rambled, hoping it would work.
"Ok. Why don't I go check the men's room then. I'd love to meet him." He said smugly and he began to walk towards the bathroom. He rapped his knuckles against the door a few times. "Bianca, I know you're in here. Open up."
"Crap," I muttered under my breath. I can't face him. Not now, not yet. Sorry won't even begin to describe how I feel right now. I can't handle the look of disappointment in his blue eyes. I began to sob and slid to the floor feeling hopeless.
"Bi, I know it's you, stop trying to hide. Open up."
I eventually gave up and opened the door, hastily wiping my cheek.
He pulled me in to a hug. "Don't cry. Everything's going to be okay." He placed his palms on either side of my bottom jawbone and wiped my tears with his thumbs.
"Why are you doing this? I don't deserve it."
"Shh, shh." He continued to wipe my tears.
His body was so close to mine that I could feel his heart beat. I began to calm my racing heart and slow down the flow of tears. I couldn't look him in the eyes. I just stood there, hoping his presence would just fix everything and melt away my sorrow.