I walk down the street with my eyes closed, a part of me not caring if I ended up in the middle. I concentrate on the illusion of darkness, twisting rings of stars, onward and hypnotizing, flickers of pink. The backs of my eyelids are galaxies. I tug at the sash of my blue dress. I twist my lips; the color is fucking coincidental and something must have been going through my mind this morning when I put the dress on. I'm trying so hard to concentrate on something other than what happened earlier, because if I play that scene over in my head, the goodness will eat me alive. It's so hard to focus when there's a blue mailbox ahead of me, a blue sedan parked across the street, azure fabric covering my body, below my eyes. Blue, blue, blue everywhere. Ariel's hair, long and striking, Ariel's eyes, bright but unenlightened. Ariel's bedroom, flooded almost with water, anyone could believe. It's all like a whirlpool, like it's sucked me in and I'm drowning. And no matter how hard I try, I'm stuck. Trapped.

The last words I said were a form of reassurance to her. "It's okay." And as the day passed, I totally forgot that I'm supposed to go to Flora's for dinner. But now I'm thinking over the kiss. The kiss. Shit, I was supposed to be the one who kissed her first. It's more unrealistic then a dream now. It's like a mirage, or a momentary daydream. A hallucination. And the most pathetic thing is the dilemma as to whether or not I should lick my lips again, because I don't know if I liked it. I don't know if I want her ghost obliterated now, or her taste to stay. I care if I let her down. I notice that I'm unraveling the thread of my dress's skirt, yanking on it out of distress. Let me return to my galaxy now. Let me cower in broad daylight, blonde curls blocking my face, weaker than sunlight. I just don't understand it. She…she…kissed me. Aurora. Not Briar Rose. Aurora. Auri.

I close my eyes again, making sure my feet remain in a straight rhythm onward for fear of cars. I'm analyzing my eyelids' constellations so strenuously that my eyes start to ache. How come my eyes couldn't be purple or brown right now? Why do they have to be blue? They're not helping the situation. Or maybe they are. Maybe they're telling me to trust Ariel and go for it. I vowed that I would, I think. Blue. A commanding color and it's the fucking color of my eyes. Yes. I love Ariel. And I'm eventually gonna tell her that. I'm just a little thrown off balance. The frequent times that her voice is loud enough, it's inevitable; it's when it's a whisper or even a murmur that I have a mental breakdown. Somewhere I feel like I should be sick of giving a fuck, of analyzing her every move and step, sick of being fascinated. She's teaching me more than I had anticipated. All I wanted was to figure out how to be cheerful and solid with my feelings, but now all I want to do is to dig into her deeper, dissecting everything she is. She sure is a teacher. More like a professor. She carries a mallet and she's pounding the knowledge into my head. It's unthinkable and sometimes feels as if she's not quite reaching my brain with it, it's just pain, the information being slammed against my skull. I'm hooked, and advancing is my only concern.

Stars. Just keep admiring the pretty space visions. Push aside the wishes and thoughts. I can't be far from Flora's; I've been walking for a while now, and I open my eyes. Shit. I've passed her street. Alright. Don't think about it.

I blink and walk down Flora's driveway still fidgeting with my dress. I feel so out of place right now. I usually ring her doorbell but this time I knock on her mahogany door, tips of my knuckles drumsticks. Knuckles. It's a powerful word. I never knock. And now…I know I'm uptight. It's given. Flora's house is like my second home. I feel beyond comfortable here. But…I need to act like nothing happened. I didn't come from Ariel's. I came from my house. Actually let's just go with the grocery store.

Flora opens up the door with a gentle smile, lips pressing together and letting me enter. "Hi." She looks at me suspiciously, like she doesn't know why I knocked. I kick off my sandals and sigh, wanting nothing more than to collapse in the leather chair up in her room. I scoot past her nervously. It's written all over my face, isn't it. I should feel so welcomed here; I should feel like family. But right now, I feel strange. Like an intruder. Maybe it's just because I just came from someone's house for the first time, or I'm being too sensitive about…about hiding it.

It. I shake my head, tearing my gaze off the loose string of my dress. Alright. I need to concentrate on something that isn't a shade of blue.

Flora leads me upstairs, her strides long, making me think of Ariel's, which are completely fucking different. "So what were you doing after school?"

It's that question that sets me off. It's like she's mocking me. Of course she would ask that. "Um, you know. Homework. I drew a bit."

I twist my lips and fall into Flora's chair, thankful that it's grey. Her room isn't all that complex, but it sort of has a dead end, if that makes sense. Half of it is all about her, books and all of her sweatshirts arranged, and then the other side just…ends. It's dull. For some reason, there's a jar of seashells over there.

Flora waits as if she's expecting me to go on, to tell her about my day at school, because she always asks these boring, classic questions. But I'm silent, scared that if I speak again, I'd stutter uncontrollably.

"How was your day?" she asks, realizing I had nothing else to say.

How was my day? How the hell was my day? It was interesting alright. That's all I can say. "It was okay."

"That's it? That's all you're giving me?"

I force my eyes off the seashells and look at her even though I don't want to. My shoulders feel cramped, my lips twisted tightly, and my eyes feel like they're squinting too hard from trying to conceal everything that happened an hour ago. Flora's face falls, and once again, I know I've disappointed her. She sits on the floor in front of my feet, her head tilting to the side, as if trying to decipher the labyrinth I've given her.

She gets up, and I know she's getting water for us. She does it every time I come over. When she comes back, I snatch the glass and down the liquid frantically, as if I need to be calmed. I need to binge this time. But on water? Water. Fuck. It's like I can taste her, like she's found her way on my lips again, washing the remaining berry flavor down my throat as I lick them.

Flora looks confused as she sits down. "So, my mom will be home in about a half hour, and then she'll start on dinner. You want to go for a walk?"

I take a tiny sip of the water, and my only option is to agree. "Sure."