Underwater
A slight glare reflected off of her glasses frames, and I winced. Glancing down at her ratty converse, I knew that this wasn’t going to be a fun project.
“Look, Elle,” Her voice dripped with a sardonic viscosity, slowly sliding into my ear canals. “I know neither of us like this, but if you don’t do your part, or work at all, we are going to have some serious problems.” She rolled her eyes and shoved a lock of garnet hair away from her eyes.
“Don’t be bitchy about it, Nina.” I mocked, ersatz voice full of apathy.
“Don’t use that word.” She snapped in a patronizingly pretentious tone.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s get started here.” I placed myself gently into my mother’s armchair, as Nina just flopped down, irritating the pillow arrangement.
I began to read the instructions for the project, the do’s and don’ts, the how’s and why’s, the where’s and when’s. Nina tapped her feet along to an invisible beat, knocking a pink plastic mechanical pencil against her teeth methodically.
“Great.” She announced condescendingly when I’d completed my reading of the directions. “Fantastic. Let me do the art, and you just gather the information.”
“Fine.” I sighed delicately, and melted a little into the cushions. I’d thought that without the shadows of Britney and Madison, it would be easier to be seen, but Nina seemed to have the presence of a giant, looming overhead and manipulating every move. I knew I’d let her push me around, but I wished I knew how to fight back.
I reluctantly picked up an encyclopaedia and idly flipped through the pages.
Nina produced a twenty-four pack of coloured pencils out of thin air and coloured as I gave suggestions from the thickly worded text of the titanic tome.
After an hour of tedious page scanning, I began to doodle in the margins of my reference paper, abstract images with no correlation.
“Whoa.” Nina’s breath was audible from across the room, inciting me to glance up. When I couldn’t place her location, my eyes darted about in an attempt to pinpoint her position.
I found her beside me, eyes bug-out wide taking in my pictures.
“What?” I snapped impatiently, finding myself uncomfortably agitated about the nature of her opinion.
“No, nothing like that, Elle, I just, I, wow.” Her lack of words only made her more intimidating.
“I…” Trailing off, I found her gaze meeting mine, and I was close enough to see her chest rise and fall with the rhythm of her respiration.
Suddenly I found myself at a loss for words as well, and panic over took me. Heart swelling, breathing rapid, I didn’t understand what was going on until she was already kissing me.
I could taste vanilla milkshakes, with a hint of mint toothpaste. I could taste the raw fear in her heart, and the thrill of anticipation. I could taste the fresh buoyant feeling of rightness, and of discovery.
Under water under water under water, I felt alive drowning, until she pulled her head away in embarrassment.
“I, I’m sorry Elle, I didn’t mean to—“
I cut her off with a kiss. I swear I could taste the end of unfinished sentences and new beginnings.