JustLilia #1

I cared what she thought, so when she dared me, I knew I was in trouble.

“If you’re at all serious about what you say all the time, you will do it. I mean, I guess you could not, but then you’d just be a hypocrite.” The word hypocrite was one of her most powerful weapons, and she executed it perfectly.

“I would not be a hypocrite. I am not a hypocrite. I don’t have to do everything I endorse intellectually. I don’t write erotica just because I think it can be good for women to read.” Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say, and I know she’s going to call…

“Well, maybe you should. If it’s so good for women, then you should be writing it. Put your pen where your mouth is, so to speak.”

…Me on it; I know she’s going to call me on it. Damn, she’s so quick she even interrupts my thoughts.

“So do it. Do it now.” She was becoming even more persistent about it because she thought she was winning the argument.

“Do what: write some erotica?” I was very intentionally avoiding the subject at hand.

“No, you know what I’m talking about. You are all talk and no action: Typical intellectual.” She smirked.

God I wanted to wipe that smirk off of her face. But honestly, when would this stop? She was always pushing me in new and different directions. That’s what I liked about her; she held me accountable for all of the shit I should be doing that I’m not. That’s also what I hated about her. She was a constant reminder of everything I should be… that I’m not.

“So…hello? Are you paying attention to me right now?” She gave me an obviously irritated glare.

“Yes, yes I am paying attention. I was just thinking.” I really had no idea if she’d just said something or not. Oh well, if she did and I missed it, I was not going to admit it then.

“What are you thinking about?” That was a loaded question.

“Umm, I’m just thinking about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” She would probe until I gave her an answer that satisfied her, so I relented.

“You, me, stuff. Can I have a private thought once in a while? You’re already like my alter ego.” I really wanted to ask her if I could just have my life, the one before we were friends, back. No, I didn’t. I loved her. It was just that she was just a better, cooler version of me. And that really, really sucked.

“I’m flattered.” She was really bad at hiding her sarcasm. Then again, she wasn’t trying. She would’ve been really good at it, had she even put forth an iota of effort. She was really good at everything at which she put forth even the tiniest bit of effort.

“Of course you are. You’re flattered that you are like me, only better, and that I’m constantly reminded of it.” Of course, I wasn’t trying to cover my emotions either at this point. I didn’t care.

“I’m not better than you. If anything, I look up to you. You are an awesome, gorgeous woman. You should know that.” She gave me that sad empathetic look that she had a habit of giving at all of the right moments.

“No, I look up to you. Everything I want to do, you’ve done. And I know that you’re older, but I just still always feel so behind. I’m still living in your shadow as far as everyone we know is concerned.” Gosh, it felt so good to get that out, and also so bad that it was true. I dropped my head so as to avoid her stare.

“You know what will make you feel better?” She said it as she lifted my chin in a cute, ‘I care about you’ way.

“What?” I questioned her in a little whimper, a little sad and honestly not knowing what her answer would be.

“If you just do it.”

“Ok.” I whispered.

I brought my hand to the back of her head, grasping her soft short hair, and brought her nearer to me. Her hand slipped from my chin down my shoulder to the small of my back as we embraced. I moved my nose closer to hers as if to give her an Eskimo kiss and then brushed my lips across hers. I could taste the cherry chapstick we shared, but I didn’t know whose I was tasting. I opened my mouth, and my tongue met hers. For those few seconds, as we felt each others’ mouths touching and chests pressed together, I didn’t care what anyone thought. Eventually, we moved apart. I brushed her hair out of her face and looked into her doll-like big brown eyes.

I opened my mouth again, this time to say, “I do feel better.”