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"Really? That's what you call a weird friend? You should've seen the guy that used to live next door..."
"It confused me at the time."
You rolled your eyes, fingers idly toying with the rosary that was humbly gifted to you by your friend. The generational weight each cerulean bead carried was lost on you, inexplicably reducing the heirloom to just a fun necklace you could trifle with during math class.
Across from you sat Calliope, or simply Cal as you had come to call her. Her legs were crossed in an unorthodox manner, though her position couldn't hold a candle to your brash display of un-ladylikeness. Chequered skirt bunched up to your waist, allowing for a sneak peak of your briefs, and an unironed shirt with its first three buttons loose.
Cal heaved a sigh of disappointment. Ever since her grandfather's decisive stroke, she had locked the memory of Clementine Stark deep in her soul. That peculiar little girl next-door had tugged at the first thread of the tangled ball of yarn that was her sexuality. An abrupt kissing session and some playful roughhousing in the bathhouse served as catalysts for multiple rows of dominoes.
She was hoping that by disguising those memories as inconsequential childhood experiences during a round of Truth or Dare, she'd finally air out the catacombs of her heart and maybe finally get you to think for once.
"Young girls do those kinds of things all the time. It doesn't mean anything."
A casual shrug and a deep inhale of your cigarette followed. To someone like you, kissing a nameless girl would serve as a means of testing the waters, a basic tutorial. Boys were your game and you were quite the dedicated player.
It doesn't mean anything.
Cal hated it. How could she ever get you to understand when you couldn't take her very nature seriously? Did such concepts not exist to you outside of Sappho's poems?
"Well, then. Have you ever kissed a girl?"
"You have to ask first."
"Fine. Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Have you ever kissed a girl?"
Another deep inhale of your cigarette. Cal couldn't help but focus on the way your glistening lips closed in an O around the filter. Your idleness could be infuriating at times.
"Yeah. When we went on vacation to Florida in July, I met this anemic girl at the beach."
You flicked your cigarette one last time before putting it out in the ashtray. Cal leaned forward, already enraptured with all the 'what if's.
"She said the boys at her school didn't like her. I felt bad so, I kissed her to compensate for it."
What little tension your initial bare-bones narration held vanished in an instant. Any chances of you having your own Obscure Object slip between Cal's fingers like eels. She tilted her head to the side like a lost puppy, hoping for some more context, sappy though it might have been.
"Uhm... that's it?"
You huffed a half-hearted laugh, once again misreading your friend's demeanour.
"What? It's not like I could do anything more. And besides, you know I was too busy trying to get a proper tan for once."
To prove your point, you gingerly pulled the collar of your unbuttoned shirt to the side, revealing your delicate shoulder, accented with the thin strap of your bra and the feeble outline of your collarbone. The tan you had taken so much pride in had faded to a mellow rosy, with just a strip of unblemished creamy skin to mark the outline of your bikini top.
"There's not much left to see right now but Matty got to see it all." You clarified with a giddy giggle.
Cal's eyebrows knitted together in irritation. The mere mention of your boyfriend had her on edge. She could deal with 'Matthew' just fine but 'baby', 'sweetheart', 'darling' and especially 'Matty' had her mind reeling with envy.
"Oh", she uttered dryly, "did he like it at least?"
Cal came to regret her words the moment you let out a dreamy sigh, eyes rolling upwards as though that cardboard cut-out of a guy was taped to the ceiling. She shifted her gaze up as well, hoping she could finally see what exactly had you falling head over heels for him. She didn't.
"He loved it! In fact, that's what urged him to ask me out on our first date!"
"Your tan is what finally motivated him?", asked Cal with a raised eyebrow.
You clicked your tongue and shook your head.
"Well, sort of. He said I was the second prettiest after Melissa Carmine."
"Only the second prettiest?", echoed Cal.
"Mhm! But Melissa's dating Richard Gordon so-"
"Y/N."
"What?", you lowered your head to meet your friend's disapproving gaze. The very same unnerved look she had given you when you first lifted a cigarette to her chapped lips. It's not right, she had uttered as though God Himself was breathing down her neck.
Cal fixed her posture, hands folded at her chest. She was seriously getting sick of this. "Look, this might sound rude but I don't think Matthew is all too good for you."
Icicles of regret shot through her veins the moment your hazy expression of confusion hardened into one of frustration. That nauseating blend of guilt and genuine fear felt all too familiar to Cal. Your fingers twitching around nothing, instinctively seeking the cigarette you had just put out, instilled the same horror as the booming thud that followed her grandfather's fatal fall in that bathhouse.
"Are you implying something?", the venom lacing your words combined with your narrowed eyes made the air thick with tension.
Cal let her arms fall limp to her sides. She wasn't so sure about this anymore. She was hoping she'd get you to see reason for once, briefly forgetting about your unpredictable temper that earned you little friends at school and even less attention at home.
"I just...", she began with a strained voice, "all this talk about him choosing you only because you had a nice tan and Melissa wasn't available... I think it was very shallow of him."
Shallow was the most generous title Cal could grant to that brainless jock whose favourite pastime was hoarding playboy magazines and throwing rocks at cars, but she didn't feel like digging her grave even deeper at the moment.
Even so, you still didn't look too pleased with your best friend talking about your beloved Matty like that.
Cal looked to descend a bit before the wax melted away from her wings completely. She put on her best pragmatic voice and continued. "Listen, I'm not saying he's a bad guy or anything. You're just... so gorgeous and smart and fun to be around. You deserve someone who appreciates you for that."
That seemed to appease you. You lowered your guard, as evident by the tufts of cotton candy dusting your cheeks and the pleased smile your pinkish lips had curled into. The umpteenth arrow of Eros impaled Cal's heart.
"Oh", you exclaimed, "I mean... I get that. And I'm sure Matty does too."
Cal raised a doubtful eyebrow once more. "Does he?"
You threw your head back, hair whipping against your face, and laughed. "He was rock solid last time we made out. What do you think?"
Oh. Well, that's certainly a genuine declaration of love. Thoughtless gifts in alcohol and blunts, compliments that didn't exceed the basic "you're hot" mantra, endless comparisons to scantily clad models on billboards, an overall mindset that always consulted his dick first... if Cal wasn't sick of him before, she definitely was now.
"Did he compliment you at least?"
"Of course he did!" You sprang up, hypothetical tail wagging with excitement. "He called me hot... and cute... and hot-"
If there's anyone that doesn't believe in Aphrodite, they should just take one look at you.
That was what Cal had told you when you got assigned to the role of the beautiful Helen during your school's production of Euripides' synonymous work. Her best and most effortless compliment yet.
If any boy breaks your heart, I'll kick his teeth in.
That was what you had whispered to Cal in that crowded cinema; before you the female lead crying hysterically upon discovering her husband's infidelity.
Does the poet ever get to close the distance between him and his muse?
That was what Cal had asked her literature teacher during their first lesson on the Odyssey.
The muse serves as a source of inspiration. The further she is from the poet, the longer the story goes on for. For most artists, their best works came from a place of longing.
That was the answer she had received. It left her pensive and directionless. Were you truly unreachable? Was her crush on you another case of tragic irony? Was she doomed to drift away from you and right into the arms of another Joe or John or James, caged in a loveless marriage until the end of her days?
It was infuriating. If Cal had been like her brother- without the need to fake her periods or worry about her unusually flat chest or grimace in disgust whenever she investigated between her legs-, she could've made you hers long ago.
Sometimes I wish you were a guy.
You had said so yourself after Cal had rubbed sunscreen on your back. She only hummed in response. Me too, she had wanted to say.
This surely was a dead end. And if Cal couldn't call you hers, at least you would still see her as your friend and keep her by your side. With a determined glint in her eyes, she sat upright.
"Dare."
You snapped out of your lovesick trance, not quite used to this much more spontaneous side of your best friend. "What?"
Cal leaned forward for emphasis. "Truth or dare. I picked dare. Make me do something embarrassing."
You hesitated for a moment, suspicions creeping in the back of your mind. But you caved in with a mischievous grin. "Jeez, I was getting bored of you picking truth all the time. Let's see..."
You tapped your chin in thought, brainstorming all the possible trials and challenges.
"Hmm... I got it! Take your shirt off."
For a split second, you could've sworn a flicker of panic crossed Cal's eyes, but that train of thought was derailed the moment she pulled her shirt over her head. Throughout all your hangout sessions at the pool and whatnot, this was your first time seeing her topless. Only a short tank top concealed what you mistook as her discreetly small breasts.
The now-shirtless and shameless Cal stretched before tossing her father's striped white-and-navy-blue shirt aside. "Truth or dare?"
Your playful smile widened at this. Cal could tell you were thrilled by this spike in her attitude and were about to prove that you could keep up with it. "Dare."
"Take your skirt off."
You scoffed, eyes rolling in tandem. You wiggled out of your skirt with zero effort; lacework panties on display. "Child's play. Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Give me a massage."
Though Cal didn't hesitate to crawl up to you and place her hands on your dainty shoulders, she found yourself wondering. Was she taking advantage of your little game to touch you in ways she had been fantasizing about? Was she making false use of this intimate setting while you remained oblivious to her true feelings? Was she luring you in under dubious circumstances?
Her hands moved back and forth, pressing against bone and squeezing the flesh. You melted under her touch, eyelids falling closed and satisfied rumblings blooming in your chest. You certainly didn't look like you hated it.
Cal's voice dropped to a salacious whisper. "Truth or dare?"
"Mhm... dare."
A brief pause. Decisions, decisions...
"Hug me."
The suffocating desire of adolescence wrapped in the fuzzy blanket of childhood innocence. A painful longing watered down to a simple schoolyard friendship. Aphrodite turned Venus. Eros turned Cupid.
And yet you still complied.
You turned around to wrap your arms around Cal, pushing her head down to meet the crook of your neck. She clawed at the back of your shirt as though you were the only thing tangible to her.
"I thought you were going to ask something more risqué", you muttered, fingers raking between the roots of her hair.
"Like?" Her voice was muffled against the fabric of your shirt.
"I dunno... like dare me to kiss you with tongue or something."
Cal lifted her head, an uncharacteristic pair of hooded eyes gazing at you as though you were the embodiment of all things sublime.
"Would you like that?"
"You have to ask first."
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Kiss me."
Just like in those sappy movies, you followed the script. Lips slightly parted, eyes closed, hand cupping Cal's cheek. For the very first time, her lips found purchase on something sacred. She allowed herself to be dragged down to the depths of the ocean, heat pooling in her gut the moment your tongue brushed against hers. Saltwater against marble. Marble against flesh. Flesh against flesh.
Suddenly, the world made sense to her. The world that had been narrowed down to your existence alone. The fleeting concept of desire was more clear to her than ever. She felt crushed under its weight, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Cal lied down, submitting to your experienced hands. She trusted you. She had faith in your touch. To reward her, you settled your hands on her hips and coaxed her thighs apart with your knee. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath your shared weight, the setting sun casting the two of you in a safe veil of discoloured hues of orange.
To take the initiative, Cal tried to map out your body with her hands alone. A soft belly, the gentle weight of your breasts, the smooth curve of your rear... you were a statue brought to life. The Galatea to her Pygmalion. The Eurydice to her Orpheus. The Eros to her Psyche.
She tried to follow your lead. She pushed her tongue fervently against yours, her hands fondling and squeezing wherever they could. Like a proud mentor, you took a step back, allowing Cal to find her balance. After all, you couldn't help but relish in it.
"Wow, huh... you kiss better than Matthew."
You huffed out as you pulled away with a shared gasp. It had been so long since someone had stolen away your breath like that.
Cal's chest rose and fell in tandem with yours. When she opened her eyes, faced with your divine form, a spark of competition flashed in them.
"Bet I could be a better boyfriend than him too." She whispered.
You were nothing if not an expert in hybris. "Prove it."
And Cal was nothing if not your own personal nemesis. She settled one hand on your rear and one amidst the roots of your hair. She was about to lower you against her once more, eager for the sweet nectar cascading from your mouth when suddenly-
Riiiiing!
The both of you went still. The sound barely registered at first. A cruel return to reality, of course. Though judging by your spaced out expression, you didn't seem too thrilled to answer the phone either.
After an unusually long reaction time for you, you slowly peeled yourself away from Cal. She winced at the absence of your warmth, left feeling hollow on the inside and rusty on the outside. With a few long strides, you reached for the phone, raising the receiver to your ear.
"Hello? …Hey, Matthew... No, no... Yeah, sure..."
Cal's heart dropped at the sound of that name. She knew what this meant for her. Playtime's over. Back in the box with you.
But then, you glanced over your shoulder, assessing her dishevelled state, the raw need written all over her pitiful expression. She could see the gears in your head turning. You glanced away- at the void, it seemed- with the decision sat in your mind.
"Actually, I'm kinda busy right now. Can we do next Saturday? …Sure, whatever... Okay, bye."
You slammed the receiver down with more force than necessary, plunging the room in a stiff silence of sorts. You turned to face Cal once more, your cherry-tinted lips mirroring her own telling grin. No more distractions.