What the hell is that mother fucking noise?
I reach over and blindly hit my alarm clock. No, that’s not it; the noise is still reverberating around my bedroom walls. I groggily sit up in bed and glance at my bedside table. Urgh, cell phone. If that thing doesn’t shut the hell up, I’m going to throw it out of the window and get a dog to pee on it.
I hit a few keys. One of them is bound to be the pick-up button. “Hello?”
“Hey Cat, it’s Trace.”
Ah, the irritating munchkin. “What do you want?”
He chuckles. “Apart from a better attitude from you?”
“Sorry, no can do. Anything else?”
He laughs. “No, I was just calling to chat.”
“How was your visit?” Justin and Trace had to go to this birthday bash of Justin’s hosted by his record company in New York. I was invited, but I had that article to do and plus, the idea of being surrounded by blonde, skinny models did not appeal, strangely enough.
“Good. How did the article go?”
I snort. “About as well as funeral.”
He laughs again. “Do you think you’ll get the job?”
Wow, he really does listen to what I say to him. I heard there was an opening for a permanent position with the newspaper which I had decided to pursue. That would mean I could quit working at the store and stop serving the legions of Condom Boys, (actually yesterday, I got a Condom Girl, which was quite exciting) and would probably get more interesting subjects to write about. But it’s a relatively tough job to obtain, so optimistic me isn’t really counting on getting it.
“I don’t know, hopefully.” I yawn, which reminds me, why the hell is Trace calling me at eight in the morning? “Trace, why are you calling me so early?”
“Because I thought I should start my day with the sound of your beautiful voice.”
“Trace, cut the crap. What do you want?”
He chuckles. “I was calling to tell you we’re just getting the plane back now and you should keep this afternoon free, so we can do something.”
Oh no, I’d better cancel the thousands of things I’ve planned for today. Please. “You should know by now there was no need to forewarn me, Trace.”
“I was thinking we could try another sport —”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I interrupt. No, seriously, I don’t like the sound of that. Does he not remember the basketball incident?
He giggles. “I mean a low activity sport, like pool or something.”
“Oh,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I suck at my pool. Hold back your shock,” I say sarcastically.
He snorts. “Well, either way, you’re coming on my team. You know, recreate the unbeatable team of you and me.”
“Yes, Cat the Crazy and Trace the Tempting.”
His rumbling laugh travels down the phone to me, making my day a little better already. “Trace the Tempting, I like that, it’s cute. Hey, Trace the Tempting and Cat the Cutie!”
I laugh. “Whatever you say, Tempt.”
“I’d better go, we need to get on the plane. But I’ll see you later, Cutie.”
I giggle and…oh no…I blush. “See ya.”
Trace is too adorable.
---------------------
Okay, I tried to ignore it and let it be a one off thing, but no, they just had to push it a little further, didn't they?
Cat the Cutie and Trace the Tempting? Am I the only one thinking...what the fuck?
Something has to be going on. I tried to brush it off after the basketball game, I ignored the gentle flirtatiousness the continued over the next few days, I didn’t even mention that her and Trace have spent longer talking then me and her have, but nicknames? That’s where I draw the line.
See, I figured it all out. It wasn’t jealousy that had me awake for half the night thinking about the way they were together, and it wasn’t envy I felt when I saw them flirting with each other, it was just a protectiveness for both her and Trace. They’re good friends of mine, and I just don’t want them to get hurt, right? That’s a perfectly plausible reason for those weird feelings I had on the court…and the following days…and right now, as I watch Trace wrap up the call.
I numbly let someone lead me towards the plane and ignore the flashing light bulbs and screaming girls I’ve tried so hard to get away from these past few weeks. I can just ask Trace what’s going on when we get to the plane. I pushed it to the side because we were in New York and it was my birthday and it wasn’t bothering me. But now, after hearing that fucking phone conversation that could have gone on between man and wife, it’s the only thing I can think about.
Again, just doing my duty as a friend, that’s all.
“Is there anything I can get you, sir?”
I open my eyes and smile at the flight attendant. “No, thank you.”
She turns to Trace and smiles, her long eyelashes blinking rapidly. I would probably find her attractive if I wasn’t so sure she was going to malfunction any second. “How about yourself, sir?”
He glances up from his magazine. “No thanks.”
She nods at us and remains there for a while before slowly walking away. Trace elbows me in the side.
“Robot,” he mutters before putting on his headphones.
“Hey Trace,” I being, tapping him in the side.
He takes out one earpiece. “Yeah?”
“What’s going on with you and Cat?”
Shit, that sounded really harsh. Trace must notice this, as he turns to give me a surprised look. “What do you mean?”
“You guys are always…flirting and shit.” That’s right Justin, put it eloquently. “And what’s with the phone conversation you guy just had?”
I'm not sounding any nicer. He smirks. “Eavesdrop much?”
Now is not a time to be smart, Trace. I glare at him and he shrugs.
“What?”
“Well, do you like her?” I ask, prodding him on the arm.
“Stop it,” he says, slapping my hand away. “And of course I like Cat.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Like that.”
“What are we, in Junior High? Oh my god, do you like Kelly Patterson?” he whispers behind his hand excitedly, much like the girls we would often taunt when we were younger. "Hey Justin, maybe we could get together after school and paint each other's nails!"
“I was just asking,” I mutter grumpily before turning away and putting my headset on to watch the movie. If Trace isn’t going to give me answers, then fine, that’s just fine.
He sighs. “Are you asking me whether I like her in a girlfriend way?”
I nod and take of the headphones. “Yeah. I mean, do you find her attractive?”
Trace pauses, before shrugging. “I guess. Let’s face it, she’s the kind of girl I would have ended up with if I wasn’t your best friend.” Put it bluntly why don’t you Trace. “I suppose so,” he says finally. “Why? Do you think she likes me?”
“Absolutely not,” I snap. Whoops, that wasn’t meant to come out so hastily.
He recoils slightly. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean…um, nothing.”
“Is there anything going on between you and Cat?”
I snort and replace my headphones. “Of course not.”
Trace looks at me for a second, shooting me an almost unbelieving look, before turning away. I wonder what’s wrong with him?
------------------------------
I trudge into the kitchen in my rabbit slippers and pajamas, my hair in a messy ponytail. I do love how I am always the image of perfection.
Diane’s sitting at the table, sipping coffee and reading my article. “Hey Di,” I mumble, pouring myself some orange juice.
“Hi,” she says, looking up at me and smiling. How come some people get to look so good first thing in the morning, whereas others look like they’ve been rolling in hay for ten hours? “You’re up kinda early, any reason?”
“Yeah, Trace. He called me to tell me they would be back soon.”
She raises an eyebrow and flicks the page over. “You two seem to be getting awfully close, as of late.”
I shrug. “It’s impossible not to get on with him. He called me Cat the Cutie,” I say, grinning.
She gives me a blank look. “So?”
“Diane! Do you have any idea how shocking it is for someone like me to actually be called a cutie and not a fatty?”
Her mouth drops open. “No one calls you fatty because you’re not fat. You’re just average.”
Witness the dramatic roll of the eyes. “That’s what polite people say to people who are bordering on obesity because they are too kind to say otherwise.”
She slams her hand on the table. “Stop it!”
I jump. That’s a pretty loud noise from someone so small. “What?”
“Stop bitching about yourself for goodness sake.”
I shrug. It’s just a habit, I guess. “Sorry.”
She sends me a stern look before closing the paper. “Anyway, back to my original point, you and Trace have gotten quite close quite quickly, wouldn’t you say?”
I sit down and take an apple, shrugging. “I guess.”
She sends me a look telling me she wants more information. Ah, I get it. She thinks I’ve got a silly crush on Trace as well as Justin.
“Oh come on, Diane. I’m not that easy,” I chuckle.
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Well, you are quite the whore.”
I laugh. I wish. “Nah, Trace is actually a nice way of distracting me from Justin. When it was just me and Justin, all I could do was think about how great he was. But when Trace is there, it’s not so bad,” I shrug.
“So you don’t like Justin anymore?”
I snort and throw my apple in the bin, missing terrible of course. “I wish. I said I was distracted, not blind.”
Diane laughs before checking her watch. “Crap, I gotta go meet Joseph. I’ll catch you later, hun.”
“Sure,” I reply, heading towards the cereal. “Bye!”
She walks out and I slouch down on the couch. I can’t believe she thinks I’m even slightly over Justin. Trace is great and all, he’s basically a mini Justin (stress on the word mini), but I don’t think I could ever feel as strongly for him as I do for Justin. In fact, the past few days have been tougher than I'm willing to admit because I miss hanging around with him. I briefly called him on his birthday to send my birthday wishes and a few ego-bashing words. It was good to hear his voice, all happy and excited, even if I did have to hear it over the phone. I miss his good looks, his gift for making people laugh, his occasional lapses into singing, his ability to make me blush…
“Oh god, shut up, Cat,” I say out loud in the empty kitchen.
Great, so now I’m talking to myself. It’s good to know I’ve gone completely insane then. I wish I could hate him, I really do. It sure as hell would save me a lot of heartache. I have to snap out of this before I have too much time to dwell on it because I know if I do, I'll just end up a pool of tears. I check my watch, realizing I have a minimum of seven hours before they call me round to theirs.
Better start getting ready.
--------------------------------
I swing open the door the minute I hear a knock on it. It’s Cat, standing outside, shivering her ass off because she’s not got on a jacket. So typical of a girl.
“Hi!” I greet eagerly. I’ve missed that girl, more than I thought I would actually.
Okay, this is it. I am going to hug her, just to see whether she really is like the marshmellow…no, Justin, stop it.
She seems to be surprised as my arms snake their way around her hips. Slowly, and with a hint of caution, she wraps herself around my neck. I pull her close to me, the subtle scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils as my chins rests on her head. Man, she is nice to hug. She’s got no jaunty angles or sharp corners, only rounded edges. She’s the kind of person you go to if you’re crying, because there are no bones sticking painfully out on her spine or ribs, she’s just so warm and…soft. Like a big ball of dough.
Oh shit, not again, Timberlake.
“Hey,” she says softly, chuckling slightly. She sounds different - there’s no sarcastic tone in her voice.
“Hi,” I repeat. She’s looking at me in a weird way, it’s as though she wants to cry or something. “Is something wrong?” I ask, my voice full of concern.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Her voice, it’s still different. It’s quiet and soft, not loud and insulting, as it usually is. She seems shy, and glances down at the ground, a lock of wavy hair escaping from behind her ear and framing her face.
I gently push it back and smile at her. Her eyes return to mine, and she smiles bashfully back at me. There’s a strange moment where we both stare at each other for no reason at all. I don’t think I’ve ever stared at her properly, there’s a lot of things I’ve never noticed about her.
“You have freckles,” I randomly say. She does, just a few ones splattering across her nose and her cheeks. They’re not very obvious and I guess she covered them up with foundation crap or something before.
She blushes and covers her nose. “I know, they’re horrible.”
I pull her hand away. “No, they’re nice.”
A silence falls over the two of us. It takes me a second to realize I’m still holding her hand and staring at her, but I just can’t seem to stop doing either. Her breath catches in her throat as I look at her slightly chubby face. I suddenly want to kiss her, even if it's just to see what it's like. Her lips look kinda plump and soft. I don't know why, I just really want to touch them. I take a step towards her, my head inclining toward hers.
Suddenly, Trace bounds down the stairs and lands at the bottom with a loud thump. “Cutie!” he shouts, holding his arms wide open.
“Tempt!” she imitates, laughing and rushing towards him, dropping my hand.
And just like that, the Cat I saw two seconds ago is gone and replaced by the usual, jokey girl that Trace and I know so well.
That was a weird moment.
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