Chapter 229: (Spin Off) Erind/Deen – 5.19.3

Breakfast… something sweet… sweet smell… cotton candy… “Cotton candy?” I groaned, awakened by the out-of-place sweet smell, my stomach slightly rumbling. Everything suddenly became bright, the light piercing through my eyelids. I opened my eyes a slit and saw whiteness. Fluffy whiteness. Opening my eyes further, I realized it was Deen wrapped in a towel, tiptoeing away. “Deen!”

She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, you’re awake? I muted the TV because I saw you sleeping.”

“What were you doing to me?”

“To you? Uh, nothing? Other than making sure my best friend wasn’t disturbed. I guess the noise suddenly disappearing did wake you up. Sorry!”

Sitting up straight, I rubbed the sleepiness off my eyes. “You were doing something to me. I can smell you—erm, the shampoo, soap, or whatever. And there was a shadow over me.” After rubbing my eyes, I nonchalantly moved my hand to my ears before putting them down. Wet. This bitch did it again.

“I was standing next to you,” Deen said with a raised brow. She pointed at the open window. “A light source.” She gestured at herself, giggling. “A beautiful object in the way.” Then she pointed at me. “My beautiful shadow on you.”

“Thanks for the science lecture,” I said. I wasn’t going to pounce on the bait. “My left ear is wet. How do you explain that, Ms. Scientist in a towel?”

“My hair is wet. Usually, I bunch this up with a towel, but you gave me only one. Water must’ve dripped onto your ear while I stood next to you. Gravity?”

“Oh, right. Towel.” I stood up and rushed to my bedroom. “I’ll find you another towel. Sorry, I’m such a bad host.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Deen sat on the chair next to my study table, watching me raid my closets again. “And what did you think I was doing to you while you were sleeping?”

“Pranking me or something? Putting water in my ear?” I pulled out a bunch of towels, some for my use. I hoped Deen wouldn’t comment on their designs. Some of them were a bit on the childish side. Mom bought all of them.

“Water? If I wanted to prank wake you, I’d rather blow on your ear… or maybe bite your ear.”

The truth comes out. “Bite my ear?” I asked, stopping myself from smirking. “Why would you bite my ear?” I handed Deen a second towel, a pink one that Mom chose because it was supposed to be girly.

Deen crossed her legs as she sat up straighter in the chair. The towel she wore hiked up her legs, almost to her hips, not covering her lower body at all. “It’s a hypothetical prank,” she said, drying her hair, then wrapping it with the pink towel. “Maybe I’ll try it next time.”

“No biting!” I warned Deen. “Or I’ll kick you out of my house.”

“I thought you would say that you’ll bite me back.”

“That won’t work because your Guardian Angel will warn you beforehand.”

“I can just choose not to follow Gabe,” she said, winking at me. “Want to try—?”

“No.” I nodded at her blindingly bottomless bottom. “I’ll try to find a bigger towel for you later. Mine are small because, uh, I’m short.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Deen pouted at me, pretending to be offended.

“When did the opposite of short become fat? My towels are obviously too narrow for your tall, modelesque body.” I threw another towel at her crotch, fighting back the temptation to have a glance, wondering if it was also blonde down there. It should be. “Have some modesty,” I scolded her. I couldn’t have her treating my house like hers. This was my sanctuary.

“Whatever you say, Mom,” Deen said. She stood up and pulled the ends of the towel down to cover herself. “Not that my mother really cared about me…” she trailed off.

Struggling not to roll my eyes, I steered the conversation to the safe topic of towels. “And look,” I said, poking her spilling breasts, trying to unravel the towel covering her body. “You really need a wider and longer one. I’ll borrow from Mom. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“I prefer yours. The designs are cute.”

I ignored her comment. “Now, it’s my turn to shower. Put on your clothes and, uh, watch TV or something. Or think what we’ll eat later.” I poked her chest again. “My ears are not on the menu.”

“I wasn’t biting—!” Deen started to protest.

“Hypothetical,” I interjected, narrowing my eyes at her before marching to the bathroom.

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“I can never be on the run,” I whispered as warm water hugged me.

I had already lathered and rinsed myself, but I didn’t want to leave the shower. Returning from the Sanders fire after I became an Adumbrae, I packed my bags, ready to flee and leave everything behind. I was naïve. Showers were something I couldn’t live without.

In action-thriller movies, the fugitive main character always finds hotels to stay in. Rarely did I see them sleeping in the streets. Sometimes in the car; I didn’t have a car. The protagonists were usually rogue agents or something like that, so they probably had money to spend while on the run. Not sure how long I’d last if I ran away. I needed the comforts of life.

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Not luxury. Just a warm shower would be nice.

I ran my fingers through my hair, heavy with water, its waviness tamed straight. I closed my eyes and faced up at the shower head, letting the water massage my cheeks. Maybe a spa would be nice for relaxation. I’d never been to one—I hated people touching me. Yeah, massage was off the table.

I’d just be content with a shower.

Peace and quiet. A well-deserved escape from the death and destruction, some of which I caused. If only Deen weren’t here.

“Erind!” A muffled shout. Annoying Deen was outside the bathroom door. I turned off the roaring shower to hear better. She called, “Erind, can I come in?”

Come in? Like here in the bathroom? “No, I’m having a shower!” I yelled back. She was just here about fifteen minutes ago. Maybe the food in the diner didn’t agree with her? Funny if she could get an upset stomach despite having a superhuman body.

“I have something to ask you,” was what I thought she said. “Can I come in?”

“I’ll be out in five minutes!” I shouted even louder. She wanted to talk to me while I was showering? I told her to make herself at home, but not like this. I should’ve dissuaded her from thinking we were like sisters. There should be boundaries to how close we—a distinct click made me freeze.

I didn’t lock—?

The sound of the door swinging open answered my unfinished thought. Footsteps followed. Through the frosted glass partitioning the bathroom, I could see the blurred form of an annoying bitch.

“Hey, Erind,” Deen said, giggles making her voice waver. “I saw this—”

“Get out!”

“Wha—?”

“I’m still taking a bath. We can talk later.” Thank you, past Erind, for insisting to Mom that the glass should be frosted.

Frosted glass wasn’t necessary because only the two of us lived here. Actually, a glass wall, frosted or otherwise, wasn’t needed—a simple shower curtain would’ve sufficed. But I wanted to delineate the shower area from the rest of the bathroom, just like how I want my bed to be mine. Not a Rule. More like Erind’s building code.

“Are you shy?” Deen positioned herself by the sink, a few feet away from me.

“I’m not shy.” But I also don’t want people hanging around while I shower.

“And it’s not like I can see you anyway.”

“Yeah, you can only see a pale white stick.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. If you work out again, you’ll get your cheerleader curves back. I saw your photos, and you looked like a different—”

“You’ve been going through my photos?” I held out my right hand, about to summon the Blanchette mask and end my friendship with Deen. “In my cabinet?”

“No! I wasn’t snooping around. I was sitting in the living room and noticed a photo album, along with the magazines, at the bottom of the coffee table. Like, it’s not off limits if it’s there, right?”

“I guess not.” I turned on the shower again to distract myself from thoughts of adding a severed blonde head to Mom’s weird decorations. To be fair, it was my fault that I didn’t scrub the whole unit clean of anything embarrassing. And what was so embarrassing about my past anyway? “So…” I said, my mouth voice layered with splashing water, “are you going to ask me about my dark and mysterious past?”

Deen chuckled. “Yeah! I didn’t know that you—No, I never would’ve guessed, like ever, that you were a cheerleader in high school. Will you teach me to split?”

“Split?” More like I want to split your head open.“It’s been ages since I’ve done that.”

“Oh, come on. Teach me later. We don’t have much to do anyway.”

“Why do you need me to teach you anything about cheerleaders? Weren’t you one too?”

“Erind. Don’t be politically incorrect. You’re stereotyping beautiful people.”

We both laughed. Water got into my mouth.