Chapter 234: (Spin Off) Erind/Deen – 5.19.5

“Forgot a towel for my hair,” I muttered, looking at the mirror. A pissed-off Erind stared back. Deen asked to borrow a second towel earlier, and I should’ve remembered to take another for my use. So much for being a strong and independent woman—I couldn’t even make sure my condo had everything prepared for a stayover.

I combed away the strands sticking to my face. I gathered my hair and coiled it, balancing the waterlogged stack on top of my head and holding it in place with my left hand. With my right, I secured the top of the towel wrapped around my body. Crazy Deen might try to yank it off as a prank. Not that I had a problem being naked, just that I didn’t want her to have one up on me.

“What if I just walk out naked?” I asked my reflection. That would be the ultimate power move. Just absolute confidence—wait, that wasn’t in line with Erind, the timid best friend of Deen. The towel stays on.

I raised a brow when a blonde maniac didn’t attack me after stepping out of the bathroom. No ambush? A topless Deen was by my study table, drying herself by the small tabletop fan. She draped her shirt on the backrest of the chair.

“You didn’t change?” I asked, pulling away my eyes from the spilling sides of her marshmallow airbags to look at her face. I’d never hear the end of it if she caught me checking out her weapons of war. Some of us never got to choose from the genetic armory. The fuck are these metaphors?

“I’ll just dry my clothes,” she replied. “No biggie.”

My peripheral vision caught a jiggle as she turned around. My eyes remained locked on her face. My left cheek twitched involuntarily. “Amber Deen Leska acting like a mere mortal?” I commented with a pointed tone. “I suppose you couldn’t fit your endless wardrobe in your bags. I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat outfits while staying here.”

“Oh, come on, Erind,” she said. “You know I repeat clothes. There was that time I wore the same top at home for three straight days. As for going out, I have like a month’s worth of clothes, so that’s why you probably forgot I repeated my outfit.”

I stole one more look at her chest before opening my closet. I should’ve slapped those—no, chill with the violence, Erind. How would Mom react if she knew I was hitting my ‘friends’ again? Mom thought that was a ‘misplaced phase' of my childhood development. In a way, it was true—I was yet to realize back then that people didn’t appreciate if I tested how they’d react to pain. Unlike the insects in our backyard, other kids reported me to their parents and got me in trouble.

Spanking Deen’s ass should’ve been the revenge for stealing my towel. But I might’ve hit her too hard. I was trying to get past her Guardian Angel’s protection and actually hurt Deen to see her reaction.

That was the opportunity I was sure she wouldn’t bother evading. She was already fine, so no harm done. And she did deserve that slap for all her bullshit.

I kept my ears peeled while my back was turned to Deen in case she aimed to slap my flat ass even flatter. I wore my clothes, careful not to let the towel fall while dressing.

“Why are you so catty with me?” Deen continued. “Is it because I barged into the bathroom?”

“Barged? Correct word,” I curtly replied. I was pissed off at her a couple of minutes ago, but not anymore. Holding emotions at such an intense level wasn’t my thing—my batteries drained quickly. However, I wanted to make her feel bad about it.

Why? Because it’s fun.

I knew this was a bad thing in the eyes of society. I had come across the term for this. Gas burner or burning light or something? Didn’t sound environmentally friendly at all, which meant bad. In any case, the face I presented to Deen should be justified in getting angry at her.

Deen’s tone did mellow a lot. “Sorry about that, Erind. I really am.” Having finished dressing, I faced her. She put on her partially dried shirt. A wet patch caused the fabric to cling around her left breast, highlighting its shape. “I’m not going to do it again, I promise. I just thought that it’s okay since, you know, we’re doing a sleepover and all that.”

“You’re well aware I’m super introverted,” I placed my hands on my hips, not ready to accept her apology just yet. As my self-proclaimed best friend, Deen should be happy if I was happy. And I was entertaining myself by gas-burning her—didn’t sound right. I might be using the wrong word.

“Okay, I’ll take it slow then,” Deen said.

“Take what slow?”

She shook her head. “Anyway, that spank hurt really bad. Like ouchies, my god, the worst pain I’d ever felt.”

“You’re faking it,” I said with a disbelieving frown. Deen’s complaints were music to my ears.

I did put some super strength into that hit—'some’ meaning enough to kill an average person if I slapped their head level of super strength. I was half-concerned I’d overshoot and dislocate her leg or something, but I was glad I went ahead with it. Deen was plenty durable.

And she had that coming for a long time.

“May I remind you,” I continued, “that you’ve been shot? How is slapping your ass worse than that?” Was I being too bitchy? I’d needle her a bit more and then pull back.

“A bullet is just a bullet. It goes through, then nothing. Just a teensy-weensy hole. In comparison, you sledgehammered my ass.” Deen’s voice rose toward the end. She was struggling to keep up her apologetic poise.

Wow, I probably did hit her too hard. I was proud of myself.

Two choices here. Either act hurt and victimize myself further, or be the one to calm the tension and look like the good guy even though I was the cause of this. I preferred the second choice—it’d guilt trip Deen while positioning myself higher between us. There were instances the first option was better, but it involved being submissive and weak, and I wasn’t in the mood for that.

I faked a giggle. That broke Deen’s rising temper. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “You said ass,” I said. “Have you ever said that to me before?”

“I have.” Her brows furrowed. “I think…”

“It’s like the word ‘fuck.’ Always so shocking and funny when such vulgar words leave the beautiful lips of Amber Deen Leska.”

“Vulgar? It’s just ‘ass.’ Nothing to it. Ass, ass, ass, ass!” We both laughed.

“Deen… I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m not going to promise not to do it again… because I might.”

“Erind!”

“In all seriousness, I couldn’t control my strength. I’m sorry.” If analyzed, this was actually a non-apology, but Deen wouldn’t think of that. “However, if you misbehave again, you know what’s coming for you!” I stuck my tongue out to show I was joking, though I was serious about it.

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“Jeez. You should be aware of your strength. I can regenerate if you hurt me—I know you won’t intentionally do that. But what if you can’t control your strength while hugging your mother?”

“I-I’ll be careful…” I hung my head as if in shame. The situation was turning around. I was in a good mood whenever I manipulated people. But I wasn’t going to stop. “Deen, um, I-I’m still feeling guilty about what I did to you. It was accidental… but still…”

“It’s fine, Erind.”

“Do you want me to kiss your boo-boo?” I asked, chuckling.

“Boo-boo?” Deen took a step back, her eyes wide. “You want to kiss my butt?”

“I’m not kissing your butt, you freak,” I retorted. “I was copying what moms say when their kid gets hurt. Kiss the wound to fool the kid into thinking the pain will disappear?

“Oh… I didn’t know that. Mom never…”

Fuck. Awkward much? “Well, yeah, that was a joke, so—”

“Okay then.”

“Huh?”

“A kiss, and I’ll be okay.” Deen approached me while tapping her lips. “A friendly kiss.”

“Like on the cheeks?”

“Lips.”

“Kiss on the lips?” I was aware that some girls who were super close friends did it.

“I already kissed your cheeks.” Deen stopped in front of me. “A kiss, and I’ll forgive you.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Yes…” Deen grinned.

I wasn’t going to back down from this one. And I didn’t have a problem with the concept of a kiss compared to hugging. “Fine,” I said with a melodramatic sigh as if this was a major concession to me. “A friendly kiss.”

“Really? Like real really?”

“Yep.” I put my hands behind my back, indicating that she make a move.

Deen put a finger under my chin and gingerly lifted my head. From her hesitant touch and wavering hand, I could tell she expected me to react negatively or take back my decision. I stayed still, meeting her eyes. Emboldened, Deen stepped closer and cupped my cheeks.

“I’m not going to pull away, you know?” I said with a smirk.

“Just making sure.”

“Making sure what? If I pulled away, are you going to stop me?”

She let go of my face as her cheeks turned pink. “That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t—”

“You said this was payment for slapping your butt, right?” I cut in. Deen slowly nodded. I held her hands and placed them back on my cheeks. She gasped in surprise. “Can this be a payment for all the future bullying I’ll do to you too?” I asked with a grin, hoping that she’d take it as a joke and agree—if so, I wouldn’t violate Rule #4 by gas-burning Deen and other forms of harassment. I was like a classical type of vampire in those old stories, trying to trick a person into giving them permission to enter their homes.

Deen narrowed her eyes. “You’re planning on bullying me further?”

“Yes.”

“Meany.”

I shrugged. “So, what do you say?” Despite having just bathed, the scent of my soap couldn’t overpower Deen’s cotton-candyness. What would a gas-burned cotton candy smell like?

“Uhm… sure,” Deen breathlessly replied.

“Yay.” I tilted my head higher, maintaining eye contact. “Go ahead.”

Deen bent down. Her lips touched mine.