We've Met Before

3 - Tea and Vodka

KAIA

    Jane, and Jennifer, sit next to me in the fitting room of Windsor, watching Gabby switching in and out of dresses for the junior prom.
    We all give oo's and ah's at each dress, even though they all seem to look the same, they all just happen to be different colors.
    Jane edges closer to me, whispering towards me. "I'm so hungry. Do you think she'll be done soon?"
    I snort. "Will she ever be?"
    Jennifer claps excitedly as Gabby finally comes out of the dressing room, wearing her eighth dress of the day.
    The lilac sheath of a dress drapes perfectly around her body, cinching in all the right places. She runs her hands down the front of the dress, smiling to herself in the mirror.
    "That's the dress," Jane says, leaning against the wall.
    "Right! Ugh, it's just so perfect!" She beams.
    She goes back to the dressing room and takes it off. We all wait for her outside the store, talking and laughing from the jokes Jane makes.
    Gabby finally comes out with a large bag in her hand.
    "Let's go!"
     We all walk to a small crepe shop that sits nestled between two other clothing boutiques. It looks fancy, sophisticated, and the sort of place I'm not dressed correctly for.
    We walk inside and it smells warm. There's an open kitchen lay-out where you can see the chefs creating every single crepe, all frantically travelling across different corners of the kitchen, adding; and sizzling; and concocting.
    Jane takes my hand and strings me along to where Jennifer and Gabby are already sitting.
    A waiter strolls to our table.
    He's tall, and handsome, and has an innocent flint in his eyes that has Jennifer, Gabby, and surprisingly Jane swooning.
    I look at him and want to feel as flushed as my friends. I want to feel as love stricken as they do.
   "Welcome to Sweet Paris, my name is Aaron and I'll be your server for today," he slips a notepad from his apron, "What would you all like today?"
    All three of them stare in awe, jaws practically slacked. I give them all a kick under the table and smile inconspicuously. "I'll have a black coffee, and a chocolate crepe please."
    He gives me a bright smile and waits for everyone else to finish order.
    He finally leaves and I watch as everyone's hearts stop thumping against the walls of the restaurant.
    "You lot couldn't have made it more obvious? You were practically drooling over the man!" I laugh, seeing their skin return to it's not-so vibrant red color.
    "Well, not all of us are void of emotion, Kaia." Jennifer huffs, rolling her eyes.
    "I do have emotions, they're just better kept in lock and key Jen." I say, propping my elbows on the white table.
"We should get Kaia a boyfriend, or something of the sort!" Jennifer squeals.
"Hm, who could Kaia date?" Jane asks, bringing a questioning finger to her chin.
Just then, Aaron strolls by with our drinks, dropping each one down on the table in front of us.
We say our thank-you's and continue the conversation.
"I'm okay where I am. I just don't like anyone like that."
Gabby rolls her eyes, "Yea right. You should date Elliot."
Jennifer spits out her tea, splattering the liquid all over Jane who sits right across from her. She starts a coughing fit.
"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" I ask, stroking my hand along her back.
"Yes, yes, I'm okay. Keep talking." She urges, recovering.
"Anyways," Gabby mumbles, "Where we're we?"
    "Did any of you hear about Cade and Ashley?" Jennifer whispers, looking around for anyone who might overhear.
    I think it's my time to choke on my coffee.
    All of them gauge my reaction, eyeing me for a sign of negative emotion. I don't budge, I stare straight at all of them, sipping lightly on my coffee, hiding the fact my head is tingling.
    Gabby says nothing, staring at her lap.
    Jane is the first to say something, "Who cares. Cade Steele is the dumbest person on this earth. Him and Ashley deserve each other."
    All eyes travel back to me.
    I roll my eyes, giving up, "Could all of you stop?! You don't have to walk on egg shells when it comes to Cade Steele. I'm over everything that happened, it's okay," I breathe, exhaling the breath I was holding.
    Jennifer gives me a sympathetic smile, looking at her sister.
    They must be telepathic.
    "We don't walk around egg shells, Kaia, we just know it's a bit weird to talk about him." Jane says, watching Aaron come with our crepes.
    He lays our food on the table and smiles sheepishly at me. He turns on his heel and leaves, bringing a hand to a ruffle the back of his neck.
    Jane, Jennifer, and Gabby all stare at him, jaws slack.
    I slam my hand on the table, not hard, but hard enough to bring back their attention.
    "Could you all stop eye-fucking the waiter?!" I whisper-shout.
    They all giggle, and I can't help but laugh.
    I hate them with all the love in the world.
——
    I lay silently on the couch, clicking through all the new options on Netflix.
    Hm... Bridgerton? Maybe I can rewatch You...
    My clicking is interrupted by my phone ringing. I groan. I pick my phone up, staring at the contactless number.
    I pick up.
    "Hello?"
    "Kaia?"
    I throw myself back against the couch, letting out a frustrated groan.
    He laughs from the other side of the line.
    Him and his stupid laugh.
    "Excited to hear me?" I can hear his smirk through the phone.
    "How did you get my number jackass? I blocked you months ago."
    He clicks his tongue, "I have my ways, Turner."
    "Save me the theatrics, what do you want?" I spat, channeling all possible anger.
    "Where was this attitude on Friday, Turner?"
    "I could be asking you the same thing, Steele. Last I remember, you can barely form sentences around me. Watch your tongue."
    Am I a lot less confident when I'm around him?
    Yes.
    But the phone knows nothing about shyness, so over-the-phone arguments will do the job of satisfying my stalling snarky remarks.
    Maybe, if he hadn't stalked around for my number, I wouldn't be in a situation like this.
    "Got me there. Look, I don't want to argue with you, Turner, I wanted to ask if you wanted to study tomorrow afternoon? Go over uh... plot points or whatever." He mumbles, clearing his throat mid-sentence.
    "I have plans tomorrow," I lie, pursing my lips together.
    "With who?" He startles.
    Your mom. "Jane."
    "If I call Jane, right now, she'll tell me all about your plans with her tomorrow?" He ponders.
    I wouldn't past him to actually do it.
    How does he have Jane's number?
    "Yes, go ahead."
    "Right... I'll call back in five minutes with her response—"
    Before he can hang up I speak, "No— Okay, fine."
    His grin is screaming at me through the line saying you're stupid. "Fine what?"
    "Fine. I'll study with you tomorrow."
    "You always know how to make me smile. See you tomorrow at 3." He hangs up, and I shove my phone against my chest.
    I feel like I just completed an illegal drag race, and then proceeded to compete in a best-clown competition, and after I won first prize, I drowned in a pit of orange soda.
    The front door opens, and in walks my mom.
    I watch as she drags her feet against the wooden floors, laughing and screaming like a toddler. I watch hastily as she sets her bags down, rummaging, until she pulls out a nip of vodka.
    She strolls towards the couch I'm sitting on, the little bottle dangling between her fingers like a knife ready to slice.
    "What are you doing?" She spits, almost doubling over.
    I stand up, and push her back until she's standing stable. "I'm just watching Netflix," I mumble.
    "You should be exercising or something. You've gained weight." Every words exit in a mountain of unrecognizable slurs, each consonant dragging out to make long syllables.
    "Sorry," I murmur, carrying most of her weight towards her room.
    She lays down and cradles her head like she's having the worst migraine of her life.
    "Oh, you give me such a headache, Kaia. I can't stand it when you're around here, just sitting there like you deserve to be alive." She mumbles dizzily.
    I swallow.
    I swallow everything I want to throw up.
    "I'm sorry." I mumble through gritted teeth.
    It's usually worse. It's usually scarier than this. It's usually frightening, terrifying, to see her come home like this.
    She cradles her alcohol bottle in her arms like it's a child, showering it with her heat the way she used to with me.
    I watch as her eyes close, hazy, and lost.
    I walk out, my tears brimming.
    You're so sensitive.
    You're so weak.
    I walk straight to my room, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. I plummet into my mattress, closing my knees against my chest, cradling myself.