Pencils & Polaroids

41: kiss or kill

I support happy couples. I swear, I'm not against them.

So when I break my best friend's intimate slow dance with her boyfriend to Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran, I know I look like an ice-cold bitch. But with how both Sam's face and Grayson's face were tied with knots of scowls rather than dazzle when they gaped at each other, I believe I did them a favor. 

"I need to cut in." I appear between them like a pastor. 

"We're having a moment." Grayson's teeth grind. 

"Not really a charming one, is it?" Sam bites back at him. 

Okay, I definitely walked into live hot drama. When I say "I hate drama" I mean I hate being involved in drama. Other people's drama? Big fan. 

Especially the ones where I get to side with my best friend and tear down Cross Boys. 

They stop swaying and both their hands eschew with mirrored hostility. Grayson Finley's face instills wavering pity in me so when he attempts to leave, I block his route with lifted brows. 

"I told her I find Stella charming--" He drawls with zippy remorse when Sam jeers. "No, her singing--I find her singing charming."  

And the pity is gone. 

"The rat to her pied piper." My best friend retorts. 

I bat my eyelids wishing for Sam to not make it any more awkward than it's already become. I'm a smart person who is capable of giving life-changing guidance but now's not the time for me to play couple's counselor. I much rather think I'm the one who is in dear need of the said psych advice. 

"You know what, Park? Take over. Please." Grayson steps away. "And tell your friend I'll be waiting near the pit, far far away from the music. She can join me after she's done finding her brains." 

"Wha--hey, watch your fucking words!" I retort to his swiftly disappearing back. 

When Sam and I are both done thoroughly glaring at Grayson, we return our attention back to each other. One lingering moment later, I hold out my hand. Not just her, but a few closeby pairs gawk at my stretched hand too. 

The reason being I, Park Mellon, don't dance. Ever. I'm strictly away from anything even remotely romantic. Slow dancing--dancing in general, happens to be a vital spotlight for romanticism. But judging how bad my best friend's mood already is (thanks Finley), I have to take the bull by the horns. 

Thankfully, without much questioning, she takes my hand and we dance. Only, she thinks my extending of comfort was for her to vent. So when she starts with "He literally sides with her on everything. Every damn thing. He loves her. I know it, he is falling in love with her and I will be dumped here, in San Fransisco. I can already see it happening--" I am compelled to counsel. 

"She's your captain. You're both kinda forced to listen to her." I have raged the lioness. 

Sam's nostrils flare. "Did you just take his side?" 

Nope. This is not looking good for me. "God, no. Although, I thought the two of you are on the same side."

"No, we're not. Not right now." Sam shrieks. "It's bad enough she has Luke and Archer drooling over her, I don't need her to pawn my boyfriend too." We both eye at how both Luke and Archer are fixated on her. It's the most evident Bermuda Triangle of Ravenford. "Look at her pink hair, black guitar, and perfect body. Couldn't she have been at least a little ugly?" 

I'm smirking as I wait for Sam to look back at me. Her frustrated face begins to fake-cry when my smirking turns into soft chuckles. 

"What?"