Mercedes never thought she'd be the other girl. She talked to him once, the rest shouldn't have happened. Here's the deal: his brilliance is innocent; he's outrageous, it's so contagious. She di...
"Mercedes, when's the last time you actually left your apartment?"
The girl in question threw her bedroom door open and glared at the girl standing in front of it. "How did you get in here?" Mercedes gasped indignantly as she rushed to a conclusion. "Did you break in again?"
It was the other girl's turn to gasp indignantly as she clutched at her chest. She narrowed her eyes accusingly and put her hands on her hips. "Again? When did I break in the first time?"
Mercedes stepped out from her room fully, before closing the door behind her. "Hmm..." Mercedes thought sarcastically, putting a finger to a chin. She lowered her gaze from the ceiling to her friend's face.
"Would you like all of them, or just the latest one?"
The other girl's shoulders slumped, as she pouted at Mercedes. "Well, if you would just make me a key..."
Mercedes sighed. "And see your ugly mug every day? Megan, I don't like you that much."
Megan followed Mercedes into the kitchen. "Bitch, please. You'd see my ugly mug every day even if you didn't give me a key."
Mercedes turned around sharply, a big toothy grin plastered on her face. "But if I made you a key, you'd be legally allowed in. This way is more fun. I could decide to go psycho bitch on you one day and have you arrested for breaking and entering."
Megan snorted, before crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't hate me that much."
Mercedes turned back around, and tied her rib-length brown hair in a messy ponytail.
"That was a nice deflection, though." Mercedes heard Megan say from behind her. "But back to the important issues - ARE YOU CLEANING Mercedes?"
Mercedes looked down at the dishcloth in her hand, and then to an astonished Megan. "Yes, why?"
Megan groaned. "Mercedes," she whined, "it isn't even dirty in here!"
The Mexican beauty put her hands on her boy-shorts clad hips. "I'll have you know, this is the first time I've cleaned in three hours!"
Megan copied her posture, with an added dry look. "Mercedes, this is exactly what I'm talking about!"
Mercedes' posture faltered as she stared at her friend. "What's exactly what you're talking about?"
Stealing the dishcloth from her friend, Megan gestured around wildly. "This! You're so neurotic it's not even funny!"
She crossed her arms defensively, before stepping towards the cupboards. "I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffed.
"You're so OCD," Megan added sourly under her breath.
"You need to get laid," Megan replied brightly.
Mercedes was so appalled, she screeched. "Megan Lee, I can't believe you just said that!"
"Mercedes Isabel," Megan replied in a snotty tone.
Ignoring her friend, Mercedes brushed by her and returned to her room. Megan didn't understand the closed door, and went in after her. "Listen M, I'm seriously worried about you!"
Mercedes turned the light on in her walk-in closet. "Well don't be!" She replied, sifting through her clothes.
"But seriously, I think a guy would be good for you! Just think of it - someone for you to look at, and realize this is it, it can't get any more perfect than this."
Mercedes raised an eyebrow at Megan as she peaked her head out from her closet. "That sounded terrible! And plus, I don't need a guy to be complete, Megan."
Megan sighed and waved her hand dismissively, before leaning back on her hands from her position on the bed. "You know what I meant."
Mercedes sauntered over to Megan. Standing at the foot at the bed, Mercedes turned around to face the mirror, holding the material behind her neck expectantly.
Mechanically, like this was the routine everyday, Megan stood, and tied the brown material around Mercedes' neck.
Megan sat back down, and Mercedes marched back to her closet. "And anyways, what makes you think a guy would make me feel like that?"
Megan snorted at Mercedes' question. "Because it happens to everyone. There's always going to be that one weakness you're not going to be able to get over. We've tried /everything/, Mercedes, and I'm afraid a guy may be your kryptonite."
It was Mercedes' turn to snort. "Kryptonite? Megan, I didn't know this was Marvel Comics!"
A soft grunting sound resonated from the closet as Mercedes pulled on her skinny jeans.
"You know what I mean," Megan huffed in response.
"No," Mercedes argued, emerging from her closet and turning off the light, "I really don't."
Megan turned her body 180 degrees to stare at the bathroom door Mercedes entered.
"I mean, grasping a guy's hand, and just knowing that it fits. Him hugging you, and you knowing nothing bad is ever going to happen as long as you're there. When he uses play wrestling as excuses to touch and be near you. Him making up stupid excuses for you to come closer to him, or for you to help him. That look on his face he gets when you're angry with him, but he finds it the funniest thing in the world."
Megan entered the bathroom, just as Mercedes finished with the curling iron. Her hair now lay in large, loose curls down her back. "Scratch Marvel Comics," Mercedes admitted, unplugging her curling iron and spraying her head with hairspray.
As she set the can down on the counter, Megan noticed a somber expression pass over Mercedes' face. "I didn't know this was Walt Disney."
Megan frowned into the mirror. "This isn't Walt Disney, 'Cedes."
Mercedes leaned forward, as she applied so earthy shades to her eyelids. "Sorry Meg, but I really stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago."
Her face sobering up, Megan stepped forward, with a dedicated look on her face. "Silly girl, I know you haven't given up!"
Mercedes paused to give her friend a suspicious look through the mirror. "I haven't?"
"Nope. You're just in complete denial, and are waiting for your own prince charming to come and whisk you off your feet."
Mercedes rolled her eyes. "I'll let you know when I figure out why we're friends."
Megan's smile was almost blinding, "Babe, you're reminded every time I fix your mistakes."
Mercedes' smile was innocent. "And once you finally fix one of my mistakes, I guess I'll know what you mean."
Megan clicked her tongue against her teeth and swatted at Mercedes' arm. "Bitch."
"..." Mercedes looked at Megan with a raised eyebrow.
Throwing her hands up in surrender, Megan sighed. "I know, I know; I heard it too."
Laughing, Mercedes threw an arm around Megan's shoulders and led them into the front foyer of her apartment. "/That/ is why we're friends, right there."
"Because I'm piss-in-your-pants funny?"
"No, because you remind me how smart I am."
Megan shoved Mercedes' arm off her, and proceeded to put on her shoes. The action of Megan stomping to her shoes and less than gracefully shoving her feet into them only made Mercedes laugh harder.
"So, my beautiful Mexican friend, where do you want to go?"
Mercedes looked at the sky through her large white sunglasses. "I don't know, do you have any -"
Mercedes was suddenly yanked to the side, as Megan pulled her over to the window of the cafÃ©, and pressed her face against the glass. "Mercedes..." she began, bouncing on the heels of her feet.
With a dry expression on her face, Mercedes took a step back. "Megan, would you like to go in there?" she asked, sounding like a teacher talking to a small child.
There was no verbal reply, as Megan grabbed Mercedes by the hand and pulled her into the cafÃ©. They must've made quite a loud entrance, or else everyone in the quaint place wouldn't be staring at them as if they had announced they were Adolph Hitler's disciples.
Being the bashful person she is, Mercedes tried to slip into the nearest booth, but Megan wouldn't hear of it.
"No!" Megan declared, "We're sitting over there."
"Why over there? Here's perfectly fine."
Megan narrowed her eyes at Mercedes. "'Cedes, don't think I won't embarrass you in front of all these people." Mercedes looked at Megan. She knew her friend wasn't joking; she really would embarrass her in front of all these people.
Mercedes sighed, before standing and following Megan to the little couch.
"No Mercedes sit over here."
"Megan, why are you yelling?"
"I don't know, /Mercedes/!"
After sitting on the couch, Mercedes pulled Megan down. "Stop it!" She hissed, eyeing the group sitting at the table beside them who were discreetly staring at them.
Megan followed Mercedes' gaze. "Eyeing the merchandise, are we?"
"What?" Mercedes screeched, jumping up in alarm. "/You/," she emphasized, pointing at her friend. "Are too horny. You need some serious TLC and - guy in the black hoodie, would you STOP staring at me - stop focusing so much attention on me!"
All Megan did was clasp her hands together in her lap and smile innocently at Mercedes.
Growling quietly to herself, Mercedes moved towards the counter. "You are so getting decaf today," she muttered under her breath.
As she was waiting at the counter for their coffees (well, here's was a hot chocolate), Mercedes heard the sound of -
-Screeching chair legs.
Looking behind her, she watched in horror as Megan literally leapt at the table the group of people had been sitting at. Looking at the exit, she watched as the guy in the black hoodie turned and watched Megan indifferently.
As soon as Mercedes paid for the hot chocolate and decaf, the manager of the cafÃ© tapped her on the shoulder. "Miss, I'm afraid your friend is causing a disruption, and quite frankly, it's freaking a few people out."
Mercedes bowed her head. "Yes, I'm sorry. We were just leaving."
In an angry manner, Mercedes shoved the hot liquid at her friend, before dragging her towards the door. "You are so embarrassing, you know that?" she hissed, shoving the glass door open a little too violently.
"Let's go to The Sultry Strawberry."
Megan's comment made Mercedes stop dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?" Mercedes said, looking at her friend. "I am not going to a club named after a fruit."
"That's not a good enough reason."
"Fine. I'm not going to get drunk at some fruity club /in the middle of the afternoon/."
"Who said anything about getting drunk?" Megan wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Growling quietly to herself out of frustration, Mercedes dislodged herself from Megan's grip and began walking ahead. "You know what? Fuck off, you're annoying me."
"/You make me wanna la la, in the kitchen on the floor.../"
The music blasted loudly over the speaker system, as Mercedes slouched disapprovingly in her seat. "I cannot believe I'm actually here."
Taking another swig of her fourth (or possibly sixth) beer, she looked out over the dance floor. No one out there was alone. Everyone was touching and grinding with someone. It didn't matter who it was; no one was anyone.
Megan had left a while ago, after some guy had offered her a drink and a dance.
"Some friend she is," Mercedes grumbled, "drags me here and leaves me here to suffer alone."
"Hey babe, can I buy you a drink?"
Mercedes turned around in her seat, only to come face to face with a rather voluptuous redhead. "Excuse me?"
"I heard you talking about your bitch of a girlfriend. Care to let me take her place for the night?"
Mercedes screeched in the utmost horror before jumping up. "I AM NOT A LESBIAN!" She shouted, backing herself against the table.
It just so happened that at that moment, the song chose to end. Mercedes blushed darker than the other girl's lipstick, as she tried to avoid the silent critical looks everyone was giving her.
"Whatever honey, ask the bartender for Candy if you change your mind," the redhead said, walking away as if Mercedes suddenly wasn't worth her time.
By now, the newest song had started playing. Everyone got reabsorbed in his or her sweat fests, and Mercedes was left to scream into deaf ears. "I am not a lesbian!" She yelled crazily to the hooker sauntering away from her.
"I'm actually glad you're not a lesbian."
Mercedes didn't hear the voice, so when she turned around, she walked straight into someone. Well, she ended up nose-to-neck with him, and she yelped, fairly loudly, and hopped back.
"Oh, um, sorry," he said bashfully, violently shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny.
"It's um..." Mercedes was at a loss for words, as every delicate sound in the club seemed to be magnified.
Since they had been close enough to be doing inappropriate things, Mercedes couldn't even look in his general direction.
"It's Mercedes, right?"
Mercedes' head shot up, as she got over her small fear of looking at him. "How did you..."
"You can tell your friend her 'discreet' attempts to tell everyone your name worked," he chuckled lowly.
Mercedes scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, before looking back up at the guy who now stood at the other end of the table. He was wearing skinny washed jeans, and a red t-shirt with an odd, but tasteful vintage design on the front. He had unruly locks all over the place, and the beginning of a five o'clock shadow. It was too dark in the club, and Mercedes wasn't standing close enough, but his eyes were brown. Either that, or a very dark hazel.
"That last attempt to pick you up didn't seem to go too well, so if I just offer you a dance, will you say yes?"
Mercedes tilted her head to one side. What was the harm in letting him have a dance? Biting her lip indecisively, Mercedes was literally in the middle of the bridge. She could say yes, or she could say no.
"/Only/ a dance?"
A comforting smile spread across his face, as he removed a hand from his pocket to hold out to her. "You can kick me in the balls if I'm lying."
Mercedes took a step back, but the guy only laughed. "Or you could just have me arrested for harassing you. Either way it'd hurt me more than it'd hurt you."
Finally, Mercedes made up her mind. She stopped chewing on her bottom lip, and accepted his outstretched hand. "Just one dance."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," the guy murmured, the grip on her hand tightening as he pulled her through the crowd.
There wasn't much room on the dance floor - Mercedes had to (against her will) grind against the stranger. At first, she was as rigid as a plank of wood.
After the third song, she let him put his hands on her hips to guide her through the song.
By the sixth song, she had her arms weaved around his neck.
By the tenth song, she had pulled his head down towards hers, and was so close; a sheet of paper wouldn't be able to fit between them.
His eyes were half-closed as he moved with her in a hypnotic sway. Slowly, his hands moved from her hips to completely wrapping around her stomach. Her hands made contact with the back of his neck, and slid up the nape of his neck, and tangled into the mop of messy - yet soft - brown hair.
She tilted her chin up and her head back to look at him. He looked at her. Yes, his eyes were definitely brown.
Now, it could've been the alcohol talking - she had had quite a few - or the humid, hot heavy atmosphere, the music, or a combination of the three. Whatever the reason (not a good one she'd admit to later) but she kissed him. It was short and innocent, but Mercedes (even in her drunken state) was never going to forget it.
The song ended too quickly, and before she knew it, Mercedes was being dragged against her will towards the front of the club. She looked down at her arm, and up the other arm pulling her. "Hello Megan, how are you this fine evening?" she hiccupped messily.
"Taking you home."
Giggling again, Mercedes stopped walking. "Meg, just let me grab my purse -"
"I have it."
"Gosh, you really are a violent drunk."
"I'm not drunk."
"Yes Meg Meg, you definitely are."
"No 'Cedes, I'm taking you home so you can sleep off the many drinks you had tonight."
Mercedes sighed, and began walking again. "I didn't even get his phone number."
Sighing like her friend, Megan let out a low chuckled. "Now I know your drunk. You never worry about getting a guy's number."
"But he was /hot/!" Mercedes whined, slouching over, and stomping down the sidewalk.
"Oh," Megan was laughing a little louder now. "This hangover's definitely going to be a bitch for you."