When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 27: 26 - Chanel in knockoffs

“What could you possibly have to be sad about?” I couldn’t not roll my eyes as I asked the question.

Considering the fact that the girl I was talking to was on the verge of tears, my tone was less than

friendly.

I knew I had signed up to play point guard for Mae’s crush on Zach when I agreed to go to Finch’s party

but I honestly hadn’t counted on her getting irrevocably emotional-blubbering-mess drunk. Had I

known, I would’ve unapologetically declined. I had enough on my plate as it was and even if I didn’t, I

just wasn’t one for the full range of human emotions. It wasn’t my thing. It was like asking Coco Chanel

to wear a knock-off or Einstein to organize a fun day off. No. Just no.

“He won’t even look at me.” She sniffled, turning the full effect of her wide teary eyes on me.

I gritted my teeth, an inborn defense mechanism to having my barely-there heartstrings tugged.

“So? You started liking him, what? Last week?”

She raised her head to meet my gaze, her smile wobbling in a way that made it clear water works

would follow if I didn’t tread carefully.

“Sorry.” I pasted a congenial smile on my face, sighing inwardly.

I could have been at home, battling virtual characters, reading a novel or even watching reruns.

Anything beat sitting in a corner of Finch’s kitchen, consoling a friend over another friend she started

liking less than fourteen days ago.

I heaved a sigh, staring longingly out the window.

One of the guys getting high out back popped in, heading straight for the fridge. He paused briefly,

sending a nod our way. I nodded back, my impersonal smile making it clear it was not a good time to

approach us.

“You don’t understand,” Mae wailed, throwing herself into my lap.

I drew in a fortifying breath and reminded myself that roughly pushing her off might make her throw up.

And that under normal circumstances, I actually did like her.

“I really don’t,” I replied a beat later, my irritation under control.

Boys were just boys. As friends, they could be pretty great but I didn’t see what was so amazing about

crushes and boyfriends. They came and went. I definitely didn’t date with thoughts of marriage or

‘forever’ in my head. Not many people my age did either so I just couldn’t see why, despite knowing

they’d only break-up, they still took boyfriends and crushes so seriously. It was just high school. If the

feeling wasn’t mutual, it was as easy as moving on to the next crush.

I forced a smile as Ashley, one of Claire’s minions –Charlie’s angels as Masked Idiot dubbed them-

walked into the kitchen to refill her cup of soda.

“That’s because guys always like you first.” Mae sighed, pushing her lips into a pout as she sat up.

“You’re like catnip for them.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink to steady myself before replying, “Catnip? Really?”

I could’ve been having fun right now. Seriously. I wasn’t trying to be an unsympathetic friend. Anything

but boy drama and I might’ve taken it seriously. Boy drama was just something I could never get

behind.

“And you’re never invested. I don’t know how you do it. Like how did you walk away from Rigo? Rigo!”

Her gaze, wide and confused, latched onto my face. “How did you even get him to fall that hard for

you? He’s practically a serial player.”

I rolled my eyes again.

Rigo having a crush on me hadn’t exactly been fun for me. He had always been one of the cool boys,

the coolest really but he was never on my radar. We barely used to say hi to each other until one night

when we got stuck walking Mae home from a party. According to him, they were childhood friends. It

turned out to be true but at the time, I did not know that. Mae was stupidly drunk so I was more than a

little suspicious of his intentions when he claimed he was going to be a ‘gentleman’ and walk her home.

Everyone at Claire Anne’s knew Rigo. He was the biggest player there was and he was unrepentant

about it. Gentleman my foot. As a great friend, I, of course, insisted on accompanying them. Sisterhood

and whatnot. That was how we started talking. How he got on my radar.

He made his intentions clear from the beginning. No strings. No talk of defining anything. Just casual

fun. So casual we didn’t even have to be friends. Of course thanks to my eternal need to

compartmentalize the different parts of my life, I instantly decided that was what I needed. A causal

situation. No strings attached. No meeting the parents. No picking me up from home for dates. Nothing Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

that would inform my parents of his existence. It was the perfect proposition.

On paper, it was the one entanglement that should’ve worked. All the other guys I ever tried going

down that road with wanted real relationships and things either ended because I wasn’t a good

girlfriend -calling everyday, asking about their days, telling them about mine etcetera- or because they

were getting close to meeting my parents.

My parents weren’t against dating but I knew them well enough to know that they’d scrutinize and

criticize every tiny detail. They would complain about everything and if the boy didn’t meet their

standards, they would react like I had failed an important test. For the rest of my life, they’d never let

me live it down. Things were never forgotten in my house. My house was one where every time you

screwed up, there would be a recount of every screw up you’ve ever had in your life just to make you

feel worse.

I wasn’t ready for that. At all. Unfortunately, bodies have cravings that need to be satisfied or I would’ve

laid off boys completely.

Rigo was supposed to work. It should have worked. Unfortunately, he caught feelings and ruined

everything. It became a whole big deal when he started going after me because he was Rigo and ‘Rigo

doesn’t do relationships,’ and I was supposed to be flattered. Just like that, I was in the situation I

wanted to avoid in the first place and somehow still the bad person for it.

Thankfully, it never went beyond the walls of school. At least that part of our initial agreement got

through his skull.

“Till today, I can’t tell you how it happened. I did nothing to encourage him. Not even small talk.”

I barely even texted the guy. It was just the occasional heated make-out session on his couch or in a

dark corner at a party.

She sighed heavily like she had just been told nothing else could be done, she’d have to die single.

“It’s your elusivity. You don’t want them and even when you do, you don’t want them badly. It’s like; if it

works, it works. If it doesn’t, next.” Another heavy shoulder heaving sigh. “I wish I was like that. I wish

nothing mattered to me. That I was just fucking great at every damn thing like you.”

My stomach roiled and it wasn’t because of the Pepsi. I pasted a smile on my face as I stroked her hair,

arranging it on her back.

“First, it’s elusion. There’s no such word as ‘elusivity’.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed her empty cup aside. I graciously handed her mine even though I knew

she’d be uninterested in my lukewarm cup of soda. Pepsi.

“Second, I don’t see any reason to want them badly. There are lots of boys so why stress over one?” I

had enough highly demanding people to please already to bother adding one more.

I gave a noncommittal shoulder jerk, shaking my head lightly at Louise who was making a beeline for

us. She got the message and diverted.

“Third, I did try. I wanted to work things out with Paxton, remember? He was the one who ended things.

And lastly, I don’t see why you can’t do it too.”

Paxton was, in some ways, the one that got away. On paper, he was the perfect candidate for a

boyfriend. He was smart, cool and kind. He had the best smile and prettiest eyes. The fact that he had

won the male category of ‘take home to mama’ two years in a row now said it all.

Unfortunately, our relationship had been ridiculously short lived. He was busy a lot with extracurriculars

and sports, and expected me to always be the one to reach out as if I didn’t have a lot going on with my

three jobs, ‘interning’ at my mom’s firm, academic competitions and everything in between on top of the

fact that I just wasn’t a ‘reach out’ person.

We eventually ended when his parents split -third time, for the record- and I wasn’t supportive enough.

Never mind that at the time, my mom was away and I had turned into a living breathing punching bag

who temporarily had to take over the post of editor-in-chief of the magazine for my aunt who was

getting treatment for her obstructive jaundice. She needed surgery and clearly entrusting a virtual

magazine to a fourteen year old was perfectly logical.

Honestly, I didn’t get how or why everyone always expected me to do it all, to make it work every time.

A lot of time, I really just want to scream, ‘I’m a fucking kid! Give me a break!’

“Yeah, after you ditched him how many times? Then only sent a text on his birthday and ghosted for a

whole week? You didn’t even go to his party that day and everyone went,” she recounted. “You broke

his heart.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. He got hurt and yes, I wasn’t the best girlfriend but he knew that before

getting into the relationship and it wasn’t like I wanted to bail on his birthday. My dad was in one of his

moods that day and I couldn’t show up to the party bruised and crying. I was picture perfect Avyanna

Johnson for heaven’s sake.

It hardly mattered anyway because after the altercation with daddy dearest, I cried myself to sleep only

to wake up hours later, after the party was over. No way on God’s green beautiful earth was I going to

tell anyone that though. Being a picture perfect heartless bitch was an easier cross to bear.

“Whatever,” was all I said aloud.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Mae sighed, setting my cup down. “I can’t do it. I care too much. You’re...

you. No one else can be. Not the way you do it,” she said somberly.

“If you weren’t my friend, I’d so hate you,” she added, her words slurring a little.

“Yeah, well... good thing we’re friends then.” I rose to my feet. That was enough heart-to-heart for one

night. “Let’s get you home.”

“So fast?”

“It’s past midnight.”

She got to her feet shakily and exaggeratedly dusted herself off before locking her arm with mine. Her

head found a resting place between my shoulder and neck.

I sighed and patted wisps of her hair down.

“I envy you right back, babe,” I whispered.

The walk from the kitchen to my car took fifteen minutes. We kept having to stop to chat with one

person or the other. Claire included. She wrinkled her nose at my dress and snobbishly informed me

that it wasn’t my color.

Cue my infamous eye roll.

I heaved a sigh, quietly locking the door behind me before creeping into the house. Or at least, that

was the plan.

“Avyanna,” he boomed.

His voice slurred in a way that told me the alcohol cabinet was missing a bottle. At least.

I hate, hate when people call my full name. Nobody, not even teachers were allowed to. There was just

something about other people doing it that I found disrespectful and irritating. The right to use my full

name was entirely reserved for my parents. For when I screwed up. Or in my dad’s case, when he was

drunk or testy.

He was currently both.

There must have been some case that wasn’t working out quite well. A ruthless criminal still at large

despite his efforts. Or a cold case with no leads surfacing.

My eyelids drifted shut, resignation washing over me as my fingers reached for the light switch.

“Dad.” I forced a smile as the lights came on. “You’re still up.”

He was seated at the dining table, two bottles opened in front of him. A distant part of my mind

wondered how many, if any, had already been disposed of.

“Past midnight. A sensible respectable girl is only getting home past midnight.”

The way he sneered the words had dread washing over me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Then why did you?”

I didn’t realise I was backing away until my back hit the door. Chill after chill ran down my spine. I

gulped, fear choking me.

“I... uh... I lost track of time.” Damn it, Avyanna. Grow a freaking spine.

I didn’t know why I was even trying. I had long since figured out the reason behind all these

altercations. It wasn’t because I didn’t wash the cutlery well or because I didn’t fold my laundry -my own

laundry for heaven’s sake- on time or because the food was too salty or even because I was home late.

It was much simpler.

He needed an outlet. I was there. That was all there was to it.

“And what was that today? Showing up at the station for no reason and smiling at Parker like some

cheap flirt?” He undid his belt, rolling it around his hand with deliberate drawn out movements. “If you

don’t have any respect for yourself, I will teach you to have some for your family.”

I tried to swallow despite the painful constriction in my throat. My eyes squeezed shut, a last ditch effort

to keep from crying.

I’ve always found it funny how most positive emotions are only felt in the brain but even the tiniest

negative ones evoke a physical response. Churning stomach. Tight throat. Prickly eyes. Trembling

fingers. And worst of all, tears. I pressed back into the wall, making myself smaller as he slowly

prowled towards me, prolonging my misery. My hands fisted at my sides to hide the fear induced

tremors.

It would only make him angrier.

I drew in a shaky breath, the first teardrop spilling over as his palm came crashing down. Quiet, my

subconscious warned, don’t wake Olly up or you’ll drag her into this.

So, I clenched my jaw as tightly as I could, focused on the smell of alcohol and took it. Like always.