I briskly walked through the line of stores. I smirked when I saw a shirt with the words “I survived La Esperanza!” It didn’t have anything else on it, other than splatters of blood, but everyone should know what it was about. They allowed such a distasteful shirt to be sold? And in the airport of all places? I slowed down to check out more of the shop’s offerings, hoping there would be a Blanchette shirt—that was probably too much.

Then I crossed the bridge on the way to the main airport building. Looking outside, I saw many planes landing and taking off, their lights like giant fireflies in the black sky.

“Erind, wait for me!” called Deen.

Took her some time to find me, I thought, smirking.

I didn’t look back and continued walking, going a bit faster so she’d run some more. I left her while she was paying for the white blouse she dirtied. A few drops of my blood fell on it during our tussle. Tussle—that was a tame way to describe almost getting cannibalized by my best friend. There were a couple of people in line at the cashier, so I had a head start for my dramatic walkout.

“I thought you were going to leave me,” said Deen, catching up to me.

“I did leave you,” I curtly said.

“Right…” Deen sighed. “You’re still angry.”

I slowed to a normal pace. “I’m going to the arrival area to wait for Mom.”

“Wait for your Mom… yeah.” Deen looked down. She hugged a brown paper bag; the white blouse was probably inside. “Erind. Listen. I’m really sorry that—”

“You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you more,” I said in a steely tone. I wasn’t pretending to be angry. I am angry. And I wanted to hurt Deen a lot.

Beauty privilege didn’t come with a pass to hurt me. If we weren’t in a public place, I would’ve beaten her within an inch of her life. No clue how to measure that, but I would’ve done it. The hugs, groping, and even the kisses were one thing. I had grown mostly used to them. Hurting me was different. It would’ve been better if she punched me. Drawing blood just somehow made it more offensive.  

For a moment, I weighed whether biting me was commensurate with what I did to her as Blanchette.

Not really. Maybe only half of it or something. Deen still had a balance to repay.

“Again, I’m sorry,” Deen meekly said. “If it’d make you feel better, you can slap—”

“Deen, keep a lid on your masochist side.”

“What? No, I’m not a masochist! I just don’t want you to be angry at me anymore.”

I stopped walking. Deen also stopped a step ahead of me. She turned around. I softly held her cheek where I slapped her. I hit her so hard that I dislocated her jaw and left a giant black welt on her cheek. Fortunately, she held back a scream despite the pain. Thinking more about it, that slap was enough to cancel out whatever her biting balance was.  

“Does it still hurt?” I asked. Of course, it no longer did. Deen made sure she regenerated her injury, her skin back to flawlessly smooth, before we left the dressing room.

This was a classic abuser tactic—be extremely nice after hurting someone, so they’d be more than happy to patch things up and think the abuser was a good person who simply made a mistake. Though this was an abuser’s tactic, I was just practicing it because it was funny. I wasn’t actually abusing Deen. Putting on record that she tried to bite my tongue off. And a hundred percent her Guardian Angel told her not to do it, but she continued. She deserved what I did to her.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” said Deen, holding my hand on her cheek. “I really didn’t mean to do it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure most people don’t mean to bite their best friend’s tongue off.”

Deen’s face lit up. A smile crossed her face, but she pulled the corner of her lips down to look contrite. She was probably happy that I called her my best friend and I was joking around. “I’m sorry. I think… I think we shouldn’t… shouldn’t do those kinds of stuff anymore.”

“What stuff?”

“The kissing… and… and…”

“Okay, we’re going to stop that.”

Her face fell. She expected me to disagree with her. She hesitantly mouthed ‘okay’ but didn’t make any sound.  

I smirked. “Why do you look so disappointed?” I reached up to her with my other hand, cupping both of her cheeks. “Could it be that you want to kiss me?” Then I pinched her cheeks, laughed at her stupid face, and continued onward.

Deen walked beside me but didn’t say anything. I had no clue what was going through her head. Nothing good for sure. After we passed a crowd of angry people who were left behind by their flight, Deen had gathered enough courage to tell me what she was thinking about.

“Erind, I swear I’m not messing with you when I say this, but I admit it… I like kissing you.”

“And we’re going to stop that.”

“No! I mean, we shouldn’t—wait a minute. What about you?” She leaned down to peek at me.

“What about me?”

“Why were you doing it?” In a lower voice, Deen clarified, “Why were you kissing me? Did you like it?”

“I did it to mess with you,” I said with a shrug. Deen frowned as she straightened and looked forward. I could tell she was disappointed. “And I did like it.” Deen gasped. I smirked. She was so predictable. I continued, “But I'm not going to do it anymore because I'm not going to risk getting eaten by my best friend.”

“I wasn’t going to eat you! It was just you’re so cute that I… Know what? I’m not going to continue that sentence and incriminate myself. Promise I’m not going to bite or eat you.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” I said. “People would be surprised to know that Amber Deen Leska, school crush and role model was such a freak.”

“I’m not a school crush,” she indignantly replied.

“That’s what you’re denying in my sentence?” We both laughed. Then I said, “I’m still not forgiving you though.” I jogged away from her.

“Erind!” Deen said, chasing me.

---

 

Deen and I were on a balcony overlooking the throng of arriving passengers. Mum wasn’t down there yet. Her flight was delayed, but it would arrive soon. No surprise about the delay. It was the Greaves Tech Fair this weekend, and the normally busy as fuck airport was even busier. There were Greaves banners everywhere.

Many people were waiting on the balcony too. I hated crowds. Good thing that Deen had a sort of intimidating aura around her that people didn’t want to breach. They recognized she was a superior specimen of the human race. Some guys did try to take pictures of Deen, though.

I decided to be friendly to Deen again, so I could keep her guessing if I was still angry with her or not. And it was super boring not doing anything while waiting for Mom, so might as well have someone to talk to. We didn’t touch anything about the incident in the dressing room. Just law school, lessons and assignments we needed to catch up on, what our classmates might be doing now. Honestly, I almost forgot about them.

But topics were running out. This reminded me that we’d sleep in the same room later. What were we going to talk about then? I didn’t want awkward silence. This was why I didn’t want sleepovers—once a party was done, that was it. I go back home to recharge.

“So… what are you going to do with that blouse?” I interrupted.

“I’m going to wash it and wear it, of course. A waste if I won’t use it after buying it.”

“Or you can just leave the blood on,” I said, recalling the ‘I survived La Esperanza!’ That design did look cool. If I had a shirt like that, no one would bat an eye if I actually killed someone.

“Why would I leave it on? Do you—do you want to leave a mark on me?”

I realized the degenerate shit going through Deen’s deranged mind. “No! That’s because… because it’s evidence of your crime. You haven’t paid for it yet.”

Deen pouted. “You still haven’t forgiven me?”

“Let’s play a game.” A game you can’t win, I evilly thought. “Look, Mom’s plane is arriving. If you can guess who she is among the passengers coming inside, I’ll forgive you.”

---

 

As expected, Deen didn’t correctly guess who Mom was because we didn’t look similar. We were back in the condo after another tiring pilgrimage through the paths of heavy traffic. Mom had a video conference about the Tech Fair or something. Busy, busy as always.

Me, I was in my room, eating Mom’s presents, savoring the moments of peace before the start of the torture. The chocolates from Switzerland were good, but I would’ve liked them sweeter. Part of me wanted to get a lethal dose of sugar so I wouldn’t sleep in the same room as Deen later. Mom also gave me gingerbread. I gratefully accepted them, but I considered them an abomination. My tongue couldn’t decide whether they were savory or sweet.

A knock on my door. I cursed under my breath but still opened the door and let Deen inside.

“What’s this?” She gestured at the sleeping bag on the floor.

“I’m going to sleep on the floor, and you’ll be on the bed. And before you object, I’m doing it because you’re the guest.”

“Erind, I know that’s not the reason. I swear I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ll be sleeping too. Just get on the bed where it’s more comfortable.”

“Also, I don’t want to wake up to half my face eaten.”

“I’m not going to do that!” Deen was visibly pissed now. “That was a mistake, okay? You’re the one who eats—” She sharply breathed and covered her mouth, looking panicked.

I strode forward and glared up at her. “What were you going to say, Amber Deen Leska?”