on shaking

Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? Then think of what you did, And how I hope to God he was worth it.- Panic! at the Disco (Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off)
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You're so good at flirting with guys.

I laugh, somewhat uncomfortable at this proclamation. Me? Good? Right.

I just like to control things-

I finally tell the cute blonde in front of me. She's adorable, and I don't know why on earth she thinks I know what's going on.

I just wish I knew what to do about Max-

I cringe when she says this, even though I know she isn't talking about my Max. My Max isn't mine, and hasn't been for... well, ever. But he's the only Max I ever knew. Association is a bitch. I take in a breath though, and let it out slow.

This isn't about the demons in my closet not vanquished, this is about the heart breaking in front of me. Can I mend it?

He's just using me? Isn't he? Be honest.

The pout on her face makes me sad, what a buzz kill. I set my drink down on a near by speaker, and grab her shoulders. Honesty is a bitch.

Maybe is he. But only because you're letting him. You want to fix this situation? Take control.

What do you-

Look, I'm not good at flirting. But I'm good at being in control. If you think he's out for one thing, don't give him that one thing. Just walk away.

She doesn't seem to like my advice, as we walk over to the bathroom. I look in the mirror, as I fix my hair meticulously and continue to talk to her as she freshens up.

Once I liked a guy. He acted like he wanted me too- and then just when I was supposed to go visit him, he said he just wanted to be my friend.

I'm sorry-

she cuts in.

No worries,

I say smoothly as I smooth lip gloss over my lips and stare at my reflection.

It's just one of those things that happen. But I couldn't very well let people think that it was me that had been rejected, what's that do for a reputation? So I still went to visit, still went to the party that I knew he'd be at. And I made myself look great. I mean, better then great. I spent at least an hour making myself look better then he'd ever seen me. It worked like a charm, he couldn't stay away from me-

So things worked out?

She looks so eager, I hate to crush her.

Not exactly. I had him right where I wanted him. I let him take my back to his place, and just when things started to get hot- my phone rang. Right on que.

I mimic picking up my phone,

Hey! I'm kind of busy right now.... oh, no I'm not with him.... no, sure, I'll see you back home tomorrow. Click.

Her eyes widen, as she covers her mouth to keep from laughing.

I hung up the phone. I yawned. I said I was tired, I went to sleep. The next day he drove me back to my friends, and as I got out of the car I was completely nonchalant. I guess I'll see you around. The end.

I turn away from the mirror to look at the sweet blonde.

You can make any situation look good if you just control it.

I could never do that. You're commanding, I fumble even when I think about trying to flirt with a guy.

My heart goes out to her, and I give her a hug.

You'll figure things out,

I say quietly.

My methods aren't that great. They're just what I do to get by- if you never give yourself the chance, you'll never get hurt.

I think quietly to myself the rest-

And if you never give yourself the chance, you'll never find love.

My hand shakes as I retrieve my drink from the speaker, and take a sip.

Where did I go wrong?

on last names

Get it, got it, catch it, caught it, and lost it. Yet I can't stop it, it's embedded in my optics, Plus the frustration is a product of the gossip, If you can't walk away can you at least change the topic?- Atmosphere (A Song About a Friend)
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I slept with his best friend last night.

The shock on her face is expected, and my face becomes flushed with color just thinking about the idiotic thing I've done-

I don't even know his last name,

This solicits a laugh as I turn to drive down the road, turning the music up to drown out any further conversation.

I can't believe it! I'm so proud,

she jokes, yelling over the music, but than turning it down, as I roll my eyes.

Don't be. I've royally fucked my life up now, thanks. Everyone knew.

Where were you?

Some party. I don't even know how it happened-

You were consciously making the decision, right?

Sure. But I'm probably willing to do a lot after the amount I had,

I say truthfully, adding-

It's not that i regret it, I just, don't think it was the smartest thing I've ever done.

We all make mistakes babe, you're so my sister,

she assures me, a twinkle in her eyes. I still don't feel better.

So about the other night-

I'm on the phone with you now and not sober. Am I ever sober, anymore?

I can't believe that happened-

I mumble, staring at the tree right outside the back porch I'm standing on, I can reach out and touch it easily if I want, but it looks prickly so I refrain.

I don't even know his last name,

I lament. You laugh. That seems to be the common response to my honest sad thought.

He's not right for you, he's a total douche-

you tell me. Insert twenty minute rant about why he's so wrong, such a jerk, and i'm better off.

Thanks, I guess?

The next night I lay awake in bed, staring at my ceiling. How'd I get here, why'd things end up like this? I tell myself that I'm just making mistakes and living life, but I'm not so sure. I fall asleep peacefully, telling myself I'll forget you and him and all that mess. Sometimes you just have to let go.

In the morning I awake to my alarm, and to my surprise, a text message. I open it up- it's from you-

His last name is Stewart!

Complete with the exclamation, I throw my phone across the room, and bury back into my covers.

I liked it better when I didn't know.