A Deal

Seconds dissolved into minutes, then into hours, listening to each song allowing myself to dissolve back into the slivers of the past like I, myself, am the seconds themselves. In the daze, I find myself leaving my bed to wander around the room to dance to the faster songs, until I settle onto my desk chair. Each lyric fading into the next, and into the next, uninterrupted. That is, until someone bursts through my bedroom door, sneaks up behind my chair, and yanks the earphones out of my ears. I turn around getting ready to punch a possibly home invader with the gall to interrupt my listening session, but instead resist the urge to wipe the shit-eating grin from Colton’s face by shoving him into my bookshelf.

“What’s your deal?” I grumble and I begin to coil my earphones into a neat loop.

“I was just telling you that I’m back, sheesh—” Colton pauses, and bends down to meet my eyes at the same level, sighing as he finishes. “You’re going to break yourself if you keep listening to that stupid playlist.”

I narrow my eyes, then tuck my earphones into the tray beside my laptop. “You don’t know that, I could have been listening to something for the first round of exams this semester. The third year apparently is a ball buster.”

Colton scoffs. “Soleil, you’re my best friend and we’ve been living in this small ass apartment for a little over two years now, I know when you’re listening to that cringefest of a playlist.”

“No,” I interject, “what’s cringe is you using the term cringefest.”

He plops himself onto the edge of my bed and tosses an envelope to me, “That’s rent,” he falls back onto my mattress and tosses his hands above his head, “Sol, it has been so long since you spoke to each other, isn’t it about time that you let him go and try to move on?”

I remain silent and choose to figure out why the envelope hit my chest with a blunt force instead of the flutter of a check or loose dollar bills. The adhesive on the envelope easily gives way to the slightest pressure from my index finger due to the surprising amount of coins that are haphazardly shoved into the flimsy paper. “Okay, we all know I’m still pining for Matthew, but uh,” I pinch a stack of quarters between my index finger and thumb and hold it up towards Colton, “Do you want to explain why there’s like five bucks of quarters in here?”

Colton looks up, creating a fold of fat between his chin and his chest, and makes a dismissive noise before plopping his head back down on my bed. “You’re redirecting the conversation.”

“I would disagree. You being barely able to afford your share of the rent is a little bit more urgent than my boy problems,” I return the coins to the envelope, scowling at the returning thought of how empty my bank account will be after I pay rent.

“Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I had some coins laying around and I wanted to get rid of them,” Colton explains.

A sound of disbelief jets from my lips, “You use coins to buy shit like gum or gas station beef jerky, not shit like rent.” I push myself off of my chair and slide my closet door open. “Next time, can you try to get the rent to me with no coins? You know I don’t carry cash like that, you’re lucky I still have that five from that taco place.” My arm barely slips into the sleeve of my pea coat before Colton chucks a pillow at me to get my attention, “That was a little uncalled for, you could have just said my name.” I finish putting the coat on and swivel myself around, “Alright, I’m going. I guess you’re free to stay on my bed?”

Colton sits up, “Wait, where are you headed to? And that coat isn’t necessary, it’s a little warm tonight.”

“An ATM?” I answer him, “I gotta put this cash into my account so that post-dated check I wrote for the landlord doesn’t bounce.”

“Can I go? I forgot to pick up dinner, plus, I’m pretty sure all we have right now is just some instant ramen.”

“Are you really sure you want to come?” I questioningly look at him, “The last time you rode with me on my motorcycle you almost fell off when I turned a corner too hard.”

Colton scoffs, “That explains the pea coat, The problem is that you don’t know how to turn properly, not every turn is an opportunity to drift.”

I jerk my head towards the door in response, he quickly jumps to his feet, and we set off to my parking space. Once we finish descending the flight of stairs leading up to our third floor loft, Colton halts in his tracks. “Uh, on second thought, let me go get my keys. I don’t want to risk my life tonight.”

An exasperated sigh escapes my throat, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I shout at him as he begins ascending the stairs again.

“Sorry! Dinner tonight is my treat.” He calls out from the second landing.

The mere fact that Colton is responsible for dinner tonight slightly makes my stomach churn. A gut reaction from the last time he attempted to cook dinner for the both of us and we were forced to swallow rubbery fried chicken with clumpy gravy. The possibility of me teaching him how to cook passes my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. In all the years of me knowing him, I know well enough that he is only capable of fully learning something if and only if he wants to learn. Cooking is not one of those things. Though I know he meant that he would buy dinner instead of cooking it, the concept of food combined with the concept of Colton just makes my stomach want to stop working.

Colton returns and dangles his keys in front of his face, “Stay here, I’ll go get my car and I’ll just come pick you up.”

“Kind of like you’re picking up a hooker?” I ask him with a sardonic grin.

“In this neighborhood, with that unnecessary pea coat, leggings, and your slightly smudged makeup, let’s hope no cops come around so I don’t have to say, ‘oh don’t worry officer, this is just my best friend,” he responds with an equally sarcastic attitude, “I’ll be right back, stay right there.” It takes less than five minutes for him to pull the car around to my location, where he proceeds to roll the passenger side window down and whistles at me, “Hey, how much for the night?”

I stick my middle finger up at him and get inside his car. “Just take me to that bank by the clinic down south, and if you want to get us dinner there’s a couple places near the bank.”

Colton begins to drive out of the complex and tilts his head, “I’m thinking wings or burgers tonight, what do you think?”

“Hey, it’s your treat. But I feel like if you’re not eating my cooking, you’re shoving either wings or burgers down your throat.” I roll down the window and let the wind rush into the car.

“Alright, fair enough.” He responds and lets the conversation die down while he winds past the residential streets. Once he pulls into the freeway, he opens his dumb mouth, “Can we resume our talk about you listening to that playlist again?”

My eyes roll to the back of my head, “Can we just let it go?”

“Well no not really,” he continues pushing the conversation, “I’m concerned about you, our walls are paper thin Sol, there’s no way I can deny that most nights I can hear you crying while that playlist is on. That is, if you aren't in the throes of misplaced passion with one of those random one-night-stands.” I can see that he peers over at me from my periphery, and I defiantly turn my head away from him, “All I’m saying is that you’re a brilliant girl, and that it would possibly be a good idea to move on from him.” There’s no use in denying that my heart is so beyond broken. To argue that I’m not harboring some sense of resentment, anger, or at the very least disdain for the situation would be futile.

I remain silent for a while, uncomfortably shifting around in the passenger seat trying to combat the nagging feeling which is seemingly gripping onto my brain. He’s seen me try to move on before and fail at each attempt, not that the attempt itself was worth it in the first place. Just random dudes from dating profiles turning into meaningless one night stand which always ends up with an awkward goodbye or a half meant assurance to call in the morning. Unnamed and faceless, they were all just carnal attempts to replace what I once had and continue to desperately crave. It’s not until Colton pulls into the bank’s parking lot that I respond to him before exiting his car to deposit the money into the ATM, “It’s complicated.”

There are rarely any people hanging around in this part of town this time at night, which makes it the ideal place for someone to deposit money into their bank account, or if someone look at it through pessimistically, the ideal place for someone to get robbed. The small slot finishes processing the stack of cash I deposit, and someone taps my shoulder. I turn around with my hand balled into a fist, but I release it once I see Emilia smiling at me. I haven’t seen her in three years, which according to social media, she completely switched her social sphere to that of her sorority’s. I take a quick glance at Colton’s car and choke back a scoff of disappointment at the fact that his full attention is on his phone. He would be taken aback by Emilia though. In the few years that she had disappeared from our immediate attention, she has gone through something similar to a metamorphosis, albeit not as much as me, but still something significant. The streaks of blue which I had come to associate with her in the past had been replaced with her naturally auburn hair of which she seems to have been taking meticulous care.

There seems to be an immense glow about her, and her voice seems like sweet honey as they flow past her lips, “Soleil, it’s been a while!” She briefly takes me into her arms, “You look great! I haven’t been seeing much of you online, you definitely should post more.”

My mouth hangs and I struggle to bring myself together, compliments from Emilia has always been something that stunned me, possibly something which stems from the mere fact that a part of me is still intimidated by her. “I should be saying that, you really glowed up, and you look ten times better than you do in pictures.”

She waves a dismissive hand at me, “How are things? We kinda stopped talking once Matthew left us for that fancy college.”

I shrug, “Just trying to finish up this bachelor’s degree, and working at a smoothie place and a donut shop at the same time, and rent’s a killer.” I half-heartedly laugh, once again envisioning the lack of a triple digit in my account once the check is inevitably cashed.

“Oh yeah, that does seem like a super busy schedule, and don’t you have a roommate or something to help ease the expenses?”

“Uh,” I anxiously lick my lips, “my roommate is over there.” I jerk my head towards Colton’s car, and remind myself to tease Colton about still being on his phone even though I could have been being robbed this entire time.

Emilia gasps, “Oh I didn’t know you lived with Colton,” she leans down and waves in an attempt to get his attention, “some things never change huh?”

I shake my head, “Let me get his attention for you, maybe let you guys catch up.” I step forward to his car and tap on his hood.

Colton jolts his head up and gives me a questioning look to which I answer with mouthing Emilia’s name and pointing at her. His mouth drops open and he scrambles out of the car, “Is that really Emilia?”

“Yes it is,” she responds with a playful tone, “it’s been a while Colton.”

They share an awkward embrace and Colton asks her, “Wait, what are you doing in town? Aren’t you supposed to be a couple hours out of the city? Don’t tell me your sorority moved here?”

“Well I was actually here to drop off the catering orders for my Sorority’s pool party later this weekend, ” she begins explaining, “they put me in charge of the food detail when I told them that I know someone who manages the delicatessen in this plaza, and the manager said to come an hour after they close so he could go over the order with me and talk about any possible discounts. They have a branch in our city, and so we figured that if we use a manager’s discount here, and just pick up the order in our city, it’ll be cheaper.”

“Oh so you’re basically the coupon lady?” Colton asks in a slightly insensitive manner.

Emilia pauses and straightens her posture, “Always so witty when it doesn’t count Colton, I like to consider it as clever resource allocation.”

“Hey,” Colton responds defensively, “I’m way witty-er now, just ask Soleil.”

“If witty is giving some of your rent in quarters, then oh yes, the wittiest.” I respond swiftly, still slightly bitter at Colton’s choice of rent delivery.

Colton sidetracks the conversation, “Hey, Soleil and I are gonna grab some burgers, do you wanna join us for dinner?”

Emilia shakes her head politely, “Thanks for the offer, but I actually have to head back to the sorority house, and I do want to catch up with you two a bit more.” She takes her phone out of her pocket, “You two still have your old numbers right?” She looks up expectantly, and continues on once Colton and I nod an affirmation, “Cool, I’m texting you both the details for the pool party, it would be amazing if you two could come.” She finishes typing out the text message, and returns her phone back to her pocket. She leans in to embrace me again, then proceeds to embrace Colton. I notice that her embrace with Colton lingers for a little longer than I would think is necessary. “Okay, see you both soon.” She waves goodbye and turns to walk away.

A strangely awkward moment is shared between me and Colton, he shuffles back into his car kicking the pavement with each step, and I deftly get into the passenger seat. We settle into our respective spots where he breaks the silence by simply responding to the last thing I said to him in the car, “I get why things are complicated, with the whole playlist and Matthew thing.” He grips the steering wheel and begins wringing his hands around the fake leather cover.

I furrow my brows, “Are you saying that because of what just happened?”

Colton begins driving, and I can’t help but notice his lips turning into a firm scowl for a brief moment, before he seemingly swallows whatever his emotions were stuck in his throat aching to be released. He shakes his head and a neutral expression returns on his face, “So, burgers. Do you wanna eat in the burger place, the parking lot, or back home?”

“Well,” I roll the window down and take a glance skywards, “It’s a clear night right now, how about we eat it on the roof deck?” I suggest to him, “And we have some tequila, lime, and coke back home, I can make us some batangas to pair with those burgers.”

“Heh, classic dinner at the Castillo-Wood apartment.” He replies brightly, and makes a sharp turn which nearly gives me whiplash.

***

We were fortunate enough to get the apartment that we share, we were the third people on the waitlist for the unit, and it just so happened that the people in front of us found new renting arrangements which meant that the the unit went to us. The complex itself is made up of three separate buildings and the one in which our apartment resides is the tallest of the three and has a quaint roof top deck with a small garden and offers a relatively breathtaking view of the surrounding areas, with Downtown Sacramento’s skyline in the not-so-far distance. Colton sets the two to-go bags on one of the picnic tables beside the ledge of the deck, and I set out the cocktails beside the to-go bags.

“I have a feeling that the only reason you pushed for this apartment is this rooftop deck.” Colton remarks as he begins setting our food out onto the table.

“This view definitely is worth it though,” I gesture outwards, “you know I’ve always loved the stars and the skyline.” I join him at the table, and help organize the fries, taking out some of the strays and housing them in my mouth. “So, do you want to go to that thing Emilia invited us to? I know it’s a couple of hours away, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

He makes a contemplative face and bites into the burger between his hands. He takes a couple of chews, and with his mouth full of food, he remarks, “The pool party? Sounds fun but awkward.”

I toss a couple of more fries into my mouth, “How would it be awkward?”

“Think about it,” he points a fry at my face and draws a circle in the space between my face and his as if he were circling an answer on a test, “a sorority pool party, with a bunch of people we barely know, and weirdly fancy food. It doesn’t seem like our kind of thing.”

“Counterpoint,” I begin unwrapping my burger, “what if we go just to see if it has the possibility of being something we could fit in with, you know, something we could do to break out of our habits.”

“What’s wrong with our habits!?” He exclaims defensively, sprinkling the table with spit along with a stray piece of chewed lettuce.

I take my finger and move my burger away from the area on the table with his spit. “I’m just saying that it could be fun to branch out a little bit, we don’t have to actually swim, we can just kinda hang out and see what the vibe is.”

A devious smile appears on his face, “So is this you also saying that you might be ready to delete that depressing playlist from your phone?”

Blood begins pooling in my cheeks and I shoot a dangerous glare at him.

“What? All I’m saying is that your argument totally sounds like something someone says when they’re ready to move on.”

“I meant that we could mix things up and move away from burgers and wings as the go-to meal, not something like that.” I respond to him.

The grease soaked paper from the burger is barely lifted by my finger before Colton begins what feels like the start of an interrogation. “So you’re arguing that you want to move on from something that isn’t based on a pathological tendency.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” I deadpan.

“Aha! So you admit that you still not getting over that yuppy bitch is pathological?” He lifts a fry into the air in a pseudo-eureka moment.

A part of me screams at me to bring up his reaction to seeing Emilia, but I quell that piece of me with a bite of greasy burger.

In response to my icy silence, he takes the fry and tosses it into his mouth, “You can consider Matthew to be like my love for burgers and wings. Totally bad for me, and something that I should probably ditch, but it might take some time to actually getting around to doing.”

“It truly amazes me how fast you can switch a suggestion to a conversation about Matthew.” I say before taking a large swig of my cocktail, “If anything, that just kind of proves what my Uncle Raul says about people’s obsession with love.”

“Oh that weird metaphor about the sticky note?” He asks.

I set the glass onto the table and clear my throat of any lingering taste of tequila, “It’s not weird, at best it’s weirdly poignant.”

“Okay, then explain it to me again, because from what I remember you telling me about it, it’s just about how like love is like a sticky note.”

“Close,” I begin explaining, “he said that love can be written on crumpled stationery, written on sticky notes wedged between the pages of a book or stuck on a fridge door, or baked into the edges of a chiffon cake. The point is that love takes different forms but the common thing about is that people like talking about it. Kind of like how we always end up interacting with it in some way, and we are all obsessed with it on some sort of level.”

“Yeah, see that’s weird.”

“Well, an example of this is how obsessed you are with me still not getting over Matthew.”

“Oh so you do admit that you’re not over him?” He asks expectantly, as if he caught me admitting a lie.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. And the same goes for you, with that reaction when you saw Emilia.”

His eyes turn dangerous for a moment, though they don’t change in form or shape, there is a bit of anger behind his blue eyes. There is a moment where I am entranced by the searing anger piercing through his eyes which seemingly shooting through my own cornea, but the trance is quickly broken when he says, “Fine, let’s go. Only on two conditions.”

“Which are?”

“You shut up about Emilia, and you give me permission to find you a nice guy, so you can test out the waters and finally find a reason to delete that playlist.”

I swallow the bit of burger in my mouth and begrudgingly respond, “Fine.”