See No Evil

“What’s your problem? You look like someone keyed your beloved Porsche or something,” Easton jokes as he takes the seat next to mine.

“It’s nothing.” I slump back, pressing my lips in a slight grimace.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Did you get another letter?” he whispers in my ear.

“No,” I grunt, pulling back away from him and snapping my pencil in half, with just the mere mention of another letter from The Society showing up on my doorstep.

It’s because of this stupid society and their threatening letters that my head is all screwed up in the first place. Sure, I was already in a pretty fucked-up situation before they were added to the equation, but they sure as shit raised the stakes with my fragile sanity.

“Hey, chill, Fi

“I am acting cool, asshole,” I bark back, infuriated with him for talking to me like I’m the weakest link in our foursome.

But who am I kidding? I probably am, and that’s why The Society chose my stupid ass to do their bidding first.

“You’re cool, huh? Oh, I totally see that. You’re a regular fucking iceberg, dude,” he mocks, nudging my shoulder with his, trying to lighten my dark mood.

I huff out and grab another pencil from my bag, pretending to be taking notes. Yes, pretend, because my head isn’t in the right frame of mind to actually care what my philosophy professor is talking about, much less take notes. But if it will get Easton off my back, then I’m willing to at least try and act like the dutiful scholar. However, before I even have a chance to put pencil to paper, he grabs it from me and starts tapping his knee with it repeatedly.

“Spill, Fi

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Really? You’re going to make me guess? Okay, I’m game,” he replies, now tapping the eraser end of my pencil on his pouty lips in deep thought.

Yeah, he can keep it now. No way do I want it back. Who knows where his mouth has been? And no, I’m not being a dickhead. Easton isn’t known for being picky with his conquests, and since I didn’t lay eyes on him all weekend, who knows where he’s been holed up. Or, more importantly, with who.

I rummage through my book bag again to see if I’ve got anything else I can write with, when Easton starts throwing out possible scenarios of why I’m all riled up, only resulting in aggravating me further.

“Your dad give you shit this morning?”

“No.”

“Your mom?”

I slightly turn my head his way, slanting my eyes at him at the absurd statement.

“Yeah, that woman is a peach. I don’t see her busting your chops so early on a Monday morning. So, it has to be your coach. He’s the one on your case, right?”

“No, asshole. He’s fine. Dad’s fine. Mom’s fine. Everything is just fucking fine!” I whisper-yell, giving up completely on my endeavor in finding a pen or a pencil.

Fuck it. I’ll just try to memorize whatever Professor Donavan is excitedly talking about on the podium below. That is if my insistent best friend ever shuts his pie hole, which I doubt very much.

“Fine, huh? I can totally see how fine things are from the vein threatening to pop on your forehead. You know, if you scowl any harder, those wrinkles are going to be a permanent thing. You’ll look fifty before your twenty-third birthday.”

I let out an exaggerated exhale and turn to face my inquisitive friend.

“Can you please just let it go, East? Seriously, I’m not in the mood for your twenty questions or your sarcasm.”

“No can do, brother. That’s the price you pay for being my best friend. I’m a curious fucker.” He chuckles, squeezing my shoulder.

“Emphasis on fucker,” I quip back with a small smile, slapping his hand off me.

“A joke. I’ll take that as progress,” he teases.

Even though he’s a cocky motherfucker, I love the asshole for trying to uplift my spirits. But as grateful as I am for his stubbor

“I got it! It’s the Southie, isn’t it? She’s the one who has your panties in a twist.” My face must rat me out because the victorious smile cresting his face is so damn wide that I want to slap it right off him. “I must be losing my touch. She should have been the first person to come to mind. I knew she’d give you trouble. So, what happened? I thought you were finally gaining some leeway with her.”

“Nothing happened. And I was… I mean, I am gaining some leeway,” I mumble, frustrated and confused.

“I can see that. So, Friday night didn’t go as pla

“It went as expected,” I reply through gritted teeth, not really interested in giving Easton the specifics of what went down with Stone.

“Is that all you’re going to give me? Come on now. Something must have happened for you to be all bent out of shape. What did she do? Mace you? Kick you in the junk? Break a bottle over your head when you tried to kiss her? What? Because with a girl that feisty, my imagination can paint quite a picture.” He chuckles, stretching his long legs and resting his big black army boots over the headrest of the vacant seat in front of him.

The girl sitting hunched over right next to it shakes her head profusely, unimpressed with his comfortable, yet disrespectful pose. I knock his feet off and mumble a pathetic ‘sorry’ to the top of the girl’s head, apologizing for my friend’s poor ma

“Stop being a dick, East,” I reprimand in a low voice, but he just shrugs it off ‘Easton-style’.

He relaxes his shoulders, placing his entwined hands behind his head, and looks up at the high ceiling while manspreading, as if he had all the space in the world, which he doesn’t. These auditorium rows hardly allow enough room for me to sit comfortably, and Easton eating up my precious space is not going to fly. I slam my knee against his, commanding the fucker to close his legs and give me back my legroom, only to have him chuckle in my face some more.

“You don’t want to talk, then don’t. I’ll get it out of you eventually. One thing’s for sure. We lucked out on whoever is trying to fuck us over. I can think of a whole list of ways that they could be making our lives a living hell. Sending letters ordering your ass to spend time with a Southie hottie doesn’t feel like one of them. I mean, we should be groveling for mercy, or ru

“I guess we should all feel lucky you’re not the one who’s calling the shots then,” I mumble.

“Ah, but what fun I’d have if I were.” He laughs out loud, not caring about his deep, throaty laugh interrupting the class.

“Jesus, can’t you take anything seriously?” I bark at him, not impressed that he is talking about this whole society thing so cavalierly.