23

                                    

                                          
Isabella
Arguments multiply over who's going to sit in the car's front seat.
"It's common knowledge that when your boyfriend is the one driving, you take the passenger's seat." Seb glares at me as he dunks his fist into the water of the front yard's fountain.
"If you were a little more realistic," I counter, "then you'd know having to sleep with my fake boyfriend every night is a dread on its own. I'm not sitting next to him for an hour."
Aya laughs and shoves my shoulder. "Come on, come on. You have his tattoos on you. Why is sitting beside him so frightening?"
I stomp away from the stone pavement surrounding the fountain and follow the path to where Blake is standing beside a shrub of swishing pale leaves. He tugs at the white collar emerging from underneath his pastel green sweater and glances at Aya and Seb following behind me, then taps his fingers at the rectangular box hidden below his black pockets. Resisting the urge to take out his cigarettes from inside.
"You're not very good at hiding what you want," Seb tells me.
"I don't want him! I just want―"
"The splendidly thick chunk of beef hiding behind his pants?" Andreas' voice strikes through the lashing wind whipping my hair and runs straight to my ear. I didn't even hear the front door open or close.
Aya and Seb snicker as they join us. I want to wring their necks.
"Come on," Andreas says. "We've got a party to get to." Our arms interlock and he moves us through to the iron gates. With him by my side, hurriedly taking us across the pavement, it's hard to admire the vegetative aspects of the luxurious yard. I briefly glimpse the angel statue in the far-right corner that had severed and plunged into the pond before my date with Leo. Except it's all in one piece.
"When did you fix that?" I look at Andreas then to the mended statue.
"A landscaper replaced it this morning. While you were at the mall."
"You got someone to attend to it after a day?"
"The secret is offer an illegal and generous tip." He grins at the scowl I give him. Then his features soften. "My garden is special to me." He unbolts the gates, keeping our arms together. "I can't stand to see it damaged."
A sharp gasp sounds from in front of us before I can respond. I had forgotten to tell Leo not to pick me up.
I unhook my arm from Andreas' and go through the gates, as fast as I can with these humongous heels, and pause before Leo. His fingers are clutching the sleeves of his mocha blazer, and I feel a pang of guilt as I take in his bewildered expression.
"Leo," I start. "Listen, I am so sorry. I had been busy, and I forgot to―" I pause when his eyes drift to my hands, then my shoulders. Then to Andreas' own tattoos as he catches up behind me. "He forced me into it."
Andreas turns his fuming stare to me. "Baby, bullshit doesn't sound good on you."
"He indirectly forced me into it," I correct.
"Seduction doesn't equal forcing you."
"Even better. He seduced me."
"And had a lot of fun with it."
"The king of fucking arrogance you are."
"Indeed. I rule you."
Before I can strike Andreas' knee with the bottom of my heel, Seb intervenes and puts himself between us. Aya and Blake join, amusement flashing across their faces. 
"Guys, guys, guys. You don't think that's enough babbling? Look at the poor guy." Seb waves a hand over Leo who looks like he's been injected with a drug that's stunned him. 
"Listen to me," I place a gentle hand on his shoulder, "I sincerely apologize, and to show you how deep my sorrow runs, I'll let you take me to the party."
My legs move into a failed sprint. I rush across the road verge, damp mud squelching with every step of my heels, until I'm at Leo's car. I breathe out in relief when I find the passengers door unlocked.
Leo follows my entry inside and takes the driver's seat. He looks at me warily. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Your boss―or boyfriend or friend or whatever―just told me to never steal from a starving man."
"What?! Yes, it's absolutely fine. Quick." I look out the window, not finding Andreas among the others. "Lock the door!"
The opening of the backseat's door tells me I'm too late. Andreas lugs his bulky body through the cramped space and flumps in the center. "Fuck." He tries to get the seatbelt around himself. "Automobile designers never take into consideration the safety of larger users."
Blake falls in beside him, and informs plainly, "The position you've taken up is suited towards children aged four to seven."
The belt manages to click in place.
"Get out of here!" I'd think my frustration was at its uppermost level if Seb hadn't invited himself inside too, followed by Aya who perches on top of him. She slams the door closed, as does Andreas when he reaches for the opposite handle. Everyone is squashed with him between them.
"Start the car, bitches," Aya shouts. They're all shuffling in the crammed space—except for Andreas who's leaned back, legs spread open. I want to maul that grin off his face with the tips of my red acrylics. Before I can kindly share my wish with everyone else, the engine rumbles.
"Leo!" My head whips to his direction. "Why are you starting the car?"
"I don't know." We begin moving. "You're going to be stuck with him forever." A quick peek at my tensed shoulders.
"You're right, Leo," Andreas chips in. "An educated assertion, you've made. Tattoos are in fact irremovable."
"I can laser them off," I retort, watching the streetlights flash across my vision as the car continues moving.
"No, you can't," Seb says. "That's going to hurt like a bitch. Like being jabbed with needles that've been dipped in lava then touched to your skin for hours. Basically withering your body, leaving a permanent mark."
Blake scoffs. Aya snorts.
"He's correct," she muses, "I've gotten a miniature butterfly tattoo lasered off before. Such a tiny design yet felt like a straighter to the hand—full heat."
I offer her a friendly death stare through the rearview mirror. "You're not meant to join in on their tag team."
"Baby, baby, baby." Andreas' elbows fold on the corner of I and Leo's seats, and he brings himself forward. "Your pain tolerance runs so low." 
"You don't know shit about my pain tolerance," I snap. "But Leo...he might find out tonight." Everyone in the car, except Andreas, begins chortling. His attention leaps over to our driver, who ignores him and eases out of his laugh, then to me. He's flattened his lips, eyebrows angling downwards.
Then as the hysteria settles down and we're moving through midnight towards our delirious destination, Aya and Seb rambling on about the ideal cookie flavor and Blake silently looking out the window, he kisses my cheek and passes me his phone. I try not to focus too much on the grimace that forms on Leo's face.
But displayed on the phone, in small and thin letters, is a message that forces my thighs together and activates the space between them with a lustful promise:
Ask your date to let us stay back in his car. We'll test how much pain you can handle then.