The Wolf's Song

Friendship And Jealousy

Diana

The fresh air was doing nothing for my mood, which was worsening the longer the cold chills my bones, but it was a welcome discomfort, my insides aflame with--something!

What was that? A kiss on the cheek? That woman fawning over him, and his guise of indifference. Ha! I was not one to make snap judgments about people, but Laura rubbed every part of me the wrong way. How did one have a perfect messy ponytail with perfect bangs and the perfect outfit? It didn’t make any sense!

I groaned as the encounter replayed over and over in my head, more details sticking out each time. My phone chimed and I was grateful for the distraction, hoping it was anything but a spam email. I sighed joyously when it was my social media reminding me of my friendship anniversary with Sandra. I swiped it again and decided I could use a little Sandra time. The phone rang a few times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice was thick with sleep; I could barely make out what she said.

“Happy five-year anniversary!” I shouted gleefully. She groaned, and I heard her bed creaking as she rolled over.

“It’s 7:28 here,” she moaned. I laughed, completely forgetting about the time change. My mother seemed to call me whenever the mood stroked her, so I hadn’t been paying much attention to the time change.

“Oh, my god I’m sorry. Wait, don’t you have work?” I questioned, knowing Sandra lived at her job.

“Yeah, in like, oh god, in like an hour,” she groaned.

“Then you should thank me.” I laughed as she whimpered. She worked hard and played even harder; it truly was a gift, but I had come to realize that those who were super smart could party and hang out better than the rest of us normal people. Sandra could drink with anyone under the table and still manage to get a perfect score in her exams the next day. I thought it was a natural talent, but she teased that it was because of her upbringing. She was Asian and Irish and loved living the best of both worlds.

“How’s Germany? You like your grandmother?” she asked me. The sounds of her coffee machine brought me back to my coffee-drinking days. I didn’t miss it at all though, not since my mother and Martha opened my eyes to the world of tea.

“It’s been interesting. Martha is great. She wanted me to call her grandma and I do--it’s just different doing it to her face, you know. My cousins…” I paused. I didn’t want another person worried about me, so I reconsidered and glossed over the tragedy. “They are cool. I actually kind of met someone, I think.”

“What? A guy?” Sandra piped up.

“Oh my god, yes, a guy.” I laughed. “His name is Michael, and he’s been really sweet to me, he listens to me. I think he genuinely likes women,” I said.

“Well, if he’s crushing on you, I would think so,” Sandra responded, slurping her coffee in my ear.

“No, I mean some guys desire women, physically but don’t like--I don’t know, don’t get invested in what they like, or take the time to try something they never would have, just because their woman likes it. They want women, but respecting who they are isn’t always included in that. And that’s not the case with Michael. At least for the most part,” I said, remembering what I witnessed between him and Laura.

“Wow babes, this sounds serious. You just met him, and you sound like you’re in love,” Sandra said, putting her soon-to-be psychology degree to work.

“Not love, that’s crazy,” I said, though my heart fluttered at the thought.

“And does this ‘not love’ measure up on the Thor-o-meter? You know it’s nearly impossible to have both a good personality and good looks,” she chuckled, but I knew she was dead serious.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that. Yes--” I started, then paused and glanced around, feeling eyes on me.

“Hello?” Sandra called after my hesitation.

“Uh sorry. Yeah, no, he breaks the meter. He has those blue eyes, icy, they are so intense like he’s reading my soul and stripping me at the same time. His nose fits his face, his voice fits his frame, and his frame is perfect. Pecs, six… no, eight, probably closer to twelve-pack, muscular legs; it’s everything, Sandra. I didn’t even mention his hair--long, soft, and better maintained than mine. I could literally look at him all day and not even care that I had things to do.” I sighed, the image of him sweating and shirtless that day Francis brought me to his house firmly planted in my brain.

“Yeah, I’m going to need a picture. But still babes, guys are complicated, you’ve got classes, goals, and your mother. Is now really the right time? Hot or not?” Sandra laughed.

“Really?” said that deep voice I just drooled about. I spun around just as a gust of wind blew raven hair across Michael’s face, the steam from the cup he was holding temporally hiding his face. “Am I just a pretty face and a hot body?” he asked, the smoke clearing displaying the disdain on his face. He scoffed and retraced his steps.

“Hey Sandy, I gotta go. Call you later, love you.” I hung up. “Michael! Michael wait!” I yelled to him as I chased after him. I had to call him again before he twisted, halting my pursuit.

“‘Six no eight, probably closer to a twelve pack,’” he quoted me. “Twelve packs aren’t even a thing, Diana. I thought women were supposed to be more evolved than men and capable of looking beyond the physical,” he snapped.

“We aren’t blind. And men are capable too,” I defended myself, but I knew I was in the wrong. Of course, he had to hear that part, and not when I said how well he listened and tried to know me. I groaned, trying to figure out how to salvage this without giving away my feelings too much. This was supposed to be a perfect morning.

“Are you saying you don’t walk around in those tank tops to not show off those muscles?” I said and regretted it the moment it left my mouth. This fool of a man had my mind in shambles and had me sounding like every creepy guy at the gym. “That came out wrong. I don’t think you’re just a pretty face, but I can’t deny that you have one. Laura clearly agrees with me. Women aren’t that extra attentive to average-looking men,” I hissed, annoyed at myself for even bringing it up.

“Laura? What are you even talking about?” he said, crossing his arms, and closing himself off from me.

My mind went blank. Did he truly not see how much Laura was into him? She was practically throwing herself at him and taunting me along the way.

“You know what, never mind,” I said, not wanting to think about her anymore or expand this fight any further. “I think I should head back.”

“Yeah, I’ll add a chauffeur to the list of things I am for you,” he growled and started off.

“Hey!” I yelled at him, but he didn’t turn to look at me. I hated fighting with him, and it was in poor taste to diminish his qualities into physical attributes.

“My feelings for you aren’t superficial,” I said, yet leaving out what they actually were. He turned his head to the side, one icy eye finding mine.

“Yeah, then what are they?” he dared me, noticing my omission.

My heart quickened at the thought of letting him know the depth of what I felt. Forcing myself to swallow them and degrade what I knew was in my heart to just appearance was my defense mechanism, one I wasn’t really to lower yet.

I worked my jaw to speak, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come out. Maybe I could pull him and kiss him instead, saying what he needed to hear without making a fool of myself by expressing what I had been failing at hiding, but before I could make a move, he turned back and headed inside.

I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding as I watched him walk away with more of my heart. I couldn’t stay mad at him, because I thought, in his way, he just told me he had feelings for me.