01: Enna Burning; like the book.
"And I was all like, get away from me slut!"
Shell laughs as if it's the funniest thing in the world, the table a chorus along with her. It's Monday morning and everybody's busy with what happened on the weekend, a news reel of who got drunk, stoned and fucked; both literally and figuratively.
At the table we don't talk about our drunken rages and messy morning afters. The picture we make curled up in a public toilet, wishing the world would stop spinning, our minds along with it. About the people we hurt and how ragged we are inside.
We laugh, gossip and glitter; embodiments of carefree youth.
Living with wild abandon, no care for the future.
We've burnt too many, our own and others, to be loved by all. To be 'popular'.
But people still know who we are; they talk about what we do, and who we're seeing. It's almost sickening how we've become a form of entertainment. About as sickening as how our vanity just soaks it all up; the indulgence of having your name on everyone's lips.
"She was completely fucked, they like kicked her out and everything. Enna was there too. Hey E you saw it, yeah?"
"Fuck. Will you just shut up."
I know it's scathing. I know I shouldn't have said it. But it's too fucking early, and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I just want to nurse my hangover in peace.
Looking at her, she doesn't know how to respond. She's the sweet one, coddled almost. But now she's shaken and humiliated. Biting words are usually spoken behind the scenes, and I am very rarely this direct.
"Why the fire Enna, roll out of the wrong side of the bed?"
Eyes shift, he just can't resist playing the gentleman; although we both know he's not doing it for her.
Hair in casual disarray, he's the poster child of recklessness; destructive and sporadic, the one you can't help but watch. Fucking charismatic ass. I'd say he's not here for a long time, just a good time; but we know the intelligent prick will probably outlive us all.
"More like fell out. Learn to stay on your own side."
"How then would you propose we spoon?"
"Is that what you call spooning?.."
I've said too much, I can already see the table's minds ticking away, their thoughts drawing back to all the hearsay about us. Fucking Grey.
The table shifts as I get up, my silence affirming their thoughts. Little goes on, without everyone knowing. But for once, I feel stripped, over exposed. This is too intimate, something I don't want to share. I've got to get out.
As I leave, I hear his voice, quick to joke and the laughter that follows as conversation regains momentum. I feel his eyes on me; analytical and wondering. I feel change digging in its claws with a reluctance to let go.
And so it begins.
Originally a one shot, I like Enna and Grey too much to stop writing them.
Although, I think I may have to eventually bump the rating up; I have a fondness of profanity.