Chasing the Tide
Page 57

And then Nadine plopped into my life. She was the complete opposite of anyone I had ever hung out with. We were like oil and water on paper but in the real world, we funnily enough got along.
It was only a month or two after I had arrived at college and I was once again, bored and slightly miserable in my dorm room on a Saturday night. Then there was a knock at my door. I opened it to reveal a short girl with brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. Her clothes were a cross between groupie slut and J-Crew. Huh?
I recognized her from my American Lit class. She talked a lot and always answered the professor’s questions. She was chatty and endlessly perky without the help of caffeine. Otherwise someone I’d never purposefully associate with unless I was dying on the side of the road or something. Even then I’d have to think about talking to her. Yep, I was judging her without knowing her.
Hypocritical asshat table for one.
“There’s a metal and mayhem party over at some bar downtown. It looks pretty fun. Wanna come?” Was she mentally deficient? Who just knocks on some random person’s door and invites them out to a bar?
Apparently this chick did.
“I don’t know you. Why the fuck would I go to a bar with you?” I had asked, narrowing my eyes. It was instinctual to be a bitch. You know the saying, find something you’re good at and stick with it.
Nadine hadn’t been intimidated by my shitty attitude. On the contrary, she smiled at me as though I were absolutely adorable. It was infuriating. It was one of the only times in my life I wished I had my psychotic reputation to rely on. Then she would never have thought about knocking on my closed door.
“Yeah, well I don’t know you either, but I figured hanging out together might be a good place to start.” I eyeballed her bipolar ensemble, trying to get a read on her and failing miserably. She seemed to be your stereotypical preppy girl with little make up and perfect hair. But she was wearing a leather bustier and skinny jeans. On her feet was a pair of leather boots with spiked heels that would have made Dania jealous.
“I don’t think so,” I had said, starting to close the door, but Nadine had stuck her foot out and wedged it in the doorway.
“So you’re just going to hang out in your room for the rest of the school year? Sounds pretty lame to me,” she had remarked, not coming in but not leaving either.
“And your opinion really matters to me. Nice shirt,” I sneered. Nadine had looked down at her ridiculous outfit and shrugged, not bothered by my nastiness.
“It’s not my normal style, but I think I work it.” She had put her hand on her hip and struck a pose, pocking her bottom lip out dramatically. I snorted and rolled my eyes, not able to help myself from laughing.
“So, you can smile. Good to know. I was beginning to wonder,” Nadine had said cocking her head to the side. “Come on. If you hate it you can leave. But I’m trying to get a bunch of people together to go. It should be a hoot!”
“And you thought to ask me? Are you drunk?” I asked dryly.
Nadine laughed. “So you comin’ or not?” she asked, not rising to my bait.
I looked around my room and realized I had nothing else to do. “Sure, why not,” I had told her.
She didn’t clap her hands or let out a whoop like most obnoxious people I had encountered. She had simply nodded her head and backed out the door.
“Okay, well get dressed and I’ll come back and get you in twenty,” she had said.
I remembered looking down at my plain jeans and cotton shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I had asked.
“It’s not slutty enough. Show some skin,” she had told me before closing the door.
I had scrounged through my closet and came up with nothing that could possible fulfill the slutty quota required. When Nadine arrived back at my room exactly twenty minutes later, she shoved something shiny in my hands.
I held up the most hideous fake leather pants I had ever seen. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” I asked, horrified.
“You put one leg in one hole, then you put the other leg in the other hole. Then you pull them up over your ass and zip them up. Do you need help?” Nadine had asked wryly and I looked at her as though she had gone insane.
“Do you expect me to wear these? They’re ridiculous!”
“Yeah, well looking at your wardrobe, you’re not in much of a position to pass judgment,” Nadine had commented, her eyes looking pointedly at my shirt with a hole in the armpit.
I hadn’t decked her. I hadn’t gone primeval and ripped her hair from her head and then thrown her out the door. Call it maturity, or maybe just common sense, but I didn’t resort to physical violence to handle my irritation. Go me! I didn’t shout in her face or shove her out of my room either.
Honestly, I thought she was kind of cool. What in the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe I had simply spent so much time by myself lately I had forgotten what constituted as “cool.”
So I had put on the horrific pleather pants and had gone to the bar with Nadine. I had hated it. I left early, leaving Nadine there.
I thought that would have been the end of it.
I was wrong. Because Nadine was relentless in a way I wasn’t used to. And maybe I was in a position to be more open to people I wouldn’t have normally given the time of day. Flynn had fucked with my people repelling force field.
Our friendship had grown gradually without effort or pressure. It was easy in a way being friends with Dania had never been.