She tries not to look that way but she just can’t help it. The temptation of seeing her best friend hitting on the hottest girl in town is something she can’t resist.
And she squirms at the sight of him all over her. She has no idea why.
He tells her all about his “dark” hanky-panky-ings and they both laugh over them. He demonstrates the best methods of “picking-up” girls and they text each other later in the night, discussing in details the pros and cons of spending a night with a stranger.
He is her best friend.
And yet, tonight is different.
She had been his accomplice up till this moment.
She had known that this was how the evening was going to turn out; that even though she had walked in the door with him, she would be leaving alone, like always, while he would wink at her from the door while he walked away with someone else.
And yet, she feels a slight churning of her tummy as she sees him take his typical first step.
She can’t help but notice how easily this girl melds into his shape; how easily they move in perfect unison; how perfectly her slight frame merges with his boyish outline.
After a while it becomes impossible to tell one from the other.
She feels sick.
She quietly slinks away from the crowd and the overpowering smell of lust, towards the exit.
The breeze outside feels like a hard slap across her face. She slowly starts walking home.
Later in the night, she is awoken by the message beep on her phone.
“Wild cat!” the text says.
By default she presses the reply button; then stops. She presses the back button, goes to options and deletes the message.
Then she switches the phone off, praying hard inside her head,
“Please Lord; let everything be back to normal tomorrow.”