Little white lies

Matthew Jones

When I opened my eyes that morning, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored ceiling and fragments of last night invaded my mind, causing a smile to appear on my lips.

I look like an idiot.

A fucking idiot with a cold.

Fuck! What a pain I am feeling right now.

My head feels like it will explode at any moment, my throat is scratchier than a house full of cats, and my whole body aches. It feels like a path of garbage has passed over me ten times.

But if I could repeat last night, I would certainly go through it all again.

I turn my face to the side of the bed and am surprised to find it empty.

Last night, after all we had done, I remember carrying Anastasia in my arms to the bed because she had simply fallen asleep on me. However, as soon as I put her on the mattress, she grumbled that it was cold and wanted me to stay there. And that's what I did, so I'm sure the whole thing was not a dream.

Where is she anyway?

I pulled the thick quilt away from me, which only covered my hips, and stood up. The act forced me to sit down on the mattress again, because of the absurd headache that hit me. It took me a few moments to take a deep breath and pull myself together before I could stand up again.

Damn cold.

I dragged my slender body into the living room, while scratching my eyes, and eventually found Anastasia. She was sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee, and already looked ready to leave. As soon as she noticed my presence, our gazes met.

“Morning.” She said, softly.

“Good morning.” I ended up smiling.

She smiled minimally and faced the coffee cup in her hands again.

“You're up early. Sleep well?” I commented, analyzing her facial expression, which looked a little different.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” She said in a sigh. “I can't sleep very well when I'm away from home.” She smiled that way again and looked away for a moment, before she remembered something and said. “What are we going to do about the credentials?”

“Well, we can go back there and see if we can get them. If not…” I shrug, also not knowing what we can do to get out of this jam.

“I hope Johnny won't be upset…” She said simply and I nodded.

“Well, shall we have coffee?” I suggested, smiling. “There's a coffee shop near the gas station I went to last night and…”

“No, thanks.” She denied. “I'm already having that coffee and I think that's all I need at the moment.” She gave a corner smile and I think, because of the look on my face, justified herself even more. “My stomach didn't wake up very well today.”

“I see.” I nodded, putting my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Shall we go, then? We stop by that coffee shop, I eat, and then we make our way to the credentials place. Whether we get them or not, we go back, pack up, and leave back for Sturgis.”

“Actually, I've already packed everything that's mine.” Anastasia mutters, staring at some point while scratching the back of her head.

This time I don't say anything, I just stare at her.

I don't know which bug bit her during the night, but I say with conviction that the Anastasia of today is not the same as yesterday. It's almost as if they are two completely different people, and this bothers me a little.

“I'm going to take a shower.” I announced and simply turned my back on her.

Okay, I'm not a melancholy idiot who says I love you after a sex and gives breakfast in bed the next day. After all, yesterday wasn't even a sex! But everything has a limit, right? I don't know what Anastasia's deal is, but she's acting crazy. If she is embarrassed, just say so. If she thinks it was a mistake, just say so. For God's sake, just say it! I don't have a crystal ball to guess what is going on in that head.

***

“ No, no, no! What a damn!” Steph squirmed, pausing the song for the fifth time in a row. “What's wrong with you two?”

“I wonder the same thing.” I mumble so that no one hears and walk over to my water bottle, which is in the corner of the room.

Three days.

Today marks three days since Johnny sent Anastasia and me in search of the damn credentials that were all this time in an envelope, along with all the group's championship registration paperwork. Unbelievably, Johnny couldn't remember ever having picked them up… What a joke.

“You guys are completely out of sync!” She shakes her head in denial. “Been sneaking drinks, have you?” She inquires, her eyes narrowing. “Because that's the only plausible justification for you not being well.” He laughed, breathily. “You don't even look like the same ones from last week!” She said, pulling her own hair back as she walked from side to side, apprehensive.

I would love to reply that, no, we're not the same as last week because Miss Maturity, over there, can't handle sex. At least that's the conclusion I came to over the days as Anastasia made up a million excuses to avoid being with or near me.

And, best of all: I tried to talk to her. Countless times, by the way. But she always said it was okay or that she needed to do something, so she didn't have time to talk.

“Calm down, Steph. They must be tired.” Commented Johnny, visibly worried. “Here's the thing: let's get some rest.” He said, looking at us steadily. “I don't think you guys have recovered yet from the rain you got three days ago due to credentials, so let's all go home, take a few days off, and then we'll try again, okay?”

Anastasia nodded and looked like a child when her parents fight with her, head down, as if carrying a giant guilt on her shoulders. Steph, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and stomped stiffly out of the practice room.

You know, I understand her.

We are only a few days away from the championship, and today's rehearsal was only to check that there are no loose ends in the choreography. When Steph saw that we just aren't “flowing with the music”, I think she might have been nervous that we might end up in a worse place on the big day…

“I guess I'd better go talk to her.” Johnny said in a sigh and went after Steph with the aid of his crutches.

As soon as we were alone, Anastasia let out a long, loud sigh; she rubbed her hands over her face and, to my eye, looked frustrated about something.

As she turned to go toward her things, our gazes met. Or rather, her gaze met mine, because I haven't taken my eyes off her since we started dancing.

“I'm going to ask you one more time: what's the problem?” I asked the same question I've been asking for the past few days. “And, it doesn't even help to say none, because even Steph and Johnny figured it out.”

“Don't annoy me today, please.” She asked and looked tired of that subject.

“It was because of what we did at the Motel, right?” This is the first time I've talked about what happened with Anastasia and just from the way her body reacts, I know it's exactly about that. It always has been.

“Of course not!” She laughs breathily and her tone of voice is odd. “I'm just tired. That's all.” She says as if it's the obvious, as she walks to her purse in the corner of the room.

“Listen, Anastasia, that was the last time I gave you the chance to tell the truth, okay?” I roll my eyes. “But, just know that I know you enjoyed that and did it not because of alcohol guilt. You wanted it as much as I did.” I laughed blown when she cast those wide eyes of hers at me. “I don't know what the problem is with admitting it, but if you want to pretend that night never happened, great. It didn't happen and that's the end of it. Let's not screw up the championship. They don't deserve it.”

I said all I had to say and as Anastasia remained motionless, staring at me, I dismissed the matter and left the room.

If she wants to keep fooling herself, then I'll leave her with her little white lies.