𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐭𝐞𝐧

And you're singing
at my birthday,
and I've never seen
you smiling so big
-Phoebe Bridgers

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

February 2015,

Tenny had a friend he called Pip.

She was as big as a twig and had these perfect, round eyes. I guess her Mom up and skipped town, said she got a job down at a hospital in Jackson, but Pip wasn't buying it. Anyhow, she had the house to herself and let anybody crash there.

Tenny stayed there a lot.

There was a group of us who started to hangout there after school. We'd lay up on Pip's couch and pass around a blunt, watch old stupid movies and crack jokes. Tenny was always the loudest. He could make anybody laugh.

And his laugh was the sweetest.

He was one of those people who laughed with their whole body.

I wish he laughed more, now.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I run into Tenny on my way back to Pittman. He is fumbling with the door's buzzer when I walk up behind him. "Here," I say. "Sometimes you have to jiggle the handle before it will unlock."

He nods. "Right, thanks."

Tenny holds open the door and we walk in together, down the main hall to a fork in the road: boys on one side, girls on the other. He turns on his heels but I stop him. "Hey, did Bailey invite you to my party tonight?"

"He mentioned it."

"Are you coming?" I ask, and Tenny frowns.

"Do you want me to?"

I shrug. "If you want to, I think you should come."

"Okay," he says, but in a way that sounded unsure. "Then, I guess I'll be there."

"Good, I'll see you later, then." I smile and he gives a tilt of his chin. We part ways and I head to my room. The door is already unlocked when I get there, half-opened with music blaring. "Uh, Frankie?"

It appears that our closets have exploded. Clothes are all over the floor, all over our beds, all over everything. A mass of hair pops out from the destruction. "I'm here!"

"What the hell happened?"

She frowns, tosses a few dresses over her shoulder. "It's your birthday! I'm searching for the perfect outfit." And then she presents a hot pink mini-dress. "What do you think of this?"

"I think it looks perfect for a Polly Pocket."

"Yeah, it's overplayed, you're right. We need something unexpected."

I drop to my chair and shove a pile of tube tops off the desk. "I don't think it matters what I wear," I groan. "Besides, it's a surprise party—I shouldn't come prepared."

"Oh, that's a good point. We need something understated. Sophisticated. Sexy, but chic."

I cross my arms over the desk and lay down my head. As I have learned, it is better to let Frankie work in peace. Once she gets started on something, there is no talking her down. It is, unfortunately, one of my favorite things about her.

✩ ✩ ✩

I am tripping over the flared legs of Frankie's black pants. She insisted I wear them, as they are the perfect blend of: sophisticated, sexy, and chic. Dalton tightens his grip on my hand, leading us up the front steps of Sigma Chi.