Inferno

ten | the blast from past

The group of strangers, at least to me, gather at our table to fill the sudden silence. "You're in Spain, and didn't even tell us?" The guy with faded green eyes, tousled black hair, drags Chase out of the booth, proper man hugging him while chuckling.

"So you'd been planning to avoid us, or what?" One of the two girls, dressed in an oversized pink tee and fringed denim shorts, glares at him.

"Maybe, but that obviously didn't work out for me, stalker," he envelops her in for a side hug and simply fist bumps the other two guys on the side. He greets everyone, enthusiasm bursting in the light punches and inside jokes, exempting the brunette in the corner, who barely passes a  pinched smile.

History doesn't suffice it. "Introduce us to your friend at least, douche. I'm sorry for his manners, the guy just doesn't understand proper behaviour," the bubbly one of the girls, says.

"Save the compliments, Joey," he sneers, earning an equally snarky grin out of her. "Lena, this is Joey, the loud mouth as you've seen for yourself. That's Callum with the electrocuted hair, Peter in his signature leather jacket from ten years ago, and Gus, who's already a little tipsy. I've always told you to go light on  cassameda, brother. Anything more than two shots is one too many with that thing."

Pushing back streaks of amber blonde hair off his head, Gus nods with a lazy smile. "And that's Marianna," pointing to the walking, flossed midriff working mystery woman, his voice drops down by many decibels. She only waves at me, an unsaid awkwardness settling between us. "Hello," I gather them all in, each one seeming the same with confidence oozing off their aura, and yet so different than the other.

Our burgers arrive, squishing past the circle at our table as the waitress lays them in front of us, and they sit all tempting. A look at Chase–uncomfortably shifting his gaze between his friends and me and back to the food, I suggest what's he meaning to say. "Join us," I mutter, immediately looking at their faces lighten up, all of them nodding at each other and settling in the booth.

Squirming to make space, I don't realise Chase is right beside me and for a moment our hands touch. The withdrawal is faster than what it'd be if there were actual shocks firing off of our bodies. We haven't really talked about that night in Amsterdam, burying it deep down the banter and fights and fake identities. But the unresolved tension is now coming up in paces, and I'm not ready to embrace it.

"So Leia, where'd you meet this goofball?" Callum asks, his Australian accent firmer this time around.

"It's quite a complicated story, but to put it short, I met him on my trip to Barcelona at an airport."

It sounds just as unbelievable no matter how many times I narrate it, the turn of events still rocking me a little every now and then. "Let me guess, you saw him get caught at the security check with a Pinot Noir. Or two, if there'd been a loss for UC Amsterdam the other day."

I laugh a little, but it dies down soon when Chase's doesn't add up. "Funny, but still a poor jab, dude," he goes on to slug back the Diet Coke sitting in front of him, while Calum tilts his neck, his subtle eye roll unmissable from my angle. 

The sudden change in air is taken care of by Joey, looking as though she'd predicted something of this sort to happen. "I don't know what he told you, Leia, but you can't tolerate this one for more than a week straight. We went to college together, and there wasn't a day when he didn't lock us out of our dorm rooms. I mean, how did you lose the key and the spare everyday?"

"It wasn't my fault, the physics professor kept confiscating my bag," he pouts, and a series of scoffs follow suit.

"Because you brought hash to his class, stolen off of me during the night," Marianna shrugs, stiffening when abrupt silence greets her words. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she slumps back and remnants of the past between Chase and her, write themselves on her flushed face.