Exotic

~ so we meet again ~

It was a beautiful day. I'm talking blue skies, soft breeze, full sun. It was almost encouraging. Aaron pulled into his usual space, in an already crowded parking lot. I hadn't really considered the semantics of my plan; I hadn't exactly planned to get away with defacing the school, but my actions going uninterrupted would be harder with a crowd. I shook the can with vigour, jaw set in a determined line.

"What's the game plan here?" Aaron pocketed his car keys with a sigh. "I suppose you would like some backup?"

"I refuse to tarnish your good name with my shenanigans," I matched his pace as we walked up the stairs to the school entry together. "Now's your chance. I can do this myself."

Aaron gave me a sideways glare that took me aback. "We both know that isn't happening."

"Right," I tried not to sound as if I'd expected that response. "Well. You can give me a boost up."

"Lead the way."

The ascent up Truman Senior High Schools' infamous seventy steps felt particularly laborious that morning. After four and a half years of climbing them at least twice a day, I'd thought I'd gotten used to the climb. The one thing all Truman students shared were their exceptional calves, courtesy of that architectural nightmare. But by the time I'd reached the top of them, mine were on fire.

"Here?" Aaron asked, gesturing just above the door to a tempting overhang of white brick. Anything written across it would be unmissable to anyone passing through them. The school motto used to be displayed there until the council of parents complained that we needed a more inspiring phrase than 'All Welcome, Few Worthy' and had never gotten around to reworking it. The holes from the old lettering remained deep in the bricks.

I nodded and placed my foot in his hand where he laced his fingers. He boosted me up, level with the doorframe, so I still had to reach up. The first spray of the can gave me nothing but a large red dot, but slowly I started to form letters, however shaky.

@MORMON.VIX –

I was on my last few letters when I hear a yelp of surprise and felt Aaron's support give out, and I let out a justified scream as I fell. To his credit, Aaron did his best to catch me after realising his mistake, but only managed to put himself directly underneath me. We ended up sprawled in a pile on the pavement in a tangle of limbs.

The paint can bounced from my fingers and clattered down several steps before someone caught it under one high-heeled shoe. My heart was in my throat from my brief free-fall; I didn't register who it was until a hand reached down to pick it up, one finger decorated with a familiar tattooed circlet.

Alba held the can daintily, as if to avoid getting her fingerprints on it. Or it was just to avoid getting red paint on her impeccably tailored caramel suede jacket. "Miles? Aaron?"

I gulped and tried not to look implicitly guilty as I got to my feet, although that ship had probably long sailed. "This isn't what it looks like?"

She looked from the graffiti, half-finished, to the can, to me, to Aaron, who was still on the ground, gasping. "That's a relief. Are you alright, Aaron?"

He nodded weakly, and I was a little resentful she hadn't asked me that. I was the one who'd been dropped. Alba clip-clopped up the last few stairs, placing the can gently down at her feet, and helped Aaron to his. When we were both standing, shoulder to shoulder like guilty children, I saw her face shift from concerned counsellor slash friend, to that of a stern teacher who'd just caught two students vandalising school property.

"Goddamn it," she said primly. "All I wanted was a decent coffee before the staff room gets swamped. Now I need to detour to the principal's office. I hope you're happy."