Friends Forever<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I sat curled up on her felt chair, looking over the stories we were given to critique from our Creative Writing II class. Her front door was open, letting in the warm Colorado breeze that smelled of the coming hot summer, and she sat on the couch to my right. Her house was small, and the chair I sat in bordered the miniature dining room where a cabinet of alcohol sat. She liked to claim it was all her boyfriend\u2019s, but I saw her petite body down drinks that made her stumble around a moment later.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you understand what\u2019s going on in this one?\u201d She glanced up at me from the pile of papers she held in her hand. Amanda was a small girl, both in frame and height, and her red hair hinted at her chaotic, fiery nature. She balanced a pen in her hand, and sat cross-legged on her blue couch. She wore a muscle-tee to show off her non-muscled arms, and her bra showed through the slits on the side of the shirt. She smiled at me, bewilderment in her gaze. I glanced at the story I was reading and gave a curious smirk.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God, good,\u201d she huffed, setting the story on the low, long table that sat in the small living room space. \u201cI\u2019ve got no fucking clue what\u2019s happening in this one. Is he a robot?\u201d She stood up, stretching. I watched her without dropping my smirk.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou tell me, I\u2019m just as lost as you are. Should we jump to a different one?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe,\u201d she strode past me, and, not exactly trusting her, I turned in my chair to see her disappear into the kitchen. \u201cI want to make a salad. You want one?\u201d<\/p>\n
Rolling my eyes, I set my papers aside and stood. I stuck my hands in my pockets and strode across the hardwood floors, through the dining room, and turned right into the kitchen. No more than two people should ever stand in that space, and even then it was tight. I stood off to the side, my feet sticking to the plastic floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have an issue with salads,\u201d I said. She laughed, her voice high and contagious. I couldn\u2019t help but join in as she pulled fruits and veggies out of her fridge. A few weeks ago I had come over to help her clean it out, and hell, it smelled a thousand times better afterwards. Even though the lingering scent of bad milk and questionable meats wafted out of it, the baking soda was eating most of it up. Amanda set her ingredients on the rolling island and glanced at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve learned an amazing recipe from Mad Greens. You have to try it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I quirked a brow. My eyes flickered over the items she had set aside, and spotted the tomatoes, copious amounts of mixed nuts, and a few curious items that looked close to being a haven for mold. I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, c\u2019mon, don\u2019t be a prude,\u201d she shot back, moving to one of the cabinets and standing on her tiptoes to reach the bowls. She set two on the counter and looked at me. \u201cI promise it\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n
Amanda had a knack with wearing down my defenses with that single word: prude. She knew I hated it, and frequently used it to her advantage. My smile fell. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, sighed, and conceded.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine. I\u2019ll try it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Amanda giggled, her smile massive. \u201cC\u2019mere and help cut up the apples then.\u201d<\/p>\n
With a relenting smile, I stepped inside, my body strangely large in the tight space. I took the knife she handed me and proceeded to do as she instructed, helping her prepare the dish. She nudged me with her elbows and cackled when I shoved her back, causing her to stumble on her feet. As she washed the lettuce, she tilted the faucet and splashed the side of my face, howling with remorseless laughter. I locked my jaw with a grin, snatched the faucet with her and aimed it at her hair. She squealed and quickly turned the water off, stepping back a few paces. I snickered.<\/p>\n
\u201cBring it, shortie,\u201d I taunted, my face painted with joy. Amanda looked at me from under her drenched bangs.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou<\/em> are cleaning that up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike hell I am,\u201d I replied, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. \u201cYou<\/em> started it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou splashed the cabinets!\u201d She gestured to where the spray had covered them. \u201cSo you<\/em> get to clean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMmhmm.\u201d I gathered up the apples I had chopped and tossed them in the salad bowl. \u201cBut I helped you replace your toilet. So, if anything, you owe me.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda raised both her brows, glanced in the direction to the bathroom, and dramatically sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was pretty gross.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, it was nasty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s warm enough, anyway. I\u2019m sure it\u2019ll dry.\u201d She winked at me, her left eye closing half-way with the action, and tossed the salad together. She placed equal portions into our bowls, topped it with dressing, and I grabbed us forks as we slipped back into her living room.<\/p>\n \u201cI really don\u2019t want to read this one,\u201d she said, curling up on the couch. I sat beside her.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can skip it.\u201d<\/p>\n She huffed. \u201cYeah, but we\u2019ll just have to come back to it later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery true. And Barber knows when we don\u2019t read something.\u201d I shook my head. \u201cThat man can see right through you, Teddy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhatever!\u201d She yipped, shoving me. \u201cWhatever!\u201d<\/p>\n With laughter in my lungs, we ate. The flavors meshed well together, the apples giving a nice sweetness, the nuts adding a bite, and the tomatoes giving a bit of salt. The greens I had been worried about were delicious as well, serving as some bitterness in the dish. Every flavor complimented and supported each other well.<\/p>\n We did, too, for a time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Friends Forever \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I sat curled up on her felt chair, looking over the stories we were given to critique from our Creative Writing II class. Her front door was open, letting in the warm Colorado breeze that smelled of the coming hot summer, and she sat on the couch…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[283],"tags":[272,242,271,270,268,269,158,206,207,157,12,238,68,261,260,114,60,97,37],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p27tjX-gV","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1049"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1050,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049\/revisions\/1050"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1049"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1049"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/winter-publishing.com\/welcome-to-winter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1049"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}