Soft music plays in the apartment, creating a comforting atmosphere that you know for a fact would not last long. light chatter around the room, a few clinks of wine glasses, the occasional laugh.
green eyes bore into your skull as you sit down at the table, three people across from her. You feign innocence, knowing that the lack of attention you give her only makes her more irritated. She knows you can feel the intensity of her gaze. Her cheeks have a flush to them like they always did when she’d drink.
To say you didn’t notice her arm candy when you walked into the dinner would be a lie. Of course, you noticed the blonde sitting next to her, one whose eyes twinkled so innocently as Wanda toyed with her fingers. The poor girl had no knowledge of the history you two shared; she only knew that she had never seen you two speak.
Neither was your date aware. The short-haired brunette sat idly to your left, a polite smile on her face as she made passive conversation with your friends. The few of you who showed up for the birthday dinner at your friend's apartment made easy chatter amongst yourselves.
Your date presses a kiss to your temple after you crack a joke, and Wanda just about drives her knife into her plate with the amount of pressure she puts into cutting up her steak. The scrape of metal against porcelain cuts through the conversation for a split second.
The blonde, whose name you can’t be bothered to remember, eyes her from the corner of her peripheral vision. She gently takes the knife from Wanda’s hand and begins cutting her food for her.
You roll your eyes at the sight, fighting a menacing smirk. Wanda paints a forced smile as her supposed girlfriend cuts the food for her, something you know she’s never been a fan of having done for her.
In fact, Wanda insisted on having a specific way her food was prepared and cut. something this new girl was very obviously unaware of. She preferred to cut the fat from first, then creating bite size pieces to pair with her sides. something her girlfriend has apparently not learned.
Instead of acting on maturity, you swing an arm across your date’s shoulders and whisper in her ear, your fingers playing through the hairs on the nape of her neck. She smiles against your cheek, body leaning into yours.
Wanda’s fingers tighten against the stem of her glass.
The sweet nothings flow from your lips with practiced ease, words you know you meant at one point, but not for the girl you’re whispering them to.
Her brown eyes look into yours, and you have to convince yourself you’re looking into the light eyes of the girl you loved not too long ago. It becomes increasingly difficult to hold her, knowing that you can hear Wanda’s light laughter just a few feet away from you. Whether fake or not, your heart still knows it’s not with you.
You notice that both of your glasses are empty, and you offer a refill, which she accepts sweetly. Somehow, almost planned, Wanda happens to arrive in the closed-off kitchen with you away from the rest of the guests.
You smell the expensive perfume before she’s even within your line of sight. The expensive cedar fills your senses, and your chest tightens at the memory. It’s the same scent that would linger on your bedsheets after Wanda stayed the weekend with you.
“You know, for someone who really enjoyed pulling on my hair, hers is pretty short, isn’t it?” She stands a few feet away from you, a tilted head with an accusatory expression on her face.
Of course, she’d follow just to get you for a moment for herself. It comes as no surprise that she’d find any reason to get under your skin.
Your lip tugs between your teeth before you allow yourself to turn and face her, “and for someone who really loves control, you gave it up so willingly.”
Wanda’s accusatory expression turns to one of cockiness, something you enjoyed seeing after she downed a few glasses of wine, “You never complained.”
Her voice is just above a whisper, eyes taking over your body. You roll your eyes and hit her shoulder with enough force to make her hold her left arm with a pout. You let out a huff of laughter as she continues on with what she entered the kitchen to do.
“Careful,” you muse as you lean against the counter while Wanda fills the glasses of wine placed between the two of you, “your little friend might think you’re flirting with me.”
Wanda rolls her eyes and sets the wine bottle down with a bit more force than necessary, “Maybe because you keep looking over at me every two minutes to see if I’m looking at you with little Miss What’s her face.”
You scoff, pushing off the counter, “Please, you’ve been shooting daggers at me all evening like it’ll change anything.”
“You’re the one practically putting on a show, basically on her lap with the whispering, almost on the table-“
“So you were watching.”
With your arms crossed against your chest, she places the two wine glasses in your hands with a huff. You grab them from her, purposefully brushing your manicured fingers against the back of her palms with a cheeky grin. The two of you fall into a practiced rhythm, muscle memory keeping you two too close for comfort, where there shouldn’t be any left.
Wanda scoffs, as if she can’t believe you’d say such a statement like that, “You’re basically on her lap.”
“So is blondie over there.”
“She has a name.”
At that statement, you tense up. The idea of Wanda defending this new girl is enough to make your stomach twist over and over. You stay quiet, allowing Wanda to walk back over to where the guests are sitting.
Wanda watches as you stare her down in thought, and she takes it as a silent victory. She glances back to where you’re standing in the kitchen, “she kisses you too much,” she says suddenly.
“What?” Her voice pulls you out of your haze.
“The brunette,” she nods her head back to where she is sitting with your friends, “it looks too forced.”
You laugh at Wanda, “You’re unbelievable.”
Wanda only grins just before she returns to where the party is. You throw your head back in frustration, bothered at how easily both of you fall back into your usual banter. It takes you a minute before you return to your seat, green eyes following you every step of the way.
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