Ugly Truths

“Beck, man, what are you doing tonight?” I pulled the
pizza out of the oven and set it on the plate. It was one
of those cheap, cardboard pizzas that everyone loved as kids.
They made a great meal for the poor, college student. A buck fifty wasn't bad for dinner, I could pair it with a nice craft beer.
“Astrid can't hang out, but I have practice with the band anyway. We have a gig coming up this weekend we’re trying to get ready for. We’re planning something different so it requires some extra practices. Later, some girl from Silver Ranch is having a party and asked us to play. Andy knows her and said she’s willing to pay about five hundred for two hours. Then we can mingle.” He sounded distracted.
“This isn't one of those twitch bitches we all hate so
much, right?” About a month ago, the cheerleaders, known
to us as the twitch bitches, tried to cause trouble for Astrid.
They were no longer a problem. Not that any of us did
anything to help Astrid. She managed to take care of herself all on her own. Damn if that wasn't sexy. Although we did have a very strongly worded conversation with her after everything calmed down. We didn't want to steal her glory, but we needed to know she wasn't going to go maverick and disappear on our asses.
“Nah, I don't think this girl really cares about anything
enough to bully anyone. Apparently, she just likes to party
and get laid. Astrid knows her actually. I picked her up from
a party there last month.”
Before I knew her. Damn him for having such a casual
friendship with her. We were friends. But it was always a
little weird given that I tutored her in school, even if it was
my idea so I could spend more time with her. Oh, and there
was the fact she walked in on me getting a blowjob.
“Cool, cool. When do you think we’ll all get together again?”
Ever since the night of the scholarship showcase, we hadn't spent any time together. Call me a pussy, but for a minute, it really seemed like we all had some kind of weird bond. I had friends at school, and I had Trinity, my sister, but these guys were different. The hockey star, the Rock star, the school nerd, and me, the starving artist. Astrid was the sun we revolved around, giving guys from different walks of life a unique connection. But there were certainly similarities. We all seemed like we had ghosts in our lives we were trying to exorcise, and we seemed stronger
when we leaned on each other. Or when Astrid leaned on us.
“I don't know. Astrid was always the common denominator,
but she's been busy with school. Her parents are apparently better, but it's been starting to slip like the old
days before she made her dad a deal.” Beck sighed heavily
into the phone. Out of all the guys, Beck and I were actually
friends before we knew Astrid. Funny how small the world is sometimes.
Wait. Where was he getting this information? Was
everyone hanging out and excluding me from their merry
fucking fest?
“How do you know that?” I tried to keep the hurt out of
my voice, but it slipped through anyway. I was an art
student. Moods were par for the course, and Beck was used to my over emotionalism by now. Given he wrote poetry he turned into songs, and mostly love songs, he suffered from the same thing on occasion.
“I called Astrid yesterday when I hadn't heard from her. I
wanted to check in. She's ignored all of my advances, but I
can at least be her friend.” He acted like he tried to pick her
up, but he was eerily shy around her.
No, not shy. He sent her platonic smiles when she was
watching, scorching looks when she wasn’t, and used any
excuse to get her to touch him. But he wasn't giving her any of his cheesy pickup lines he used on one-night stands, or making it overtly obvious he was into her. While he said he tried, he really hadn't. He probably didn't know how to act when it was a girl he had actual feelings for.
How often was he calling Astrid? We had a running chat
group I had titled “Astrid's Heroes”, but after a week or so, it fizzled out. I still went to the art room every day to see
Astrid, but our relationship was very much teacher-studentesque while I was there. It had to be, or Mr. Music wouldn't hesitate to kick me out of there, and wouldn't think twice about notifying Dan of my shenanigans. I'd rather have more time with her than nothing at all.
“How often do you call Astrid?” I prodded. If she was
taking calls from Beck, then I could call her, too.