01 / 01
Section 1
### Chapter 1: 1 Washing Dishes
Ice cream...sugar makes me so happy , I sang in my head as I stored the half-full tub of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. With a satisfied grin on my face, I fondly gazed at the strawberry-flavored pint beside it, planning to eat that one tomorrow, or maybe later if Deen wouldn't judge me for bingeing sweets. Enough of that, I thought as I closed the fridge. Time to do the dishes. Carefully balancing the glasses on top of the plates, I carried the stack of dinnerware and utensils we used for breakfast to the sink. Dinnerware for breakfast? Should I call these 'breakfastware' instead, maybe in the morning? Whatever was the correct term, these all looked pretty expensive, and they probably were, so I didn't want to break any. Deen wouldn't care if I smashed a plate and certainly wouldn't let me pay for it, but I'd feel like an absolute moocher. Well, I was already mooching off her. And that was the reason I offered to do the dishes after each time we ate. This new routine was a complete one-eighty from when I lived alone in my condo; I used to just let the dirty dishes pile high by the sink until I was out of clean plates and was constrained by the necessity to actually do some fucking chores. I'm a pig, I know. I turned the faucet on and let the cool water flow over my hands before twisting the bronze knob to raise the temperature. Just something stupid I’d do before washing the dishes, kind of like wetting the toothbrush before brushing. This house had an automatic dishwasher behind one of the panels that lined the massive kitchen island counter, no surprises there. But I told Deen it was a waste of water to wash just a few dirty plates using it. I didn’t actually know if that was true, but I get to look helpful by doing some manual labor around here while having an environmentally conscious image. A tall shadow covered me as I waited for the water to heat up before I began washing. Deen walked barefoot around the house so I didn’t hear her sneaking close. I was about to look over my shoulders in surprise when a couple of soft but firm globules pushed against my upper back. This must be what lying on a waterbed felt like, although I hadn’t tried it. Really comfortable. If only this was an actual bed and not a freakin’ human invading my precious personal space! "Deen, I'm trying to wash the dishes here," I evenly said, letting a tinge of irritation noticeably seep through my voice. It wasn't contradictory to my face for her because she was well aware I hated any form of skinship. From all the hugging earlier after my emotional revelation that I was Blanchette, I'd say she already maxed her daily quota on clinginess. "I just noticed you look so happy." Since she was a head taller than me, Deen had to bend down to nestle her chin above my shoulders. Golden strands of her unkempt morning hair caressed my neck. "I was just wondering why. Care to share?" "It's because of the ice cream, okay? Pretty normal to be happy with ice cream." "Yeah, I guess so." She wasn't leaving. “I’m glad I bought them for you.” "There, you have your answer. Shoo!” “Eh? So harsh.” “I thought your schedule after Sunday breakfast was to study for the entire morning?" I tested the water with my hands. Feeling it was hot enough, I started cleaning off the sticky scraps with the water. "I already studied for Monday," she said. "And all my classes for Tuesday and Wednesday have been canceled because of yesterday's Adumbrae attack. I don't have anything to do, so I decided to be here with my best friend." She moved closer—she was already sticking to me, so that really meant pressing her body more against mine. "Cut that out,” I snapped at her. “I know what you're doing.” This reminded me of when I first moved to this city and had no idea how jampacked trains were during peak hours; I ended up trapped in the middle of a horde and had a hard time getting out of the carriage because I was tiny. "Hmm?" she coyly purred. "What am I doing?" "You're teasing me." “I’m not.” “Yes, you are.” “No, I’m not.” “I’m going to throw water at you if you don’t scoot off.” Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. “Scary Erind,” she said with a giggle, taking a step away from me. The squishy pressure on my shoulder blades eased. But she was still quite close that her breasts lightly brushed against my back each time she inhaled. "Sorry for acting like this.” Her tone changed into a serious one. “I'm just relieved you didn't die yesterday. Hearing everything you've been through...I just can't imagine the pain and suffer—um, sorry. I'm sure you don't want to relive your awful experiences." "There's no need to tip-toe around me," I mumbled. I held a wet pink sponge under the soap dispenser attached to the wall. It automatically squirted green dishwashing liquid. I gave the sponge a couple of good squeezes to lather it up. "I'm not as fragile as you think. But...but I do appreciate the thought." "I assumed you'd find it comforting if I stayed with you." Her fingers subtly crawled on my left hip. "So you'll know you have someone to rely on even if you're, um..." She hesitated using the word 'Adumbrae'. It would've been a powerful emotional moment if she wasn't tapping my side like she was playing the piano, just pressing light enough that I wouldn't get tickled. Dratted Mother Core, I really wanted to elbow her. What was her Guardian Angel doing? Was it not warning her to cut this shit out to avoid getting her arms broken? Or perhaps in all the possible futures it saw, I was able to control myself and stuck to my face? If it did, then it was something to be proud of. I still wanted to drive Deen away without resorting to violence. "Deen, if you continue this unapproved touchy-feeliness, I'm really going to be forced to throw water on you. I’m serious!" "Oh, come on." She leaned forward so she could look at the side of my face. A whiff of her candy-scented soap or maybe shampoo momentarily distracted me with thoughts of eating more sweets. She gave me an obviously fake hurt pout, sticking out her soft dewy lips as she sulked. "I wasn't tickling you or anything." "Yes, you are," I said as I lathered the last piece of dinnerware... breakfastware . Just going to rinse these off and I was going to escape to my room. "Real tickling is something like this." "Something like wha—? Fu-Yaaah!!" A wisp of cool air licked my left side as Deen lifted my shirt and playfully scratched my skin with her nails. My reaction was anything but playful. My muscles spasmed in repulsion, and a shiver so strong she should've felt it ran through my body. I instinctively lashed out with my arm. "Woah!" Deen ducked under it and retreated as she laughed. "So that was what Gabe was warning me about." "Yet you still did it," I hissed, glaring at her with furious eyes. I filled a glass with water. "Sorry. For real this time, I'm going to stop. I didn't know you were really going to get angry. Um, what is that?" "Like I said, I'm going to throw water at you." "Erind, don't get angry, okay?" Deen held her hands up in surrender. "I'm going to behave now." But that didn't stop me. I tossed the water in the glass at her. And...she didn't evade. It splashed across her chest, thoroughly soaking her shirt. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" I blurted out in genuine surprise. “I thought your Guardian Angel was going to tell you to move aside!" "It didn't," Deen said, her eyes wide in shock from I wasn't sure what—from her Guardian Angel not telling her anything or that I actually followed through with my threat. "For reals? You're lying. If you're not, then I'm super-duper sorry. Um, I didn't mean to..." I approached her with one hand holding an empty glass and the other the sponge. I’m such a dumbass. What was I going to do? Wipe her down with a sponge? "Towel, towel," I muttered, looking around for something to dry her with. "Don't fret about it. It's no big deal." Holding the hem of her pink shirt emblazoned with the Eloyce University logo, she stretched it out and flapped it up and down in an attempt to dry it. That didn't do anything because the wet shirt tightly clung to the upper part of her body. “My gosh, it’s getting cold from the air-conditioning.” It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, but then again, neither was I. We were both inside the house and had no plans to go out this lazy Sunday so we didn't want to get caged. It was almost mesmerizing to see how the wet shirt wrapped around one of her breasts like those fruits in the grocery vacuum sealed with plastic wrap. I had no idea why that imagery popped into my mind. Actually, this reminded me more of water balloons. Societal pressures forced pretty little kid me to attend a stupid pool party I was invited to, and a dozen little shits were throwing water balloons at each other there. A particularly large balloon—it was probably also colored pink—hit me right on my nose. Not only did it hurt a lot, but it also didn't explode on impact and just knocked me down to the ground. Even though I was only a child, I knew it was bad to stab other children, so I didn't. Though I hated water balloons since then. Would it also hurt if I'd get slapped by Deen's bre—? "Earth to Erind," said Deen as she snapped her fingers. "You look like you're thinking deeply about something." "Just planning how to outsmart your Guardian Angel so I can dump a bucket of water on you next time." Of course, I wasn’t going to tell her what was really on my mind. "Wow, you're such a bully." "You started it,” I huffed. “Anyway, you should go and change or you might get a cold." "What are you talking about? I won't get sick from wet boobs. Can we even get sick?" "I dunno." I shrugged with an unsure tilt of my head. "I got a headache last time, so probably? Just go and change already or I'll splash you again." "Yes, mom!" She stuck out her tongue as she threw my usual joke back at me. "Jeez," I groaned as she finally left me alone. "Now, where's the mop?
--------------------------------------------------
### Chapter 2: 2 Cotton Candy
The Sunday Night news didn't have anything about a giant werewolf rampaging in the downtown area of La Esperanza. Just a boring marathon of various government officials—from the president, some BID people, the governor, down to our mayor—outlining their plans for aid and promising that this string of Adumbrae incidents wouldn't happen again. Like, how are they going to do that? Normally, I didn't want to see myself in videos or pictures. There was nothing much to see anyway. And I felt that leaving visual records of various faces I had for different people—the outgoing cheerleader in high school, the fiery debater in college, the timid girl in law school—might trip me up someday and cause contradictions and unwanted constraints for future faces. But what I did want to see was my transformed self kicking ass. Reginus' video of my fight at Serenade Bazaar versus snake mutant buddy should be floating somewhere out there on the internet. Authorities did try to delete it, but as they say, 'once on the internet, always on the internet.' I looked pretty fucking cool in that video; I'd imagine my giant werewolf form would be way cooler. Unfortunately, not even a short clip was available. Actually, I would've been satisfied if someone took just a blurry picture of me as I leaped from building to building. "No mention of me at all, huh?" I said as I flipped through other news stations. I kept on pressing the up button on the remote in frustration until I reached the movie channels. A woman was hollering on the screen, comforted by her female friends, because her fiancé cheated on her with another woman a week before their wedding. Very messy, indeed. I loved drama and I also loved watching movies, but I just couldn't get into watching ones like these for some reason. Perhaps I could only enjoy drama if I was the one who caused it. Immersion and all that. "I didn't know you watch romance movies." Deen walked out of the hallway and into the living room. The wailing lady on TV drowned any hint of Deen’s bare feet walking. She was starting to become like her sister, roaming around the house like a silent ghost. My gorgeous—a fact, not my own opinion—blonde-haired ' best friend ', heavy quotations on the best friend part, looked immaculate even in casual home wear. She still hadn't combed her bed hair from this morning, but instead of it bringing down her goddess image to a human level, her messy hair looked like it was styled for an avante garde fashion show. It inexplicably irked me a bit. Changing out of her clothes I splashed earlier, she had donned a matching lavender tank top and shorts that accentuated her figure and showed off the milky skin of her arms and legs. Patches of faded color on her outfit made me somehow relieved that yes, Amber Deen Leska did wear old clothes—or those were just some new trendy design I wasn't aware of. Fuck, I should've just stayed in my room to watch TV , I cursed in my head. But the TV in my room was angled sideways to be in view from the study table, not the bed. I didn't want to sit on hardwood for hours; I wanted soft cushions. "It doesn't look like there's much romance going on here," I said, pointing the remote at the lead actress trying to throw herself off the balcony in grief. "And I was just channel surfing and got surprised by all the yelling." Deen stood behind me and bent down, resting her chin on her palms with her elbows resting on top of the sofa's backrest. "I'm not a fan of romance either. I've seen a lot of those with my sister already. Each guy she dates could practically be one movie, a whole range of sub-genres to choose from." "So what do you want to watch?" I said, checking the other movie channels. "Not sure if there's anything good on." "Why are you asking me?" "You are gonna stay and tease me, aren't you? Might as well pick a show you like if you're going to hang around. I don't have anything particular I want to watch in mind." "Such blatantly false accusations!" she loudly declared in an obviously fake offended tone. "I come in peace to visit Erind Hartwell! My intentions are pure." Her voice began to crack as she droned on, struggling to keep her giggles down. I rolled my eyes and just ignored her speech. "How about this? Fashion Channel. Do you watch this?" "Wow, somehow I feel like you're stereotyping me." "Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to." "Kidding, I do follow 'Fashionista Empire'." She stuck her tongue at my frowning face. "I was watching it in my room when I thought to check up on you. And here you are!" If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. "You're awfully energetic tonight." "Just happy. Happy that you're safe. Happy that you're here, somewhere I can see and under the protection of my Guardian Angel." Her upbeat voice suddenly became somber, her voice quieter as if she was talking more to herself than me. Her expression turned cold, her narrowed eyes glared intensely at the TV like she could burn holes through it with her sight. "I shouldn't have let you go back to your condominium. If only I stopped you that time. If only I didn't invite you to lunch at Sanders—" "Deen!" I said, sort of weirded out with her trance-like state. "What's wrong with you? I'm not blaming you for anything, okay?" But I'll blame you someday if I’d need to manipulate you. "I, uh, yeah. Was just thinking about…stuff." She shook her head to clear her thoughts, her golden locks slapping my face, some strands of hair even getting in my mouth. "I should just focus on the now. What's important—" "Blergh!" I spat out her hair. "Sorry for ruining your emotional moment, but don't feed me any part of you. It's already a challenge having you close to me. I don't want you in me." She stared at me with wide eyes, her gray irises looking creepy. "Phrasing is something you should work on. But don't worry. I'll keep myself outside you if that's what you want, whatever that's supposed to mean. I'm perfectly fine with this." She bent lower so she could rub her cheeks against mine. I tried to lean away from her, but she held my shoulders in place and succeeded with what she wanted to do. "You're like a cat aggressively avoiding head pats." I had read the phrase 'smooth as silk' used to describe skin in many books. Sure, silk was smooth and soft, but human skin was a different thing altogether, right? It was only when I had rubbed cheeks with Deen—we had done it a few times by now; not voluntary on my part at all—that I could say I had finally understood what the expression meant, and that it should be used to describe her. Was it genetics? Her myriad of expensive beauty products? Her skin felt like she was almost cheating on life in some way. It made me a bit conscious of myself, wondering if my cheek was oily or my skin was dry. I did use lotions and those crap, but nothing like a full-blown skincare regimen that someone like, I dunno, a famous actress would have. Maybe I could ask for her advice? I wasn't big on appearances; it wasn't like I could become the next Ms. USA or something. But having perfectly moisturized and bouncy skin felt like something I could aim for. Just girly things. Deen gradually increased our cheeks' rubbing speed that I feared she might cause a fire from the friction like rubbing stones in those survival movies. Okay, I was just exaggerating, but it didn't seem like she planned to stop anytime soon. I gritted my teeth in annoyance, then hastily unclenched my jaws. Did she feel my muscles tense? Or my teeth grind against each other? It might encourage her to tease me more if she knew how irritated I was. What could I say to get her off of me? "Your skin feels nice," I accidentally blurted out my thoughts. Fuckity fucking hell , I didn't mean to say that. But it somehow worked because she stopped what she was doing and looked at me with a raised brow. "Uh, I mean, what products are you using?" I sniffed her. "Like something sweet, I think. Cotton candy scent or something?" "Woah, don't smell me!" She pulled away, standing up straight behind the sofa. "Why not?" I asked, turning around to look at her. "Because I haven't taken a bath the whole day. If I knew you were going to sniff me, I would've." "You're lying..." I began to say, then I noticed her furiously blushing cheeks and a genuine frown on her face. "Seriously? I usually shower after we eat breakfast." "Yeah! Why would I lie about something like that?" She tightly pressed her lips together, their pink color matching her cheeks, and glared at me as if I had insulted entire generations of the Leska bloodline. "We weren't going out today," she said with an aggrieved huff, "so why would I shower? I just wanted to laze around all day." She raised her arm and sniffed herself. "I don't smell bad, do I?" "No, you don't," I said, trying to comfort her. The truth was that she had the scent of a baby. Not an actual baby—those little gremlins just pee and poop and drool nonstop. I meant the ones in those commercials for baby powder or diapers or something. Kind of like how a burger in the ads looked like a model compared to what you'd actually get when you buy it. But, of course, I wasn't to tell Deen that. I settled for, "You smell nice. Reminds me of candy. That's why I thought it was your soap or shampoo or something because I also noticed that scent this morning.” “This morning?” “Maybe it's from when you took a bath yesterday after we came back home from city hall." "Uhm, I guess…" She put her hands on her hips. "But don't smell me again. Thank god there's the air conditioning, and I wasn't sweating. Just sniffing me out of nowhere. What the hell?" Did I finally find Deen's weakness? Could this be the way to shoo her away? I grinned at her. "I haven't heard you say 'what the hell' before...I think? I would've remembered if you did." "Is there anything wrong if I say 'what the hell?’” “Nothing,” I said, giggling. Next time, I was going to try to bully her back by smelling her— hmm, there’s something wrong with that sentence. “So, are you going to watch this show, or what?” She leaped over the sofa and landed beside me. “You’ll love ‘Fashionista Empire’, I swear.”
--------------------------------------------------