Girls room.

What is a girl’s room? Pink, posters of hot guys on the walls, neat and tidy and clean. At least that would have been my guess if I didn’t have sisters in my previous life. Obviously, I never got along with my siblings and for the most part they were hardly even around but I did have one or maybe two memorable conversations with my sister before she left home for her dreams. I have no idea whether that worked for her, but the last time we spoke, she sounded pretty happy. No, that wasn’t it. She was… content.

Anyway, Nisa’s room looked like a drunk college student’s room. I knew because I was almost a drunk college student myself: Particularly why I wasn’t keen on trying alcohol just yet. Once you got used to the taste, your body yearned for it and I didn’t want that to happen to me again.

“Sorry you had to see this,” Nisa said. “But deal with it. I arrived rather late, and didn’t feel the need to clean up.”

Clothes here, underwear there, smell everywhere. I couldn’t even find the floor to take a step or two.

“Don’t maids usually keep rooms clean?”

She smiled then opened the blinds. Ooh, the sun was up!

“So, father broke the topic of our marriage.”

“That’s right.”

“And you came here to discuss that? I assume you haven’t given him your answer yet.”

“He said you requested the tea party. So, letting me see ‘your’ castle was a lie.”

“Not really. Just a convenient choice of words. I wanted you to come see this place.”

“Why?”

“What do you think about this place?”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s choking,” she said.

“This is a port city. You see so many things. So many people.”

“Nothing reminds you more of your broken dreams than to see other people live it.” She snorted.

Every single smile she’d shown me today, were fake. Yet, for some reason whenever the girl looked out the window, at the sea, at the ships… she smiled. And that smile didn’t seem fake.

“So, why me? Surely you can choose someone better.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I want to say I like you but-”

“But obviously you don’t.”

“Yes. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. But I do have my reasons.”

“Are you?”

“No, not really,” she snickered and took a seat on her bed, which wasn’t as unholy as the rest of the place. “Come,” she said, patting the space next to her.

I somehow made it to her and sat down. “So… why?”

“That day,” she said. “I saw you play with Micheal. I’d never seen someone laugh like that. That was genuine. That was… fun.”

“Surely not becau-”

I paused. She was about eleven. Had a good face and looked mature enough. However, she was a child. A mere child who never got to play outside. A child who wanted freedom but was born in the wrong place. In the wrong house. In the wrong family.

I felt an eerie sense of familiarity. An eerie sense of….

“Well, that wasn’t all. It’s just that, when I heard rumors about you liking me, I tried testing the waters but you clearly don’t. I wanted to make you fall for me and then use you… well, not use you like use you. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t actually.”

“I just… I’m sorry. You can decline if you’re against all this.”

“You mentioned something about disliking the church,” I whispered.

“Yes?” She stared at my eyes, obviously surprised.

Blue irises with a bit of hazel huh?

“How deep is that dislike. How far are you willing to go?”

There could be someone listening on our conversation. No, there probably was plenty who would love to listen. Precisely why I spoke so softly.

“What are you… you wish to… change the church?” She spoke so softly I could barely make out the words.

I smiled, leaned closer, millimeters away from her ear. “Let’s change the world. So, you can be free.”

She snickered, uncontrollably…. “You have a way with words.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I stood up. “We’ll talk privately when… we’re really private.”

She gave me a knowing smile and grabbed my hand. “We will.” She dragged me close, tilted me a little and planted her lips on mine. Miss, miss! Young miss! We’re kids! We can-cnan’t!

Snickering she backed off. “I saw mom do that to dad every night, they seemed so happy,” she said. “And look at you, all red.”

Somehow, I avoided all the cotton on the floor and made it to door. I wanted to say a lot of things. I wanted to rebuke her approach and even state it was wrong and all that shit. Yet- “…” I couldn’t get a single fucking word out.

It was like my heart was beating in my mouth!

The fuck. She had me. She got me good. I was not expecting a preemptive strike like that.

“See you at lunch,” She yawned and lied down, face planted on the pillow out of exhaustion. “Be a good fiancé and close the door.” She waved.

Gulping I left.

My steps were a little funny. Heart racing, face flushed, it was like I was walking on a cloud. You’re five dude, calm down. Wasn’t working. It wasn’t like I never kissed a girl. It wasn’t like I never loved anyone and… No, this is the first time, a ‘girl’ kissed you.

During middle school, back when I was the genius of the class, some girls tried to get close to me. I wasn’t looking for a relationship- that was the official excuse. In reality, I was just scared of it. I was scared of even talking to them. What if they found out what I really was? Granted, having an older sister did help mitigate some of the fears but, I was still pretty shit. It changed when I still ended up with a girl. We dated for two weeks before mom found out. I don’t think we liked each other. She was using me as a status symbol to brag, and I was probably doing the same. Pretending to be normal.

But now, this was different. Yet, it wasn’t. It was the same. We’d be using each other. We’d be… pretending.

Yet, why do I feel like this?

Why did I… not regret this?