Sauntering toward us is Diane, the last of our established film trio. Her caramel pixie hair is slicked back with star-clips, and her maroon-stained lips pull into a wide smile as she swings her legs over the bench beside Kiara.
Kiara and I met Diane in our shared screen business class, where we found she also shares a lot of our same interests in gaming, shows and movies.
“How’d you find the lecture this morning, Di?” I ask.
She scoffs, “Pfft, I was playing my little bakery game behind my laptop. I can’t wait till we get to the fun stuff.”
I laugh, because it’s true. We’re all a little impatient to get our hands on the big film cameras, and step onto those fancy film sets. Though, that’s probably not going to happen for a while.
My phone buzzes with a notification just as I’m about to push a spoonful of rice into my mouth.
Tita Lucie has sent 50 attachments
Lord - justhowmany photos did we take last night? That can wait. I’m about to turn my phone over, when a text from Lola pops up.
My skin prickles, and dread pierces my chest like a shard of ice. Lola sends another message, but this time it’s a photo.
It’s the one of Marlon and I, captured mid-laughter during our karaoke duet. My cheeks heat at the sight.
It’ssonot what it looks like.
Heat continues to course through my neck as my family members react to Lola’s message with heart and laugh emojis. I’m so upset that I’m tempted to do something drastic. Like send an angry emoji.
“Uh, Jas? Are you okay?”
Diane’s voice snaps me from my bubble of fury and that’s when I realise my eyebrows are furrowed down, tensing my entire face. I relax my expression, heaving a resigned sigh.
“No, it’s my family.”
“Is everything okay?” Kiara asks, concerned.
I open my mouth, the explanation already at the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate. Should I tell them? I mean, I’ve only known them for a week and I don’t want them to think I’m weird. Making friends was one of the things I was most nervous about when beginning film school. My high-school best friend,Cheyenne, is currently on a gap year in Vietnam with her family, and though I update her daily, I physically need more friends.Especiallyat film school.
Oh, screw it. What better way to grow even closer to a new friend than feeding them personal, excruciatingly embarrassing gossip about yourself?
“Well, okay,” I shift a little in my seat, as Kiara and Diane lean in close, “Here’s the thing, my Mum’s best friend has a son called Marlon…”
They erupt into a melody ofooo’s, but I quickly wave it off.
“Godnoit’s not like that.”
“Is he cute?” Diane asks, wiggling her brows.
“Can I see a photo of him?” Kiara interjects, leaning forward.
I groan, and unlock my phone to show them the karaoke photo of Marlon and I.
Diane raises her brows and Kiara does a low whistle.
“Oh, he’shot,’ Diane observes, quirking her brow teasingly.
Someone set me on fire, please.
“He is,” Kiara agrees.
I peer at the photo, my eyes settling on Marlon. On his brown hair, on his tall figure beside my short one.
I’ve never seen the appeal in Marlon, the one thateveryonearound me seems to see in him. Even Cheyenne told me once that she finds him good looking.
