venus fly

It was in this moment that Marlowe was taken by the uncontrollable desire to smile, genuinely and more brighter than she already had been. The corners of her lips burned to curl upwards and snuggle into her dimpled cheeks. The small dose of ecstasy that she had taken earlier seemed to be swimming graciously through her veins and settling into her ovaries, giving them warmth.

Granola Girl, despite it’s contemptuous ring, sounded quite romantic. Marlowe imagined a girl with a golden face, who always wore a gold yarrow in her disheveled but whimsically golden hair. 

“C’mon. ‘Granola Girl’? Really?” Marlowe grinned amusingly, “cute, but I thought you were more original than that.” 

Lara watched the other woman as she started smiling like a five year old girl, how come did she take her insult as a compliment? Her voice was as dry as possible, it was pretty evident that Lara wasn’t there to compliment nor engage. Most people would just leave, they couldn’t stomach Lara and her condescending behavior but the girl insisted to stay. 

Sighing in absolute annoyance, Lara shrugged. “There’s no need for originality in this particular situation.” She stated flatly. “Are you done with this Manic Pixie Dream Girl bullshit? It’s getting boring. Just say what you wanted to say initially, I don’t have time for this.”

“Sure,” he said with a matching shrug. Lying, as far as Patrick was concerned, was just part of life. At the end of the day, who cared? He had a tendency to bullshit his way through most conversations in life and if he just happened to lie about being in a rush to cut ahead in line or pretend he didn’t smoke, then that was on whoever was dumb enough to believe him. “They’ll figure it out and either not care or move later.” Patrick definitely didn’t plan on keeping up this charade for long, because hanging out his bedroom window to smoke all winter wouldn’t be ideal. He hummed low, mulling over Lara’s scoffed question while watching her lean back against the window. “I don’t know,” he answered unhelpfully, shrugging again. “I like the noise – the feeling of having other people around.” But did he ever want to be spoken to? No way. “I’ve never actually lived alone for more than a few months at a time.”

“Moving out would be too much work,” Then again everything was too much work for Lara, she was a lazy person and on top of that, she was very unmotivated, so everything seemed like a hassle to her. “I can assure you, after years of living with six people, you end up hating that feeling.” She didn’t count Lena’s husband, because by the time Levi moved in, Lara already left for Brown. “God, that’s so strange. I can’t imagine you bonding with your roomies. I assume you barely talk to them, otherwise they sure wouldn’t stick around.”

Marlowe turned back around to face the apparently unmoved woman. She was a tough one, she had to admit to herself. The woman’s icy glare bore holes into her, and as much as Marlowe wanted to avert her gaze, it was important for her to maintain eye contact. 

“There it is,” she said finally, her features softening. Rather she would actually ever admit it or not, Marlowe has had her fair share of dealings with ‘mean girls’ — at least that was the common term for them. Marlowe; however, choose to see them in a different regard. She choose to see them as humans suffering from an inferiority complex. Therefore, she could only feel sympathy for them.

“You see, a friend once told me,” she reached out to place a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s a simple message and it comes from the heart,” she began, speaking as if she were a counselor comforting her patient, “believe in yourself,” she smiled warmly, confidently even, “… ‘cause that’s the place to start.”

Staring at the blonde as she continued to talk, Lara didn’t even blink and honestly, none of her words were making sense to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if the other woman was on crack, then again people on crack usually reacted differently. At least in her experience.

A mocking snort escaped from her lips once the blonde started speaking, she wondered what kind of bullshit she’s about to come up with, whatever her assessment was, Lara was already convinced it was nothing but a bullshit. 

Lara took a step back as soon as the woman placed her hand on her shoulder. God, was this the moment where they sing Kumbaya? “I do believe in myself and I certainly don’t need a textbook Granola Girl to tell me that.” 

“I’m practically gone half the day,” he told her, standing aside and watching as Lara successfully climbed out of the window. “Not by choice, of course, but I’ve gotta work – unlike the gifted artists of the world.” The cheeky curve of a smile started to tug at the corner of Patrick’s lips, but he turned before it was fully formed, moving towards the metal stairs that led upwards. He climbed a few steps and sat his ass down on the cold grate, lifting the cigarette to his lips. “But,” Patrick cut in, lighter spluttering on the first few flicks, “it doesn’t fuckin’ matter once the lease is signed.” Without a doubt, he’d return to his natural state of slob once he’d conned someone into living with him. For now, though, he was attempting to be on his best behavior. Patrick exhaled smoke as he glanced away from Lara, looking back with an accompanying shrug. “I just like living with people. Got used to it in college, I guess, and now it’s… kinda comforting.” 

Lara rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms against her chest. Of course Patrick didn’t miss the opportunity to announce his dislike towards art and artists. Someone could argue, get mad even but Lara simply didn’t care. That was just his opinion, he was entitled to have it even though it was a wrong one. “Right.. I forgot about your fun job.” She said sarcastically, nodding. “So you are basically lying,” With a shrug, she pointed out. They both knew Lara was the last person who could question Patrick’s challenged morals, so it was obvious that she was somewhat amused. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as he continued, she sat on the window sill. “Comforting?” She scoffed, knitting her brows together. “How?”

The one thing Marlowe disliked more than her bluff being called was being called fake. She squinted as the grin on her face – bright and cheesy – faltered away. The production of an artificial sniff and the rubbing of her nose were clear indicators that ‘disappointment’ was taking form of her features… Or so she thought. 

“How could you?” She scoffed in faux disbelief. “I mean… What can I say? I’m insulted that you would think of me in that way.

“As a feminist, I am insulted. I uplift my fellow women warriors —  I’ve never been a ‘mean girl’ in my life —  like, why would I start now? Ridiculous.” Marlowe got up to walk away. 

Maintaning her deadpan look, Lara stared at the blonde and listened. She wasn’t born yesterday, she could tell the difference a fake compliment and genuine one. After all, she was an artist, she’d heard tons of feedbacks from different people. 

“Insulted?” Her brow raised, scoffing. Her next words were the ones that made Lara roll eyes -- specifically the word feminist. “Well, I have been a mean girl,” In fact, she was still a mean girl. “It’s not that awful. Way better than being a fake ass feminist if you ask me.”

As Lara sat up, Patrick took the opportunity to stand, swiping a stray lighter from the coffee table on his way up. He ambled over to the window and flipped the latch lock, sliding up the pane with a glance back to the brunette as she followed to the fire escape. “Do I live alone?” Brown eyes widened in mock concern, his usually slouched posture straightening so he could get a look over Lara’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ve got a voyeuristic pal that never leaves his room. There is a spare.” A smirk creeped over his features and Patrick ducked down to climb out the window. Standing in the cool night air, he waited for Lara, making sure there was no caught ankle or stumble that would catapult her over the railing of the fire escape. “I’m trying to find a roommate,” he explained after a beat. “So, y’know, late spring cleaning, pretending it’s a smoke-free apartment and all that.”

Lara shrugged nonchalantly as a response. “Your roommate could’ve been elsewhere. You might not leave your house but most people do.” She pointed out dryly before she climbed out the window, her movements were a lot slower than Patrick’s of course – after all she wasn’t very familiar with the place. After years of living with six people, Lara couldn’t even fathom the idea of having a roommate. Sure, the house she grew up was massive and she barely saw her siblings, but she still didn’t want a roommate. If she got bored of being alone (which happened very rarely), she would call Tegan or Ben. “They are going to find out this is not a smoke-free apartment,” Lara started with a shrug, crossing her arms together. “Why do you want a roommate anyway?”

“What, while it wasn’t Halloween? Do tell.” James fake-gasped. Sarcasm, at this point, was his first language, and he couldn’t really help himself any more. “Fair enough. So Halloween is the time of the year for those with fetishes but not enough self esteem to express it when others aren’t doing the same.”

Lara sensed his sarcasm, after all she wasn’t a stranger to the concept, since she used it quite frequently. “Yup,” She nodded in agreement, he couldn’t sum it up any better. “People just use Halloween as an excuse to unleash their fetishes. The amount of so called sexy costumes I’ve seen tonight is ridiculous.”

A lazy shrug dragged Patrick’s shoulders up before they dropped down again. “It takes one to know one,” he agreed, not planning on arguing against his own strangeness. Even when he’d managed to fit the mold of his parents’ ideal child, he’d still had questionable quirks and habits – stuff like that stuck. “That’s too bad, though,” Patrick continued after only a second, pushing his hair back with his free hand, “because I want a cigarette and I can’t smoke inside, so you’ve gotta get up.” And, without any more ceremony than that, he bounced his knees to purposefully jostle Lara, socked feet stomping against the hardwood floor below as he tried to scoot forward.

“You are such an asshole,” Lara groaned silently as he felt his knees back on her head, finally moving so he could get up. Why didn’t he just let her do whatever she wanted like other people did? Brushing her long locks behind her ears, Lara rose up from the couch and followed him to the fire escape. “Why can’t you smoke inside anyway? You live alone.” Realizing, she wasn’t really sure if he lived alone or not, she raised her brow. “Wait, you live alone right?”

“Oh my god — they’re soo cute! What are they called?” Marlowe lied about the cute part. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was far from cute; it was repulsive — but why would she admit that?

“Is this the moment where I give you an actual answer and you make fun of me behind my back right after I leave?” Lara deadpanned, scoffing. “Aren’t you a little bit old for pulling this Regina George shit?”

“Noted.” She pressed her lips together and gave her a nod to both statements. “That’s it? Just shit? I was expecting better. I literally walked in here waiting for better insults towards my last minute costume. Anyway,” she waved it off with her hand. “Who are you murdering tonight, Bonnie?”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you,” Lara shrugged her shoulders. Addison was one of the few people she actually tolerated, so that’s why definitely didn’t mean to insult her. “I was just making an observation.” Rolling her eyes at Addison’s reference, she took a sip from her drink. “I haven’t decided yet. There are too many options, it’s hard to pick one.” Holding the champagne flute, Lara looked around before turning to Addison, “Honestly, I don’t think even an actual murder would make this party interesting.”

“Okay, so Halloween officially is the only time of the year when you can hook up with someone while wearing a costume.” James mused, despite wearing just a suit and a simple black mask over his eyes. “Think it’s the alcohol or some fucked up fetish most of us have?”

“Not really, no.” Lara responded without thinking twice. “I have had hook up with someone while wearing a costume.” But maybe that’s just Lara and her unorthodox ideas. “I am going to go with fetish option. I mean everybody have fetishes, it’s just, some of us are more upfront about them than the others.”

He shrugged right back, blinking down to Lara again while she spoke. “I didn’t say it was wrong,” Patrick clarified before reiterating his initial point, “Definitely weird, though.” But, to be fair, Lara had texted before she even decided to show up and winding up with someone laying across his legs wasn’t the oddest situation Patrick had ever found himself in. It just seemed questionable – almost out of place when he still couldn’t decide if they were friends or only two people who happened to speak on the same frequency. Again, Patrick shrugged. “I’m not bothered by it –” And if he had been, he definitely would’ve used a few different choice phrases. “If you haven’t noticed, I enjoy the strange and unusual.”

Lara frowned for a moment as he explained, she didn’t really understand Patrick’s thinking process -- which was fine because she never wanted to understand other people’s feelings or decisions, she was too self-centered for that. Still resting her head, she stared at him without saying anything. He was right, Lara was a weird individual and that was something she was quiet proud of. “Well, good then.” She started, shrugging. “Because I am not planning to move.” Lara chuckled softly. “I have noticed and I think that’s because you are strange as fuck too.”

“Is this the part where I ask who the beautiful person is behind that mask and somehow get them to buy me a drink or better yet make fun of some of the costumes around here? I know I’m dressed as a sexy cat but that’s because I had no time to come up with something better.”

“You can make fun of these stupid costumes any time you want, you really don’t need a precise moment to start it,” At least that’s what Lara did. Shrugging, she continued after taking a long sip from her wine. “Well, you look like a shit.” She stated bluntly as she adjusted her beret, though she didn’t mean to insult, she was just being honest. “

Amelia slowly stopped sketching just long enough to glance over at the girl nearby, her tone causing her curiosity to halt her work. She studied her for a moment and smiled back at her work once more. “For someone not so fond of peace, this is truly a curious place to be…” she mused, hoping not to speak too much out of turn. 

“I know, right?” Lara could see the irony, it was crystal clear. “Don’t blame me on that, it’s my friend’s decision, she wanted to meet here.” She shrugged, finally stopped looking at her phone and shifted her gaze to the blonde. “Are you an artist?”

His eyebrows lifted high, continuing to stare down at Lara. “Are you blind?” He asked. “Oblivious? Totally and completely ignorant to your own actions? – You do realize that we‘ve only met maybe a dozen times, right? … And now you’re laying on me.” Not to mention that she was ditching parties to nap and griping about how unentertaining her own chosen circle of friends were. Patrick knew that he had his own quirks and oddities as well, but Lara was in a much more obvious sphere of weirdness. He shook his head, glancing away as he plucked a cigarette from the pack. “Do you normally put your head this close to people’s dicks when you’ve just met?”

Lara still couldn’t understand his point -- was she really consumed by apathy too much that she couldn’t even comprehend what’s appropriate and what’s not. “So?” She shrugged. “You came over to my place and I came over to yours, is there some sort of level of friendship that we need to achieve so I could lay on you?” Lara shrugged again. “I was bored and I wanted to hang out with you. I don’t see anything wrong or weird with that.” Rolling her eyes, Lara didn’t bother to move her head, instead she stared into Patrick’s eyes. “We haven’t just met.” She said with her usual deadpan expression. “If you are bothered, just say it. You don’t need to give me a lecture about how human relationships work.”