Not Like That

"Look, no offence, alright – I just don't see you that way," she said, eyeing herself in the mirror. "We're not like that." She squinted, rubbed her temple where a headache was growing and pounding, pulled at her cheeks, pursed her mouth. It was fucking strange; she didn't recognise herself at all. She leaned back a little and stared harder, brown eyes travelling over the mocha skin, the smooth sweeps of her eyebrows, the full lips. Tilted her head to the side, and saw, right there under her jaw line, a small, purpling bruise. She put her fingertips to it, smoothing over the soft skin. It looked…almost like a hickey. No way could the idiot to her rear could have given it to her, though.

"Deny it all you like," he said from behind her on the floor where he was crouched, searching through their jeans and bags for some positive identification, and she turned her head to look at him, dropping her hand away guiltily. "I know you think I'm hot."

She crooked an eyebrow. "Oh, you think so?"

"Hey, you've got to admit. I'm a good-looking guy," he said, shrugging and dropping the backpack in his hands, standing up.

"Yeah, whatever, you're the prettiest girl at the dance," she muttered, hands resting, easy, on her hips. She flicked another glance around the room, desolate and constricted surroundings making her itch. She needed something. Air, wind, height. It was so stuffy in here she could hardly handle it. She wondered if the single, tiny window was operable. "Anything?"

"Not even a label on the bag." Then he narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking, and dropped back to his haunches, digging a cell phone out of the pocket of his discarded jeans. "You have a mobile?" he asked, glancing up at her, and she shook her head.

"Only a pager."

"When are you going to join the twenty first century?"

"I don't think you can really blame me for whatever; I don't remember it."

"Right. Still, I figure we'd have each other programmed in, what do you think?"

"Good idea." She watched as he scrolled through his mobile, teeth a white bite in the lush pink flesh of his lower lip. When he pressed a button, her pager started vibrating in her hand, riding on a series of annoying beeps. "Alec," she read off the screen, and smiled up at him.

"You're Maxie."