Page 25 of Aftershock

My face lit up as I smiled unintentionally while looking at her. Lexi sat across from me with her arms and legs crossed. She caught me mid-stare, and the corners of her lips flicked upwards. I shifted my gaze abruptly. For most of the time that we’d been stuck together, I had probably been eye-fucking her like 90% it.

Wait…how long have we been in here?

I picked up my phone and pressed down on the side to unlock the screen.

10:16 a.m.

“You know, being trapped in a bathroom with Lexi Harlow has made me realize that there's something I would like to do with you before we get out of here,” I said while still looking down at my phone.

“And what would that be?” I opened my mouth to answer before she quickly cut me off. “Please, god, don't make me sign your foot or design a tattoo for you,” she begged.

The flat expression I had held earlier was replaced with one of uncontrollable laughter. I clutched my stomach as the pain radiated in my abdomen. I doubled over and cackled like a hyena while hitting my hand against the floor repeatedly.

“No way people ask you to sign their feet!”

“Oh, you’d be surprised…” she trailed off. “This one girl who was waiting in line at a meet and greet did something like that. When she got to the front, she took off her socks and shoes, then forced me to look at her bare feet,” Lexi frowned in disgust. “But it gets worse. Then she stuck a pen between her toes while shoving it in my face so that I could take it and sign her foot.”

“What the hell?” I screamed while crinkling my nose. “There's no way someone would do that! It sounds like something straight out of a horror movie!”

“Ew, a horror movie about feet?” Lexi joked. “What kind of movies are you watching with that weird fetish of yours?”

“Nope,” I shook my head violently, causing my hair to fly in every direction. “Nope, nope, nope. Please do not force your kinks on me.”

“Ha, yeah, right! More like my PTSD. I wouldn’t dream of watching a movie about feet!”

“Not even the one with the dancing penguins, ‘Happy Feet?’” I asked.

“Nope, not even that one.”

“Yeah, I watch True Crime and even that story is a bit much for me.”

“You mean like Jeffrey Dahmer and shit?”

I nodded. “More or less.”

“Must be why you like me so much, seeing as how you called me insane earlier. You have a thing for freaks?” She asked in a teasing manner.

“Oh, fuck no!” I belted out. “And if you think you’re on the same level as Jeffrey Dahmer, then I don’t think you know anything about what he did.”

“You’re the one who called me insane earlier.”

“Not serial killer-level insane,” I mumbled, pouting slightly. “Honestly, when I first came in here and saw you hiding your face, combined with the fact that two large men were guarding the door, I thought you were in trouble,” I confessed. “Maybe I watch true crime documentaries a bit too much.”

Raising her eyebrows, she questioned, “So, you're saying I shouldn’t watch True Crime?”

“Oh,” I shook my head. “No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying you should definitely watch it!” She smiled at my enthusiasm. “But you have to start with the basics first, so Jeffrey Dahmer or something along those lines,” I suggested. “Then you can dive into something more obscure, like the one about the girl who stabbed a celebrity using a pen she stuck in between her toes.”

Expecting her to roll her eyes, I was surprised when she continued on with the joke. “I’ve actually heard of that last one you mentioned. Yeah, that was a tragic story,” she laughed. “I think that is where the bulk of her trauma comes from. Certainly not her father's death or her suicide attempt.”

A smile grew on my face. “But really, though, did someone try to hand you a pen with their toes and ask you to sign their foot? Are you making this up?”

“Sadly, I’m not,” she shivered at the thought. “The image of her foot is burned into my brain now.”

“Okay, well, in comparison, my request won’t be so bad then.” She glared at me, expecting the worst. “Can I sign your foot?” She jabbed me with her elbow, causing me to let out a small yelp. I rubbed my ribs before adding, “Kidding! I was just kidding, I swear! I was just going to ask if you would be willing to watch an episode of Friends with me.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed with a flick of the wrist. “I can do that, no problem.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed while pumping my fist into the air.

---