The Bubble Bath

I was very decadent this evening.

I skipped choir practice and instead took a bubble bath.

I turned off all the lights in the bathroom and lit three fat candles. Then I filled the tub with water so hot it scorched my skin. (No, I'm not THAT masochistic... I had to let some of it out and replace it with cooler water.) While I was running the bath, I talked to Sunshine on the phone. The bath was teeming with vanilla scented bubbles, the white foam growing more and more massive as I sat at the edge of the tub. Before climbing in, I brought my stereo into the bathroom and hooked it up with a CD sent to me by Mark Reed. It's an awesome mix and I thank him profusely! (He titled his mix for me "Quizteam Aquilera." I'd type out all the songs, but I'm a little wiped right now.)

The water felt good against my skin. The flickering candles cast strange shadows on the wall, quivering to the music. I topped it all off with a freshly chilled bottle of pink champagne. I lay there in the hot bath, chugging from the cold bottle. (My only regret is that I drank the entire bottle and all it did was give me a slight buzz that faded after about 30 minutes). All in all, it was supremely relaxing. But then there was Narc. Yes... my mind started to wander to the places to which you'd expect one's mind to wander while in the bathtub.

I hate him and miss him at the same time. So, I missed him. And wanted him.

I could see him standing above me. (No, Hyde! Don't let this happen!) I slid under the water. I held my breath and let myself get dizzy. I looked up in my mind's eye. He was still there. Was that a smirk on his face? His face never looks like that in real life. My fingers and feet turned to prunes. It was time to emerge, but I was sad to climb out. I opened my eyes. Narc faded into the shower head and the ceiling. The orange candlelight cast a reddish shadow against the tile. His red hair. Mr. Rochester stared at me curiously. I switched on the lights. My moment was over.

After the bath, I blow-dried my hair, watched some Law & Order and put on lipstick (I don't know why, I just wanted to be in lipstick). While preening in front of the mirror, I got a text from Double-T. (If you recall, I have thus far massively blown him off. Hmm... It smacks of a little "she's just not that into you.") But his contact this evening launched a strange and somewhat awkward text exchange. It was as follows:

Double-T: Hey, Hyde...hope all is well. Free for drinks sometime soon-ish?

(Hyde thinks: Wow! This guy must really like me if he's trying again after I've blown him off. Well, Narc seems to think I'm worthless, so I may as well give this one another chance.)

Hyde: Hi! Sorry I disappeared! Just life-chaos at the moment. Maybe Sat? What are your plans?

Double-T: Nothing set in stone. Cheers maybe?

(Hyde thinks: Cheers? Why is he so set on hanging out there all the time? Does he think he's more likely to get me in bed if we're less than a block away from my house? Whatever... I do like Cheers, so I guess it's okay. It's my home turf.)

Hyde: Cheers is always good for me! :)

Double-T: Okay, holla at ya boy saturday to confirm life is drama-free enough to hang.

(Hyde thinks: What the fuck? Who do you think you are? The Stallion? No... scrap that. He wouldn't even say that. This guy is just bizarre. A bit of a dork.)

Hyde: Will do!

Double-T: --Sorry about the holla bit--too much flava flav lately!

(Hyde thinks: Well, okay... At least he knows he sounded strange. I guess he was trying to be funny and it didn't play well with me. I bet he feels stupid now, poor guy.)

Hyde: Why is that?

Double-T: Just started watching while folding socks and the phrase stuck in my head. Plus I always crack myself up trying to sound hiphop.

(Hyde thinks: Okay, time to just make the date and end this.)

Hyde: Well, I guess I'll have to hear your impression live for the full effect. Talk to you soon...

And that was that.

Suddenly, I'm not thinking of Double-T at all, but again (and ALWAYS!) of Narc. And the more I think about it, the more I hate Narc. (But I love him! Fuck! I love him! I hate him!)

This is utter agony. At least I shaved my legs today so they feel really nice...silky. I get a lot of pleasure from that. And I have lipstick on. A deep pink. Bruised. It's the little things. Small consolations for a girl. But it counts. It all counts.

Time to go before writing makes me melancholy and pensive.
Hope you're all having a decent night!

:)

-h-

(PS: Mother doesn't like me playing Beethoven. She says I'm peevish afterwards.

Naturally, one would be stirred up.)