Page 12 of Subscriber Wars

Turning back, a bright light catches my eye, stopping me. Shielding my eyes, I ease my head down and notice a set of keys dangling from Vee’s front door.

Don’t do it, Sebastian. She has your pillow.

I nod to myself, fidgeting with my bottom lip.

She does have my pillow, and while I thought she would beg me for the return of her chair this morning, she didn’t. Which, I’ll admit is slightly disappointing.

What Valentina Lambros needs is a little more incentive, and maybe a lesson in self-preservation. Just because we live in a decent neighborhood, we can’t assume we have decent neighbors.

See exhibit A, me stealing her chair and exhibit B, her stealing my pillow.

But that’s sort of what neighbors do, right? Loan each other sugar or some shit?

That’s all this is. A little bit of borrowing with a little bit of menace behind it.

With a quick look around, I sprint across the hot as fuck sidewalk, ignoring the first degree burns on the bottom of my feet and swipe the keys from her front door, slipping them into my pocket smoothly and quickly then leaping onto the grass between our houses. Vee’s side is professionally landscaped, which I’m sure her daddy paid for; whereas, mine is overgrown with a few random weeds that have sprouted flowers.

I used to pay a guy to come and cut the grass, but since my sponsored ads reduced drastically, I don’t have the kind of money I used to. I meant to buy a push mower. Instead, I was impulsive and bought a wakeboard that I’ve yet to use because I don’t have a boat. I’m a dude. We do stupid shit sometimes.

Laughing bubbles from Vee’s back door, and I hurry to my back patio, only swearing twice when I step on something prickly.

“Are you sure we don’t need the duct tape?”

I recognize that voice. Aspen Von Bremen, my nemesis’ roommate and childhood bestie. She’s the reason our neighborhood get-togethers are tense and awkward. Her brother’s roommate, Bennett, is like her personal bodyguard or party pooper. I can’t quite figure out which. All I know is Aspen is fun and Bennett is…not so much.

“I’m not duct taping my boobs, Asp. If this game gets that out of hand, I’m quitting. I’m not flashing the neighbors.”

The word, “flashing,” grabs my attention as I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, staring at a blank screen. I don’t want the traitor thinking I want to see her boobs or even imagine her wrapping tape around them, plumping them into round globes—What the fuck kind of game are they playing anyway?

“You can’t quit!” Aspen laughs. “I made a bet with my brother. If we lose, I have to clean his bathroom. Don’t ask me to take on that torture.”

“You shouldn’t have a made a bet in the first place! You know I suck at most sports.”

A grin tugs along my lips. She does suck at sports. A lot.

“Shit. I don’t have the keys to lock the deadbolt, do you?”

And that’s my cue to leave.

University CamFlix Competition Submission

Entry Number: 75

Sebastian and Valentina

First Interview Continued, or that few minutes I wanted to poison Sebastian’s water

“So you were a singer?” The producer asks, looking confused. The sofa Sebastian and I are sitting on shakes. The bastard is attempting to hold in his laughter, but the stupid pig snort he smothers with his hand only makes it feel like I’m sitting right next to Old McDonald’s idiot pig.

I narrow my eyes at Sebastian. “No, I wasn’t a singer. I—” Sebastian actually snorts, and I swear to God, I am going to key the shit out of his Jeep the minute we leave this studio. “I was practicing a song for my uncle’s birthday party. He owns a karaoke bar.”

I’m not giving him all the details. All he needs to know is that I wasn’t labeling myself as a singer. I was simply trying to practice. My family is musically inclined and well, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. It’s a little defeating to be the only one who can’t sing or play a musical instrument. And it’s that defeat that led me to this moment right here, playing freaking Bash-hole’s loving (gag) girlfriend.

I’m naked.

Well, not really. Let’s just say this bikini Aspen picked out leaves little to the imagination.

“You look fine. Stop messing with it.”

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