Page 9 of Fabricated

“Want a brownie?” Tucker asks, thrusting a plate of brownies in my face. Everyone is in the living room, me laying on one section of the thirty-person sectional. Kidding, it was only twelve.

Everyone is scattered around. Justin and Kyler on the beanbags. Branson on the couch across from mine. He sits directly across from me even though he could have literally sat anywhere else. He is still staring, still radiating broody energy all over the room, and it’s equally annoying as it is attractive.

Tori is on his couch next to Josefina. Emerald is on my couch at the far-right end, sketching. Kalisha sits on the other end of my couch, listening to music. I shrug, grabbing a brownie and taking a small bite. It’s actually good, but something is off. A taste I don’t recognize, but not bad. Plus, who wanted to hurt Tucker's feelings? Not me. Everyone takes one but when it comes to Tori, of course, she says, “No thanks, I’m on a diet.” She waves her hand, shooing it away.

Tucker looks so hurt. Can’t she see he worked hard on these?

“They’re sugar-free.” He winks at me as she smiles and grabs one.

Around thirty minutes passes, and I feel… weird. Like my body has sunk into the couch or something. I notice everyone seems fine. Except for maybe Tori who is staring at the floor, lost in her thoughts. And you know what? Justin looks off too. Everyone else? Peachy.

My eyes connects with Branson as he studies my face. Why is he always looking at me?

Branson curses. “Really, Tucker?” He glares at our wonderful brownie maker.

Tucker grins, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Why do I feel happy? I’m not a happy person,” Tori asks before she breaks into a fit of giggles that soon show a hint of pain. As if she can’t stop.

I feel my soul distance itself. As if my mind becomes solely focused on myself.

“My soul feels like it’s floating right above my body. Flying.” I try to touch my soul above my belly. And then it hits me. I could fly! “Shit,” Iwhisper, moving my arms up and down at my sides. Hoping I am flying.

“Strawberry,” Tucker whispers from beside me. When had he gotten so close? I look up at him. “You are flying.”

I grin. “Yay,” I say dreamily, smiling at the ceiling.

“Leave her alone,” Branson snaps.

“Come on, dude, she’s fine. She’s having fun, aren’t you, Strawberry?”

“So much fun,” I reply, laughing.

“Why do I even work out?” Justin asks, eating ice cream. When did he get ice cream? “I could have a dad bod and eat ice cream. A happy life.”

I giggle at him. It is funny to see anything not healthy going into his mouth. Oh, that kind of sounded dirty. I giggle at myself this time.

“God, look at them!” Josefina laughs. “They're such lightweights.”

“Let them embrace their journeys. They don’t need any bad vibes. So shut up,” Kalisha says.

Embrace our journeys? She is a hippie. Have to take them lightly.

The music turns on and “Memories” by David Guetta and Kid Cudi thumps through the speakers. The music flows through me. The lyrics reach into my soul and wrap around me, the instruments caressing my marrows. The bass makes all the molecules in my body bounce. I don’t just hear the music, I feel it. I can taste it on the tip of my tongue. Sweet and sour like a Sour Patch Kid. I rise, letting the music carry me to my feet. I sway and dance with my eyes closed. I think I am dancing alone, but the music makes me feel like I am dancing with it. Like it makes entities dance around me. Getting completely lost in the song, my body is overheating with all the energy.

“Shit, she’s going to take her clothes off.” Dante laughs as I go to slip my shirt off. Clothes are suffering. Why wear them?

I almost have it off when someone snatches me up.

“Hey,” I whine. “Tucker, save me!” I scream as my body goes over Branson’s shoulder.

Tucker laughs. “You’re on your own, Strawberry! Should have acted right.”

I pout.

* * *

I crash onto a soft, black fluffy duvet. Looking around, I can’t make out much with the lights off and only a dim lamp on. The bed has to be the softest I’d ever felt. The comforter is so fluffy it pops up around me as I sink into it. The urge to move my arms and legs in a snow angel is overwhelming but I somehow, reluctantly, resist.

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