Sixteen Going On Seventeen

"I literally don't know why the hell he hasn't asked you out yet," Lee complained, stowing the folded clothes delicately inside the closet. I was grateful for her intervention, but it was a reluctant gratitude. I liked my room like I liked myself - messed up.

"I know, right? I'm getting tired of his shameless flirting," Art said, lowering her feet from my desk and swiveling on my chair to face me. I squirmed under their gazes.

"Why're you guys looking at me like it's my fault? It's really not. Or maybe it is, I dunno," I swung my feet, resting limply on the bed, to the soft texture of the green carpet. It caressed the soles of of feet as I drew patterns on it with my toe. The carpet became a darker green when swiped my toe forward and lighter when I moved it backwards, and this phenomenon seemed considerably more engaging than our conversation.

"Hey," Art leaned closer to me conspiratorially. "What if you ask him out?"