"Why has she been so happy since?" Jake whispered to Paul, after pulling him to the conner near the stairs to gossip about Melanie.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked, a little annoyed by the forced dragging, a little curious.

"What do you mean what do l mean?" Jake retorted, still in a whisper. "Haven't you noticed that huge. . ." he pulled his lips to goofily imitate a wide grin. "...On her face?"

Paul glanced at Melanie for a second and was not following Jake's concern. "Is something wrong with that?"

"Yes!" Jake answered sharply. "Melanie . . . does . . . NOT . . . smile."

Paul paused for a moment and took his time to watch Melanie as she attempted to wipe off a stain on her skirt that she got from the cab; using her thumb gleefully as if some significant extent of pleasure came from doing that. She had worn a high-waisted flare skirt crisscrossed with white and black stripes, giving it the look of a fashionable, wearable chess board. With it, she wore a marching plain white cotton shirt with some blacks at the tips of the sleeves, breast pocket and collar, tucked into the skirt to highlight her waist frame, buttoned up to her neck, and finished up neatly with a black but with white soled ALL STARS. She looked fine, with the image of a hot ivy league high school girl and for some reasons only understood by him, it bred dirty thoughts in Jake's mind.

She had just arrived before the scheduled time, and she still had that same smile as in the morning, and frankly, Jake was getting scared of it; while Paul on the other hand just thought she was cute when she smiled, that is, really smiled and showed off those dimples.

"Well she's right there." Paul finally replied with a cavalier mien." You can ask her yourself, why she's so happy or..."

Paul trailed off and Jake squinted. "Huh? Thats. . ."

"Hey Melanie." Paul called out, and motioned Melanie to come over.

Melanie walked up to them, still cleaning up, still smiling. "What?" Her smile revealed a set of finely arranged teeth.

"Why are you so happy?" Paul asked, dispassionately.

Jake stifled a curse in incredulity. He could not tell if Paul was obnoxious or just . . . slow.

"Am I that. . .?" She stopped thoughtfully and straightened her shirt "Why is everyone saying that I'm that extraordinarily happy? Why do you think I am?" She queried whilst trying hard to hold back her smiles. The guys just stared at her without response so she added; "Does it look bad?" She suddenly seemed self-conscious. "Y'all have this worried look on your faces like I'm sprouting facial hair or something."

"Nope." Paul replied. "I love it when you smile, and we were just being curious," He reached out quickly and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "that's all. I love the skirt. It's beautiful."

"Thanks. It was a birthday gift from my mom." Melanie replied and her smile glowed a lot brighter as she exchanged a relatively long loving stare with Paul.

Jake noticed them exchanging smiles like that. It wasn't making any sense, It was as if the past night never happened, as if Ashley did not happen. It was pretty much the same way Melanie and Paul used to be with each other, exchanging gazes that conveyed rapidly growing emotional tie, before things got messed up; except that this time, Jake was not the same way, Jake did not stand at the sideline and happily cheered them on and encouraged to them to be a thing. He couldn't understand why things wouldn't for once go the way he expected or . . . wanted. An idea creeper into his thoughts. It seemed to him that both of them, Melanie especially, had forgotten about Ashley completely, so he would remind them. "Paul, Ashley called. I don't know what she wanted but she might want to tag along." He lied spuriously.

Melanie reacted excitedly and didn't even let him finish. "Really? That would be nice."

Jake was shocked. He observed her and could sense no pretense or sarcasm. Paul, on the other hand, was jolted. "What? When? Where was I when she called?"

"When you were. . . um . . at the balcony with . . . while I was checking my PC for, you know, the stuffs. . . you know? uh..." He cleared his throat in lousy obfuscation, leaving Paul's mind to tiring juggling. "Oh, that reminds me." He changed the topic evasively. "You guys won't believe what I've got all planned out for us today."

"Huh?"

"Paul, Melanie," he paused for effect and deployed his charming smile. "prepare to have your minds blown off."

"Blown off? I'm not sure I'd like that." Melanie's face expressed slight fright, but the humor and trace of mockery in her tone was obvious.

"Just come on," Jake said with a chuckle as he used the stairs on the way up to his room. They trailed behind him, Melanie's mind prepping to be disappointed, Paul's mind still struggling to understand when or why Ashley must have called and how he must have missed it, since he has been with his phone all day.

The door to Jake's room was opened and Melanie entered with a sarcastic remark. "Wow! My mind is definitely blown OFF." She emphasized OFF with a hint of negativity, and for real, the state of Jake's room was mind blowing in an utterly unappealing manner.

It was like stumbling into the palace of a piggy emperor. Not a thing was in the right place, dirty laundry could be found plopped on his seat, shirts and shorts were heaped on his bed, suggesting that they fell when the big bag on the floor next to the bed was turned over. His life sized mirror had a slightly curvy crack line from the half of its length to its bottom, but Melanie imagined that it had been like that for a while and its usability was not diminished significantly. She did not, however, give much attention to the ajar closet doors, chocolate bars and cheetos on the table beside his cowboy boots, next to the greasy empty pizza box. She did not pay attention to even a lot more than those.

Paul chuckled at Melanie's remark.

"...and I'm very afraid to ask what that choking odor is all about." Melanie added snidely.

Jake kept suspiciously quiet, and looked self-conscious, but only Paul sensed it, so it leas him to sniff the air in the room, his nostrils flared investigatively. He knew that smell, it was very faint and altered with heavy musk, yet it definitely rung a bell; but he just couldn't quite place a finger on it.

"Are you done making fun of me . . . Yet?" Jake asked, as he stood awkwardly.

"Nope. Not yet." Melanie shook her head, chuckling.

"I'm still waiting for my mind to be blown." Paul chipped in.

"That will come later, roomie. For now," He looked Melanie over suggestively. "Melanie needs to change her outfit."

Paul took his turn to loom Melanie over, and admired her once more. "Why? What's wrong with her outfit?"

"Yea. What's wrong with it?" Melanie asked, a little flabbergasted in a manner that suggested that their approval meant much to her. "You don't like it?"

"No, not that," Jake said as he walked to his closet, and began a ransacking process. "just that we are not going for a picnic. I'm trying to get us to do something a little, no, a lot more adventurous." He said and Paul quietly worried about what would be more adventurous than the events of like a week ago.

"Seriously," Jake continued. "I can't believe for the first time I needed you to dress the way you normally do, you appeared dressing like a clerk or something."

"What's up with you today Jake?" Paul asked with a tone of concern. "You are unusually too uptight."

"Yeah!" Melanie agreed. "You should chill a lil." She added.

Jake stood for a minute, staring at the two with a sneer. He shook his head before he turned and peered into his closet. Seconds later, he flung a pair of Adidas tracksuit pants at Melanie. She did not see it coming, and so before she noticed and caught it, a part slapped her face. A little fright took Jake and he was apologetic the instant it happened. He had made a mental note to remember that not everyone was an athlete or was always in the cat-reflex mode, but often he had forgotten long enough to repeat the mistake of hauling objects at people. He stood speechless and did not know what exactly to say, except, "Sorry."

A normal Melanie would have been pissed, but instead she grabbed it with tips of her fingers and held it up, looking it over. It was black and wooly with thin signature yellow stripes about it. "Atleast this doesn't stink . . ." She said with a shrugg, before she contemplated and added, "much."

Jake still stared at her and could not decide if to be grateful for her reaction or . . . worried. Melanie noticed him staring, with uneasiness evident in his eyes. "What is it? Jake?"

"Noth . . . um. . ." He jerked his head to orient himself. "uh, I can't find the top." He said self-consciously and glanced at Paul, who stood absentmindedly by the table checking his phone, perhaps, checking his call log.

Melanie pondered for a second. "It's fine. I can be in my singlet" She replied and, without wasting time, proceeded to unbuttoning her shirt starting from the top one that clasped her throat as if she had been waiting for any reason, any reason, besides the fact that is choked her, to unbutton it.

Paul paid no attention to them as his thumbs tapped noiselessly on his phone's screen; but Jake on the other hand stood spell bound as he watched Melanie.

She unbottened slowly and effortlessly. There was something about the way she did it that was so . . . delicious, like something one saw only in sensual soap operas, scripted, acted and re-acted and edited into perfection, and Jake became an attentive audience. The moment she pulled her shirt open, to expose what was underneath, a certain swaying perkiness and sexiness was revealed, causing Jake's heart to make an excited flip. Her perfectly sized breasts pushed her bra, which in turn pushed the white curtain singlet defiantly. Her slim, not thin waist, her slightly revealed cleavage and the summation of her entirety were so pretty that Jake was almost literally drooling as he watched her, his heart pulsating, and she was oblivious of what sort and extent of storm she stirred in his core. If she did, perhaps she would have stopped at that, but after she pulled off the shirt, she went on, to unzip her skirt, right there, right in front of the boys.

Did she expect the boys to know to look away automatically? Jake could neither tell or care, or even care for the sensitive silence and tension in the atmosphere. He wouldn't care because he couldn't sense this atmosphere for that moment -- because for that moment, he was not Jake; he was a male mammal and Melanie was a female, a beautiful sexy female mammal with lips the shape and color of strawberry candies. He was beginning to feel his knees go weak, and feel a tingling sensation in his fingertips that ached to touch and fondle and squeeze. A strong primal instinct began pushing him right then, he began thinking about what she would really look like stark naked, what it would feel like to be in bed with her, how she would moan when he enters her. She did not look at him. Perhaps, she avoided making awkward eye contact, but with that she allowed variety of imaginations to thrive in his mind instantaneously as she pulled down her skirt to reveal some perfect long pair of thighs, a lighter and fresher part of her skin, extending downwards from her hips. The moment slowed and Jake could not help himself as he fixated at the area that traced a downward pointing triangle of life and lust, and the fact that it was clad in a black lace-tipped hip-length tights did little to limit his penetrating vision.

Melanie grabbed the tracksuit pants that Jake had flung her way, checked to discern which side was to front and which area was to back, then she began to wear it.

An instant urge took hold of Jake, and drove him into motion on a mission to reach out and drag the tracksuit pants from Melanie's hands, to keep her from covering up. He would not stop there, he would hold her against the wall right there, have her wrap those legs around his waist, their bodies would press together and she would moan at the feel of his tongue and the bulge in his pants.

He made a step. What was he thinking? Oh, He wasn't . . . he was not thinking -- he was feeling.

He made a second step. His heart was beating fast, his brain was flooded with hormonal chemicals, drowning it, depriving it of the sufficient oxygen needed for logic and rationality.

Third step...

"Jake?" Paul called with widened scolding eyes, staring intensely at him.

"Huh?" Jake was jolted awake. "What?" He asked but he needn't any reply to know the answer. The look on Paul's face as he observed him was all too familiar, it was the look he got sometimes that presumed him to harbor psycho tendencies.

Jake slouched and felt ashamed at the realization that there was a visible bulge at the zipper area of his pants. His eyes widened in frenzy and quickly, before Melanie turned around, he plopped down at the edge of his bed and crossed his legs.

Melanie checked herself through the cracked mirror after putting on the tracksuit pants, and smiled. It fitted her, the pants fitted high around her waist over the sneakers and the white strap-sleeved singlet tucked into the pants.

"Guys, I'm ready. How do I look?" She asked with an akimbo pose and a dimpled pout and let out an explosive giggle.

"Wow! For a second there, I thought some angel had replaced you." Paul answered sweetly, but it came off mechanical and hardly smooth.

"Aw . . . you're so sweet." Melanie reached out to him and pecked his cheek. "You say the nicest things."

Jake scratched his head, as he took time to recover from his perverted delusions. "Can we go now?"

"Tots." Melanie said, supposedly meaning totally; earning her sneers from the boys. Sincerely though, she had half-expected a flattering compliment from Jake, a smoother expert one and it was demoralising to feel that she failed to merit one.

Jake exited his room, leading the way quickly. Unsuspecting Melanie followed right behind him failing to guess the reason why Jake seemed to be uneasy and annoyed a little. She feared that she had stirred the wrong pot when she was intoxicated the past night, and had made things awkward. Guilt raked her. Paul had trailed behind, and was about to shut the door behind him, just when he noticed something which stood out defiantly in the shade of underneath-Jake's-bed. It wanted to be seen and not hidden, it was whitish, and without sharp corners. He stood there for a second, as his curious mind wondered what it was. He went in with squinted eyes to get a closer look.

"Paul, are you coming or what?" Melanie called from the corridor.

"Yea. I'm right behind you." He replied absentmindedly.

With the help of his phone's light, he noticed a white roundish ceramic plate, with lots of rolled partly burnt papers and ashes and greens in and around it. He was confused, but only for an infinitesimal moment.

He heard footsteps approaching quickly, so he sharply walked away and headed to the door. Reaching it, he almost collided into anxious Jake who barged in, to see what he was doing, and cut his curiosity short before he discovered his illegal guilty pleasure.

"I was just getting my phone. Which I left behind." Paul lied, even without being questioned and walked past Jake who just stood there at the door, left behind to wonder if he hadn't seen him holding his phone in his hand as they were walking out of the room.

"Jake, come along. . . You are leading, you know?" Melanie called motioning him. He followed, dropping his thoughts behind at the door as he jogged up the distance of the hallway.

Paul on the other hand continued pretending to be busy with his phone, while he still thought of what he had seen. It had occurred to him why the odor masked in an excessive outpour of Jake's perfume was very familiar. It was the smell of burnt cannabis, the smell of indulgence and unpleasant consequences.

He sighed worryingly as they tiptoed past Maria's room, which it's open door revealed her kneeling before a miniature shrine, with white candles lighted around the portrait of baby Jesus cradled in the arms of her then earthly mother. She prayed voicelessly as she moved her thumbs over the rosary she held.