I awake in the morning with Winter's arms wrapped around me. It's 6am; enough time for him to get home before his mother notices he's not been home. I feel like this is how things are supposed to be, but a stressful feeling niggles in my subconscious. Christian...
"Winter... Winter, wake up," I whisper, shaking him gently. His pale eyes open, and he smiles.
"Morning, baby," he responds, moving in to nuzzle my neck. Just him doing this gives me shivers.
"No, we can't do this now!" I giggle, trying to push him away without effort, or effect. "You gotta get home before your mum wakes up."
He growls. "Can't we just... not go to school today? Let's just stay in bed, and I can violate you all day --"
"You will not!" I can feel myself blushing profusely as he kisses my neck, and purrs in to my ear.
"Come on, I know you would love it..."
"We have to go to school!" I roll over, lifting the covers off myself. "I have to. I got a text from Christian last night."
"What did he say?" Winter says, sighing, all playfulness gone. I can tell he'd rather not hear about it right now, but it's bothering me.
"He wants to talk to me after school." I pause. "I have no idea what he's going to say, but I need to know, whatever it is. I need to see him..."
"Well... can we at least shower together or something?" He reaches across the bed, still flat on his stomach, just enough to poke me gently in the back with a poised finger. "I feel all frustrated..."
"No!" I swat him away with faux sternness. "Get up. I'm going in the bathroom; when I get out, you better be gone." I lean and kiss him on the forehead, whisper "I love you", then leave him as he growls into the bed covers.
*
I make it to my first class just in time. I realise that I share no classes with Christian on Tuesdays and I feel a little uneasy knowing I'll probably only see him at the end of the day, unless there is a chance encounter. Unlikely. This adds a lot more pressure. What is he going to say...? Is he going to hit me? Probably. Wouldn't even blame him. I'd let it happen, to be honest.
The day passes far too quickly, without seeing Chris anywhere in the halls. Did he turn up today? I start questioning if he even texted me in the first place, but when I check my phone, the text is still there, sitting under his name.
I'm only half paying attention as I pile my books in to my locker. The last bell has just rung through the halls and there is a scurry of teenagers around me. Girls linked at the elbows, couples sharing stolen kisses behind their metal locker doors. I shut my own loudly, but stood right by me is the redheaded siren, Andrei.
"Have you seen Christian?" he asks softly, the hint of his Russian accent flowing perfectly through the syllables of Chris' name. I feel a little chill, a sudden - if faint - appreciation for why everyone is so bewitched by him.
I squint at him. Why is he looking for Chris? "No... not today."
He looks disappointed. He tilts his head, his messy hair bun bobbing a little with the movement. "He was supposed to text me."
"I didn't even know you were friends." I start to walk down the hall away from him, but he follows me. He trots alongside; he's a good four inches shorter than me and clearly his little legs can't keep up with me. He isn't deterred.
"We... we met last night for a bit."
I'm so used to the flirty, suggestive Andrei that this tiny, vulnerable Andrei seems bizarre to me. "Right... well... I don't know what to tell you. We haven't spoken." I feel like I'm lying, even though I'm not.
He turns and stands in front of me. "Okay... well, if you see him, can you tell him to text me? Or call me?" He's looking up at me in this really cute way. Now I can really see how he enchants people; the big brown eyes, the soft auburn curls, the innocent-looking demeanor. I almost want to touch him myself. Goddamn...
"Sure, I'll tell him."
Why the hell am I agreeing to this? I hate this guy! But nevermind. That seems to make him happy. He says a chirpy thank you before seductively running a hand over my arm and walking away. God-freaking-damn... I shake it off, and head towards the Shed in hopes that Chris is already there.
I reach the front of The Shed, and the only indication that someone is there is the faint smell of cigarette smoke; Marlboro Superking Menthols, Chris' I'm So Fancy brand.
I poke my head around the corner. There, in ripped black skinnies and a hugely oversized dark blue sweater, is Christian. A long white cigarette hangs steadily between his naked lips, smoke billowing from them as he inhales and exhales methodically, his hands occupied with his phone. He looks so elegant I want to just watch him for a minute. I don't get a chance to look for long because he notices me.
A smile - did he smile? Does that mean he's not mad anymore? - skips across his lips as he removes the cigarette, but it's so slight I can't even be sure it was really there.
"Hey," we both say as I walk towards him.
I stand in front of him silently.
"I brought something," Chris says, sticking the cigarette between his lips again and rummaging in his bag. I look on in confusion. Is it all the shit I've left at his house over the years? Is it Winter's head? Is it a can of mace?
It's a half-bottle of Jack Daniels, unopened.
"You want the first sip?"
I stare on at him. "What?"
He opens the bottle. "Here." When I don't take it, he grows quieter. "It's a peace offering."
My heart skips. Peace? He wants peace? But wait... "I'm sorry, I'm confused. I thought you brought me here to beat me up." Chris starts laughing. "I'm serious! I was prepared to get my ass kicked! I had accepted my fate!"
"Babe... I would never do that!" He holds the bottle out to me again, so I take it.
"It's not poisoned, is it?"
He shakes his head, stubbing out his burnt out Marlboro. I take a big gulp, and flinch as I feel the burn. I hand it back to him, and he too takes a swig.
With that out of the way, we both sit on the step, the same step we had sat on a mere five days ago, when everything started unravelling.
He's the first to speak. "So, I was wrong."
"What?" I turn to him.
"I was wrong," he repeats simply. "I... don't even know where to start." He takes a deep breath. "I know now that the feelings I was having for you were just... rebound feelings. And when you offered yourself on a plate to me, completely out of your face, I really shouldn't have taken advantage."
I'm utterly flabbergasted. So flabbergasted that I am using the word flabbergasted.
"Like... you're my best friend, and I love you, so I guess in my disillusioned heartbreak I got a bit confused..." He takes another sip from the Jack, and hands it back to me. "And given how incredibly drunk - and obviously distressed - you were... and I wasn't really that drunk at all... God, I'm so awful."
"No. Chris... I'm sorry for what I did! I shouldn't have tried to use you because I was mad --"
"Yeah, no, I know that," Christian laughs. "But you barely knew what you were doing. In your right mind, you would never have done that... and in my right mind, I never would have let you."
Is this actually happening? Or am I dreaming?
"I was still really hurting about Oliv, and I was transferring those feelings on to you because we're so close and it was easy to."
"So... you forgive me?"
"Well, yeah, of course..." Chris' face is solemn. "But... I can't forgive you for... being so loud."
My face falls to my hands, the humiliation drowning me in a pit of my own despair. "I can't believe you just said that."
"It's true! The whole neighbourhood must know you're Bottom now."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I yell, pushing him off the step, a laugh forsaking my embarrassed rage. I drink from the bottle again, hoping the shame will fade a little the more drunk I get. Chris is lying on the grass, his own laughter filling the air.
I roll my eyes, and pass the bottle back to him. He sits up, and drinks, still chuckling through his sips.
"Hey... Andrei was looking for you earlier," I say, feeling it's safe to attempt regaining normality.
Christian looks away, a blush passing his cheeks. "Oh..."
"Chris..." I narrow my eyes at him. "Since when are you and Andrei pals?"
"I... may have done a dumb thing last night," Chris says before taking another big draught from the bottle, swiftly moving as I go to grab it from him.
"What did you do?!" I ask, even though I think I know what he's about to tell me.
"Andrei." He tries to repress a girlish giggle, as my face drops.
"Are you serious?!" I laugh, because it's funny. It's funny that Chris is speaking to me again. It's funny that Andrei can charm the pants off the Pope. It's funny that Chris' sexual experiences has tripled in five days.
"I know but..." He lowers his voice. "It was amazing, Yan."
"I need a cigarette!"
As he continues to insist how great it was, and that Andrei seems to be totally fascinated with him now, us both laughing in the slowly setting sun with our slowly decreasing alcohol, and the slowly diminishing awkwardness, I feel overwhelmingly happy. As we drink and drink, he asks me about Winter, about what I plan to do with Allan and Satou, and I feel like Saturday barely even happened. I feel happy that I have friends like Winter and Chris. As browning leaves lazily fall around us, whirling in the air, down from the surrounding trees, I feel complete.
Autumn calmly approaches.
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