Sincerely, Emily ✓

14 • Big Fat Liar

I DIDN'T EXPECT to spend my New Years with a snoring boy beside me.

Our original plan was to watch movie marathons until we could see the fireworks, but one by one, we all started to get tired. Mom was the first one to say that she wanted to go to bed, so she returned to our house after saying I could stay with the Grants for the night. When it was finally midnight, fireworks exploded and we all cheered. A few minutes later, though, Mr. and Mrs. Grant decided to go to bed, leaving us.

Not long after, I was the only one standing. (Figuratively, of course.) We were watching Mr. Bean's Holiday but you could tell it was getting kind of boring. Tom was beside me, sleeping soundlessly with — I wanted to laugh — his earphones still plugged. The song Bulletproof Love by Pierce The Veil was blasting through his ears. Luckily he had no password, so I turned it off for him.

Jessie, Jake and Raph — being the "grown-ups" here — slept on the carpet. If I'd known Jake would be snoring like a pig, I'd have bought earmuffs. And you would believe that no one could top off that snoring. . . well, you're wrong.

Oliver was the winner here. He snored so loud that it was a miracle he didn't wake the whole neighbourhood. I could hold a parade right here and there and he still wouldn't wake up. It didn't help that he was on my other side either, facing me. But that allowed me to see the little beauty marks on his face. Like that little scar on his chin. Or the freckles around his cheeks.

I wasn't creepy at all.

Anyway, on normal days, I would've written a letter, but today I didn't felt like it. It's not like I didn't want to wish a Happy New Years — I really did — but I doubt they were having a good time. I didn't want to brag.

I looked back to the older brown-haired, olive-skinned boy beside me, lost in his dreams. I wonder what he was dreaming about.

Looks like I wouldn't be figuring that out, because before long, my eyes were getting droopy and I lost my consciousness in five. . . four. . . three. . . two —

________

A buzzing sound woke me, disturbing my beauty sleep.

I sat up on my bed, rubbing my eyes. Who would call me at seven in the morning on a Sunday? That was just too cruel to begin with.

I lazily looked at the screen. Then I sat up straight.

Valerie Moore.

Val was calling me. For what could be the hundredth time.

The last time I talked to her was during the previous holidays, when I greeted her with "Merry Christmas!" and "Happy New Years!" and nothing else.

I groaned before ignoring her calls. I didn't like ignoring one of my best friends, but it was easier ignoring her than telling her the truth. There was less pain. And because once I looked into those eyes, she'd know every lie.

"Who was that?"

I jumped from my bed, landing with my ass on the floor. I winced, both because it hurt and the fact that I couldn't stand up on my own. Then I noticed him sitting on the corner near my bed. No, actually, he was sitting on the floor.

"Oliver," I groaned. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Your mom said I could come here, so I did," he replied, smiling at me instead of apologising or helping me up. "She went out for a morning run."