All The Days Of Summer

THREE

Three. 

I lean against the door willing it to hold the weight of me and all my problems, the gravity of it pulls me to the floor, damnit Meg, damn you for playing that card, that was my card.

"Meg..Damnit I know...I know he did" Heath's voice hammers against the inside of my head, and I'm angry, I'm so angry that I can't move, I want to burst in there and scream and hit him, but all I manage is to begin to cry. Of course, he knew, he just didn't care. 

"You knew? and you didn't call? You didn't text? you didn't even attend the funeral" Meg's voice ditches its attempt to whisper, there's volume and anger and I am grateful that she's in there, that she can still yell at him for being a dick. "We knew him for 13 years, Heath, 13 years, and you didn't think that maybe you could stop being a selfish prick for one day?"

I can feel his breath he lets go like he always does when he's caught up in something, he will run his hand through his hair and pull at his lip, but I'm on my feet before I can imagine what he'll say, Heath fights fire with fire and I can't take him right now. I'm rushing, almost running, desperate to get out of the thick air choking me, I round the corner quickly, too quickly, not looking where I'm going, and then I'm on the floor.

"Shit, sorry" I stammer, I look crazy and he must think I'm clinically insane after today, his ocean eyes take me in, judging me, wondering how quickly he can get out of here, I feel it, the disgust. 

" You're crying" he states, and I realize I am, sobbing almost, again because I can never seem to stop crying, I fumble for a way to justify it, so maybe tomorrow he might wake up and think that I'm a little less insane, a crash interrupts. The loud thunk of a fist hitting a wall vibrates through the hall, and we are both running again, Cooper flings the door open, and there it is, Megan is holding a photo in her grip so tight that it begins to crease, her eyes are flamed and her jaw clenched, she's not crying. Heath is cradling a hand, his left, because it's always his left, his light blue eyes are rimmed red and he locks his eyes on me for the first time in 13 months, It's only for a second before he storms past me, Megan follows but leads towards the balcony, the photo drops, and I think for about picking it up for a second and laying it flat again for her, but I leave it, following her instead. 

" I hate him" she sniffs, she's with someone else, the boy from before, the one who shook my hand, I scramble for his name, Jonah, I think, he's looking at her like he's only just seeing her, and he reaches an arm to her shoulder, to comfort her, I leave her there with him, I don't think she needs me to cry on her shoulder right now. I go to look for Heath. 

The kitchen is dimly lit, streams of the last bit of sunset stream through its windows, and I can see dust particles flying around, Cooper is there, and even though it's not who I'm looking for, I'm relieved. He is gripping a bottle of vodka in his hand, the good kind, not the stuff you usually see university boys drinking.

"You're drinking?" I question, stepping to the edge of the table he's preached at, I'm tempted to push his feet off but decide against potentially pissing him off. 

"You want some?" He asks, I take it, pouring the liquid down my throat, cringing at the feel of the burn. "I didn't actually think you would" he finishes, gaze fixed upon me. 

"Why not" I shrug, he's right though, in a sense, usually I wouldn't, I hate the vulnerability of being drunk and my fear of vomiting usually steers me away from big nights out. I have too much shit right now though, too much hurt and anger and I know that for a moment it might give me the chance to numb it. 

"You don't seem like the fun type" It burns, the feel of rejection, worse than the vodka did, I take another swig. Again he is right.

"You don't know me" I laugh because that feels like something to do under his gaze, it's heavy like he's analyzing me, it's intimidating, but some part of me doesn't want him to stop.

"Luka, Right?" I nod, my name rolls of his tongue and I have to take another swing of the vodka to stop myself smiling, the alcohol is hitting me faster than I thought. "How did you end up here this summer?" it sounds like a judgment, the way he asks, and I suddenly become too aware of myself, the way my body sits, the way my laugh sounds, the amount I'm drinking. 

"Megan, obviously" He knows this too, the way he nods like he's rushing me to get to the next question, Hi's nose ring is silver, on his left side, it almost blends in and I have to really focus on it to not meet his gaze.

"She looks like a fun girl" There it is, the uncomfortable comparison, the moment it hits that someone is only talking to me to get to her because she is the fun girl, the polite and kind by day, Funny wild girl by night, I have learned that for most people it's an immediate attraction, to be near her, to bask in her glow, what an easy way to do it, through her best friend. "Is she single?" the final blow. 

"No" I lie, I'm not sure why it doesn't change anything, it doesn't make her less appealing, less captivating, it doesn't change me, my body, my two loud laugh, his attraction doesn't just shift, not that I want it to, I'd just like it to be me for once, without the catch. 

"Shame" His tone is uninterested and I find myself thinking he is bored, he no longer needs to entertain me for his benefit. I stan, with one last swig of the bottle, smacking it against the hardwood table, his eyes follow me the whole way out. 

This, I think, will be the whole contents of my summer, two boys pining over my best friend, her brother, ignoring me, singling me out into the shadows of a conversation. This isn't what we planned, Scott was supposed to come, we were supposed to tan all day and play board games, attend the markets and festival. even this morning, when everything had changed, I was persuaded with the promise of feeling better, I feel worse, my headache pounds against my temples, The knott in my stomach pushes bile into my throat, Not a fun girl, Fun, His version of fun, their version of fun, I want to, just this once feel like I am fun, maybe its the alcohol pushing the adrenaline through me, but I do the only thing I can think off. 

Before my feet even hit the sand, the white linen cover-up is bawled into my hand, the sand flicks against my bare thighs, stinging the skin and I push myself forward, I spare a quick look around me, making sure there are no peering eyes, the rational part of me is still there telling me that no one else should see my body, no one else needs to know, this is for me, to know I'm more than the sum of someone else opinion, I can be fun too. Just before my toes hit the water I drop the suit to the ground, leaving the pile of clothes on the edge of the world, I run into the water. it is cold, summer has only just started and hasn't warmed the water all the way through the night yet, it stuns me only for a second, then as I ease my head under the water, I feel the water pull away the parts of me built up with sadness and worry and panic, it all washes away into the sea, I bring my head up again, laughing, hysterically laughing at myself, the adrenaline still pumps through me, and I feel myself enjoying the rush, It could be like this always, I think to myself, I could be this girl, but I know it's only a statement fueled by expensive alcohol and rejection. 

The water is loud, lapping around me as waves break further out at sea, I close my eyes and resist the urge to float out to sea, I wonder for a moment if this is how death feels. I am so consumed by thoughts, that I don't notice him walking to the edge of the world, where my clothes lay heaped, now soaking wet, they drip as he picks them up, soaking his arm. it isn't until he speaks that I realize he has entered into my world. 

"What the hell are you doing"