Currents

Thirty-five ~ Relationship

Thirty-five ~ Relationship

For the tenth time that hour, my phone began to vibrate on my bedside table. For the tenth time that hour, I ignored it.

Less than twelve hours had passed since Brent and Alastair's confrontation. A lot could happen in twelve hours in Carringham. 

Despite my incessant phone, I at least had the house to myself. Mum and Dad were working, but that didn't mean they hadn't tried communicating with me: two emails from Dad, three calls from Mum, and several rounds of them knocking on my door before they left this morning.

I'd pretended to be asleep.

The vibrating concluded, and I took a deep breath as I reached across to cancel the notification.

From within my hand, the phone illuminated again, and my eyes flickered downwards out of instinct. This time it wasn't one of my friends but Brent, telling me he was outside.

We hadn't arranged to meet up, but I found myself craving company whilst wondering what it meant that Brent and I had reached a stage where I considered him a source of reassurance and comfort.

Still in my pyjamas, I padded downstairs and pulled open the front door.

"Is it safe to come in?" he asked, glancing behind me.

I nodded and stepped aside. "My parents are at work. What brings you here?"

He slid past me, his body brushing against mine as he did so, and came to a gradual halt in the hallway, as if he didn't want to go any further.

After giving the door a push of encouragement, I let it swing shut and ushered Brent through to the living room, noticing his eyes absorbing the new surroundings. I hadn't forgotten his reaction to the Camberley house, nor his cutting comment about how the other half live. We'd come a long way since then, but I wondered if he still had those same thoughts now and chose not to vocalise them.

"The museum doesn't open 'til ten, and I figured I might as well come to see you since you're nearby," he said, his eyes landing on me again. He extended an arm, a white paper bag dangling from his fingertips. "I brought you breakfast."

I smiled as I took the warm bag from him and peered into it. A large, golden croissant sat inside, its warmth suggesting it had been freshly baked not long before.

"Thanks. That's really... thoughtful."

After last night, we needed to address the elephant in the room. We couldn't let Alastair's words go undiscussed and calling his gesture "sweet", which had been my initial choice of term, had such romantic undertones that I feared to go there.

He cleared his throat. "So, how are you?"

Pondering my answer, I sunk down into the plush cushions of the sofa and tore a corner off the croissant. Trickles of steam emerged from within the pastry, floating upwards into the air and fading into nothingness.

"I'm fine, I guess. It's not like it's affected me too much... I'd have to leave the house for that to happen." I forced out a laugh, then slid the corner of croissant into my mouth.

Brent sat down next to me. "It's my fault. If I hadn't shown up last night—"

I swallowed and shook my head. "Honestly, no, it's not. What Alastair and I were doing was stupid, anyway. Parading around in a fake relationship to save face and avoid telling my parents? I don't want to live that kind of life."

"How did they react?"

"I only told my dad," I said with a sheepish smile. "But he'll have told Mum. I've just avoided her."