Life Lines

21: Smack Them Together

Chapter Twenty-One

Instead of sleeping in separate rooms, my father allowed us to have an improved sleepover in the living room. It wasn't the most comfortable thing on the planet and around two in the morning I couldn't take it anymore.

"Schy," I nudged him.

"Yeah. I'm awake."

"I'm going upstairs. This is uncomfortable."

"What about me?" he whined and rolled over so he was looking at me.

"It's called a guestroom, Schy. God. Are you half asleep?"

He grinned and half buried his face in the pillow. "Man you are bitchy when you just wake up."

"Shut up." I shoved his shoulder and sat up. "Are you coming?"

"You know this was your idea."

He unfolded from the floor and stood up. I'd forgotten that he slept without a shirt on so when he hauled me to my feet, I bumped into him and squeaked. Flesh smacking into flesh at an accelerated rate hurt. It was worse than playing slaps when we were kids.

"Jesus, Schy! Put a shirt on. And this totally wasn't my idea. You're the one that..."

The fact that our relationship was completely platonic made this whole thing easy. There was no awkward moments or movements. We knew where we stood with each other and romantic was not it. It wasn't even in the realm of possibilities.

"It's not my fault you weigh less then a buck thirty.

"You have no room to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

We scooped the blankets off the floor and dropped them on the sofa. I would fold them in the morning. I was way too tired to do it now.

"It means Allie was right. You are a string bean."

"With muscles," he said. "See." He flexed his arm and I stifled a laugh. He was in that good muscle mass range but he wasn't buff. The definition was easy to see but not bulging like some of the guys at our school. He even had freckles and a miniscule amount of hair dotting across his chest.

"Oh yeah. You're like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Come on." I grabbed his hand and led the way upstairs.

"Hey Nat?"

"If this is going to be a veiled reference to the way my butt moves, keep it to yourself."

He paused for a few seconds, enough for us to reach the top of the stairs.

"Hey Nat?"

I turned around and smiled. "Yes?"

"I love you, you know that right? I mean, I pick on you, probably hit the vulgar scale to its max but..."

"Yeah, I know."

He nodded, his mouth turned to the side like he was thinking about something. "And if you decide, when you become Elite, to...you know, get with Cecil..."

"Stop. Stop, stop." I waved my hand in his face. I looked over at my father's door and noticed it was cracked. This was not a conversation I wanted to have where he could potentially wake up and hear it. I motioned towards my room and he rolled his eyes and nodded. We tip toed quietly inside and closed the door. "Schy, who said anything about Cecil?"

"I'm not blind, Nat." He plopped down on my bed and sighed. "You know, I always liked your bed. It's much more comfy than my own. You have to tell me what kind of mattress you have."