Jump | Zach Mitchell

thirty-eight: epilogue

I'M just coming out of the shower when I hear an insistent knock on the door. 

"Just a second!" I call, nearly falling when I shimmy into my panties. The towel around my head doesn't help my balance, which is already in bad shape from the excessive physical exertion I had to do throughout the day. My legs are basically jello.

"It's me," Zach's deep voice. "Are you okay? I've been knocking for, like, five minutes."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply. The towel dips in my face, pulling at the little hairs on the back of my neck. I let out a small yelp, then angrily rip the offending cloth off my head and throw it across the room.

"Okay, so... can I come in?"

"No, hold on." I struggle with my bra, wrestling with the temperamental straps, trying my hardest to not brush or make any motion that might irritate my injured side. You would think after the kind of day I had something would go my way, but no.

He whines on the other side of the door. "Why not?"

"Because I'm naked, asshole!" I holler back, beyond frustrated with the stupid garment.

Immediately the door is shoved open, and Zach steps inside, eyes wide and alert.

"Zach!" I gasp, yelling and clutching the bra cups to my chest. "Get outside and wait, you impatient piece of-"

"What did you think I was going to do when you said that you were naked?" He looks me up and down. "...which, by the way, you're not."

I sputter. "I'm naked enough. Now get out so I can put this stupid fucking worthless piece of crap on."

He grimaces, not wanting to leave. "I've seen you fully naked before, and I've seen you in a bikini before." Then he backtracks. "Not that this doesn't do it for me, because believe me, it totally does-"

"There's a difference between swimming naked in a kiddie pool when you're five and seeing each other naked when you're sixteen, Zach." I sigh deeply and close my eyes. "Just... please shut up and get out."

"Don't tell me what to do," he says, like always. His scoffing tone turns a little softer when I don't immediately retaliate. "You seem... upset."

"No, really?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, really." He saunters over to my bed and sits on the edge, facing me. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just..." I bite my lip, looking around the room, desperately trying to hold it together. The massive mar across my side calls me, though, and I look down at it with scorn. "It's so ugly."

His eyes carefully drift to the purple splotch across my ribs. "It'll go away," he says quietly. "It's just going to take some time."

I nod, trying to keep the tears out of my voice. "It hurts, Zach." He can tell that I'm about to cry, though. He's my best friend, after all. He opens his arms and spreads his legs, allowing me to stand in front of him and rest my forehead on his shoulder while he gently wraps his arms around me.

"I know, Jonnie. I know." A warm mouth pressing a chaste kiss to my collarbone. "It'll go away. It'll go away."

I sniffle. "I'm sorry," I murmur against his white shirt. "I know that I'm not the only one who had the worst day ever-"

"Hey, no." He pulls away slightly, forcing me to look in his eyes. "Yeah, today sucked for everybody. But you're the one who got hurt." His hand slides across my cheek, tangling in my wet hair. "It's okay," he mutters. His voice is so tender. "Now turn around. I'll help you with your bra."