It Started with a Bet... (Watty Awards 2011)

the morning after

the morning after

It's warm. Warm and bright. I stir slowly under the covers, blinking as my eyes focus. There are arms around my waist, a head curled against my back. Odd, considering Trevor's taller than me.

"Trevor?" his mom will not be pleased. He stirs slowly, then jumps when he realizes that he's cuddled up to me.

"I was keeping you away from the knives," he says quickly, blushing.

"Thanks." I sit up and start moving towards the edge of the bed. I'm still wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I want to go home and get washed and changed. A hand reaches out and grabs my arm.

"Haley, I'm sorry." I turn to look at him.

"For what?"

"For overreacting. I just…I mean…” he sighs. “I thought we were friends." He whispers the word hesitantly, as though ashamed. “And it….hurt. To think that you were faking the whole time.” I look at him in surprise.

"You missed me?" I ask, astounded.  He blushes.

"Of course! Sometimes I feel like you're the only one who doesn't judge me or expect anything from me. I feel like I can be myself around you."

I think back to our two weeks on beanbags and laps. It was rather uneventful, really. I don't recall him doing anything special or out of the ordinary. Then again, half the time my energy was spent on being friendly for him.

"I don't expect anything from anyone," I say truthfully, still pondering as to when he was himself and when he was the Trevor everyone else wanted him to be.

"Stay for breakfast," Trevor says as I start moving off the bed again. I nod absentmindedly.

Now I feel like I'm cheating. Like I'm hurting Trevor in some way by not being myself around him, by not caring enough to pay attention to his 'real' self.

"Good morning!" Trevor's mom says cheerily as we enter the kitchen. "Have a seat, we made pancakes." it surprises me to see Trevor's dad in the kitchen as well, manning one of the frying pans. He and his wife are wearing matching pink aprons. I giggle without thinking. Maybe I should come over more often. A family like this makes me feel almost...normal.

We sit down to eat, but soon the friendly move turns somber.

“Haley, we were talking last night,” Trevor’s mom gestures between herself and her husband. Oh dear. This can’t be good. I squirm uncomfortably in their seat.

“We were thinking it would be a good idea if we discussed what happened last night with your parents,” Trevor’s dad explains. “I’m sure they would like to be informed.”

“I…” I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain this to them. “I’d rather you not.”

Trevor’s mom reaches forward to pat my arm. “Honey, I understand that you’re scared, but you have to realize that you can’t do this on your own. It’s best to get help.”

The word ‘help’ makes me jump in my chair. Trevor’s mom retracts her hand in shock.

“No.” The word is strong, but on the inside I’m shaking. Why? Why is this emotional turmoil happening to me now?As long as I ignore it, leave it all locked away in a box in the back of my brain, I’m fine. Just one stupid night where I let go and I’m going to be sent to the therapist again.

Just thinking the word ‘therapist’ makes me shiver and the memories start to leak out of their box again. God damnit.

“N-no. No, thank you.” I’m standing now, my voice shaking. God damnit. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

Trevor’s mom opens her mouth to insist, but her husband stops her. “Okay, Haley. That’s fine. We were just worried. But if you say you’re okay….” he shares a glance with his wife as I sit back down.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Trevor’s mom speaks again.