Whatever Floats your Boat

Chapter Twenty-Two

Daaamn Georgie, how many chapters in a night? I know, I'm crazy or something! I just finished writing a report today and I was so happy I put time aside for  WEFYB. Be proud ;-) I hope you enjoy the chapter, the next few should be up soon. Hope you all have a great day lovelies xx

Copyright © Georgie E. - Fruitea on Wattpad  

Chapter 22

"Flipping hell," I grunted as I shook out my hand again.

"Yeah, well you should stop going around bitch slapping people." Kyle was trying to keep up his infuriating disappointed facade, but even I could hear the humour and pride in his voice. "Gosh, you put your number on her didn't you?"

I shrugged, pressing my thumb against the palms of my hand. Why wasn't the pain receding?

Naiad had stayed in stunned silence for all of two seconds before she started screaming. She had flounced off soon after with her friends running behind her. We had all been left in stunned silence, one that had only been broken with my exclamation.

"Well I'd better go, my coach will be going sick if I'm not back soon."

"Woah-woah." My arm was taken and I was pulled back. It was Kyle.

"You need to go and see Kendal," Tahoe told me. "Right now, he's on the boat."

"I don't need to do anything."

"He's on his boat," Tahoe said simply.

~~~

Needless to say it didn't take me long to make up some excuse to Ian so I could drop onto the deck of Kendal's boat. It swayed under my feet, something that couldn't have gone unnoticed to its owner but he didn't appear from the cabin.

The deck was deserted as was the port it was docked to. The boats involved in racing today had been shifted closer to the event, only two spaces down I could see Beck's boat ready and waiting for me and him to board any time soon.

Realising that I only had half an hour before we would be tacking up, I opened the door to the cabin. Again, there was no response and I climbed down into the main space. On the hob a kettle was boiling, run dry and squealing; a mug was next to it with coffee stains around the rim. On the floor pillows were strewn as was a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and socks and on the bed, underneath layers and layers of twisted blankets, was Kendal.

Taking the final steps to the bed another noise became distinctive; sniffling.

It was heart breaking hearing that noise, spotting the shaking which was nothing to do with cold – with that amount of covers and the temperature in the mid-twenties – and the way he wasn't even bothered enough to take the kettle from the hob.

So I moved the kettle onto the cooling mat, the whistling dropping. I stood, watching the steam recede, my hands bracing the top. I needed the support of the furnishings, there was something running in my mind so obscene I think my knees would have given out.

Because I was heartbroken by the noise. And the reasons behind this empty feeling had nothing to do with a friend being hurt. No, it was because he wouldn't be like this if it was me in Naiad's place. I placed my hands on my head, sighing deeply before turning back towards Kendal.

He was still yet to respond.

Silence fell with the kettle's whistling, the only sound noticeable was Kendal's hiccupping. My steps echoed with each creak as I made the way to his bed.