Project Smile

Seventeen

I pull up to Pete's house, killing the engine and stepping out of my car. Then I quickly grab my bag before heading up to his front door and tapping my knuckles against the door. There are a few shuffling noises before it finally opens and reveals my friend with a small smile on his face, even though I can see the fading tear tracks on his face. The dreams must be really bad, because I know that my friend hardly ever cries. "Hey," he greets me, leaning against the door a little.

   "Hey," I say, smiling a little and trying to ignore the tearstains. He'd hate it if he knew that I knew exactly how upset he is. "I'm sorry I was late. It was an emergency situation."

   "That's alright." He opens the door wider, allowing me in. "You can set your bag down anywhere. I apparently have the house to myself for the entire weekend. Mom called and said that she had somewhere to be for work, and she probably won't make it back until Sunday night." I look at him for a moment, biting my lip and imagining what the rest of the weekend would've looked like for him had he not allowed me to come over. He would've been sitting in the house all alone with his phone on mute, staring at a blank television screen with all of the lights out, while his thoughts would turn into overthinking until they would become absolutely unbearable. The image breaks my heart. And the part that hurts me the most is that by looking at him, by the way most of the lights in the house are already out and the way that the television is already going into power-saving mode and he's done nothing to stop it, Pete was already about halfway into being in that state.

   As I head over to stop the television from turning off, my phone buzzes in my front pocket. Quickly, I pull it out, expecting it to be Gabriel. Instead, it's Wren, telling me that he got home a couple minutes ago, which is just as relieving. I thank her and stick the phone back into my pocket before turning back to Pete, who is now sitting down on the couch, looking at his own phone with a smile on his face. Then he looks up at me. "Are you hungry? Do you want to go to Sonic?"

   I roll my eyes and laugh a little. "Pete, you know that Sonic isn't the only restaurant in existence, right?"

   "I know. It's just really good. And I get a discount on the food." He shrugs a little, his grin growing a little wider. "So why not?"

   "Don't you get tired of eating it sometimes? Or become afraid that you'll eat too much of it? Because you're basically stuck eating it four times a week, Pete."

   He feigns offense, placing a hand against his chest. "Are you saying that I'm fat?" He rubs his stomach a little, attempting to look down at it sadly before his grin wins over again.

   "No, Pete, you're one of the skinniest people I know," I say, finally giving in. "Now get in the car. We're going to Sonic." He fist pumps the air for a moment happily before getting up and beginning to head to his room. "Pete, you're not grabbing your freaking CDs!"

   "Why not?" he whines, looking over the staircase and pouting at me. Sometimes I swear that my best friend is still about five years old. 

   We hold each other's gazes for a moment defiantly before I finally speak. "Okay, you can get something like Luke Bryan or Florida Georgia Line. But Wiz Khalifa, any pop, or any of that country-rap is where I draw the line." His footsteps are frantic as he runs up the stairs. I hear him calling loudly a moment later.

   "What about Katy Perry?"

   "No!"

   "Macklemore?"

   "Heck no!"

   "Taylor Swift?"

   "You need to set fire to that entire collection before I do it for you!" I joke.