H2O | ✔

Chapter Twenty-Three : Bad Thoughts On Ice

"And my affection, well it comes and goes

I need direction to perfection, no no no no"

Xander

11 weeks after Mesi woke up...

It was Saturday and I had nothing to do. I was bored out of my mind, sick of re-reading the same books, re-watching the same shows and re-listening to the same music. Everything just felt so old. I wanted something new, something exciting to do.

So before I knew it, I was calling Mesi. "Hey, Mesi. Um, it's me—Xander. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?" I realized I should probably have some sort of excuse for seeing her. I mean, I didn't even know why I wanted to see her—other than the fact that she was nice and an old friend...sort of...but a normal person would have a reason, right? "Maybe I could, uh, tell you more about Sam while we do something?" I knew I sounded really unsure of myself, but, well, I was unsure of myself. I still had no idea whether telling Mesi about Sam was a good idea or not. One second it seemed genius and the next I felt like I was just bringing her down.

"Yeah, I'd love to! What time?" Mesi exclaimed through the phone. She seemed pretty excited about the idea of spending time together, and that made me both excited myself and uneasy.

I bit my lip, blushing as I said,"Now? I'm not really doing anything and—"

Mesi interrupted my most likely rambling sentence. "I'll be right over."

The phone beeped in my ear, telling me she'd hung up and really was on her way. I sighed, glad she had saved me from the embarrassment of tripping over my words trying to explain why she should come over right then without sounding like a loner. Then again, I kind of was a loner. I had no one better to call and talk to than my dead best friend's girlfriend who didn't remember him or me from that time. Wow, life was complicated.

I glanced around my room, realizing for the first time just how messy it was. There was a moment of horror where I thought about what Mesi would do if she saw it in such a state before I jumped into action. I was throwing clothes in drawers they didn't belong in, the hamper when they weren't dirty, and random plastic bags lying around that I stuffed in the closet. Trash was hurled in the trash bin from across the room and books were carelessly stashed on the bookshelf in whatever position they managed to stand still in. In a whole of about five minutes, my room looked clean. Now, as long as Mesi didn't open the closet door to find clothes falling on her, or look in the dresser to see the crumpled lumps of random attire, or upset the fragile balance of the books on my shelf, all would be well.

As long as she didn't do any of those things.

The doorbell rang below me and I scrambled to make it downstairs, slipping and sliding on slick hardwood floors in my mismatched black and green socks. I could never find a matching pair. It was like the mates to the ones I had left just up and disappeared.

I flung the door open, out of breath for some reason, chest breathing and cheeks flushed. Mesi stared at me, eyes wide, looking more surprised and—nervous?—than the amusement I expected her to show. I know I would've laughed my ass off if I saw myself exasperated from a quick trip down the stairs. I was the captain of the soccer team, I wasn't supposed to be exasperated!

"Hey," was my brilliant thing to say. Really, how was I not an award-winning speech-giver yet? Is that even a thing? I thought so. Not a politician, but just someone who gives speeches. Just speeches, on random topics. I made a mental note to look it up later.