Sleeping With Ghosts

#6

Layne:

18th of September

I hadn't ever been so mortified as when my mother started interrogating Kurt. I'd bet she did it professionally in a past life.

The fact that he offered up the information so easily perplexed me. But his answer was a sign of hope. I felt as if I was floating.
Then he suggested watch a movie.

"Yeah, I know where the box of movies is," I stood off of the stool and gestured for him to follow.

In my room, I unearthed the box of movies. If anything were to happen to any of these DVDs I'd be more devastated then if I had a dog that died. "So," I said, "What do you want to watch."

"You choose, I can't be bothered," he flopped face down onto my mattress.

I rummaged through my extensive collection, thinking action? Maybe. Adventure? Nah. Comedy? No. Drama? Nope.

"How about..." I pulled a much loved case from the bottom of the mountainous pile, "Have you ever seen pulp fiction?"

"Nope."

"What?! You haven't seen Pulp Fiction? Man, that's shameful, we gotta watch it," I declared.

I inserted the disc into the DVD player, the only other thing that I'd set up in my room.

"How long ago did you move here?" He asked, rolling over and sitting up.

"Just before school started. I haven't gotten around to unpacking anything." I said.

He surveyed the room, "Obviously." He brushed his fingers through his messy mid-neck length hair. I wished they were my own fingers. His blonde locks looked so soft.

"How does your hand feel?" I asked, Dragging my eyes away from his face.

"It's alright. Better since you stitched it up."
I nodded. Trying not to dwell in the surprisingly not-awkward silence between us, I started the movie.

Around mid way through, we were confronted with the most uncomfortable scene in the movie. I tugged Kurt by the arm out of the room.

"That scene is really disturbing, let's see if there are any other snacks in the kitchen," I said all in a rush. The floorboards moaned as we clattered down the stairs.

"Okay," it sounded almost like a question but he didn't say anything more.

Mom was sitting at the counter tapping messages into her iPhone. She sipped absent-mindedly on a cup of tea and didn't look up when we entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom, is there anything else to eat?" I asked.

She lifted her head like she'd had no idea we were there. "Mm, no, nothing for snacks anyway." Her eyes floated down to where I was still gripping Kurt's arm. I quickly let go and tucked my hand in my pocket.

I sighed, turning to him, "Do you want coffee?"

He smiled, "Yeah thanks."

"Sugar?" I collected two mugs.

"No thanks, I'm sweet enough," a flirtatious quality had entered his voice.

My stomach flipped and decided to strangle itself, but I giggled a very unmanly giggle all the same.

My Mom made a sound of amusement into her own mug before setting it down. "What time do you have to be back by, Kurt?"

He shrugged, "When I go to Dave's house my parents let me stay until 9 but I can go early if you want?"