"How'd it go?" He asked.
Shawn was currently sprawled across my bed. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but at the same time looked like he belonged. It was kind of like one of those photos taken in London where it is black and white except the red telephone booth. He just fit perfectly.
"They were very inquisitive," I say, remembering the moment I had entered Dylan's living room. Jay poked and prodded at my ribs, testing my tolerance with the pain. They were getting progressively better, but not that well. Then it was ordinary, the same repeated questions asked again, this time from familiar voices that still sounded unfamiliar. I felt like I was disconnected somehow. Jay and Dylan sat on one sofa and I on the other, when we would all sit on the same couch with Dylan in the middle. Something had changed.
"I'm sure they were just worried." Shawn says, his arm tossed on top of his eyes to block out any sort of light.
I sigh, "Maybe."
Silence enveloped the room.
I made my way to the bay window, my current novel clutched to my chest. Of course, I had to read several chapters back due to my memory lapse, but I didn't mind.
It was dark out, but my lamp held a dim glow that was almost ominous. It was kind of creepy, really. Shawn was just laying there, the shadows on him sharp.
If I didn't hear him slightly humming, I would've assumed he was asleep.
I try to focus on my book, but my mind kept drifting back to my visit at Dylan's. I couldn't help it. The whole situation seemed odd. Stolen glances, restless movements, awkward pauses were all the clues I needed to know something was wrong or at least different. They were my friends, I expected them to tell me what was going on.
"Nothing," Jay had said. The sympathetic look he had given me told me otherwise though. There had been something different in the way he moved, and looked. He wore a maroon sweater and dark jeans whenever I was there, but he never wore sweaters before. Only hoodies or some type of athletic jacket. His movements seemed a bit more cautious than normal, like he was avoiding something. It bugged me that they were obviously trying to hide something. What could it be?
"Stop thinking." I hear Shawn say. I raise my right brow at him.
"You've been staring at that same page for a few minutes now."
"Oh." I respond. I am not sure what else to say. I didn't even know he was watching me, his eyes still hidden beneath his arm. Or at least that's what I could see.
I'm not sure what the matter was, everything is going great in my opinion. Apparently that wasn't the case in Jen's mind. Her posture was so stiff, I could see it from where I lay on her bed.
I shift my position, now laying back against the wall on her bed. Her bed was unbelievably comfortable, and it smelled of her- of honey and brown sugar. It was intoxicating, but I love it all the same.
"You should've seen how awkward it was." Jen says. She ran a hand through her long hair before that same hand ran along her arm. It was a motion that spelled out stress and uncertainty. It was also a motion I was getting used to.
Now that I thought about it, if I payed close enough attention, I could read Jen. Her body, the way she moved, communicated everything I needed to know. The way she was curled on the bay window seat told me that she felt small. And the book cluthed to her chest? I guarantee that is her drug- it tranfers her from this world into that one, a special place where everything went right and you were left wanting more.
YOU ARE READING
Forget Me Not [Original]Fanfiction
In the process of being rewritten "Some people say that the first thing you forget about a person is their voice. If that's the case, then I don't think I'll ever forget his."