trashmouth [r. tozier]

0.8

chapter eight
"nothing, trashmouth"

RYAN WAS awoken by pure sunlight hitting her face. her body was cold and frigid to the touch—yet, last she remembered before she had fallen asleep, was it being rather warm. a hazy memory of two teenagers curled up on a forbidden bed together filled her foggy mind. ryan smiled as she remembered richie and the way they had acted the pervious night.

the day before was surely not the best for the girl, though ryan now couldn't imagine what she would have done without her new friends. they had acquired more information about her than her family had in less than 24 hours.

ryan continued to lay in the king sized bed thinking about all of the events that took place the day before. she let out a heavy yet content sigh as she rolled over onto her back. ryan then head a slight knock on the old wooden door.

"yeah?" ryan yelled out before raising her head to be able to look at the door.

"ryan?" a voice called our hesitantly. "it's stan," she heard the muffled voice through the door.

"oh— come on in!" ryan said cheerfully as she sat up fully.

the door knob began to turn, and in walked stan. he was dressed in a clean pair of khaki colored shorts, and a light blue polo shirt, though his hair was still messed up from sleeping on it the night before. the crazy curls made ryan smile.
she reached out to fix a strand of stan's  hair that was sticking up into the air, and she gently tucked it behind his ear.

"what's up, stan the man?" ryan recalled the nickname she had heard richie call stan. she took her hand back from his hair and placed it into her lap.

"well, all of us were going to pick up beverly and then go hang out at the lake. is that alright with you?" he asked. the way stan spoke made ryan feel so comfortable. his speech patterns, delicate dialect and the way his voice curved around questions was one of its own, and ryan found it beautifully unique. stan's voice seemed to wrap around her like her very own security blanket, and she never wish to loose it.

"yeah—of course!" ryan beamed, then left her eyes fall down to the baggy, borrowed clothing she wore to bed. "oh, but stan," she paused and held back a laugh. "i think im going to need my clothes."

"awe damn," stan whispered under his breathe. "you're right— but ryan you know i can't let you go back there...not to that house," stan's tone suddenly changed to a serious one. his smile dropped slightly to let the girl in front him know that he was serious.

"what am i suppose to do then?" ryan questioned as she propped herself up on her knees. "wear your boxers around town?"

"well of course not," stan laughed then thought for a moment. "oh! maybe richie's sister will let you borrow something," stan finally stated. "he is the only one of us with a sister," stan paused as he eyed the girl in front of him. "and she's around your size too."