A small favor was not anything I minded doing, especially for a friend. Even if that meant taking the public bus an hour and a half away to Seattle. Even if that meant standing outside a house that was a million times nicer than anywhere I could ever hope to live. But I really wished I had dressed accordingly.
It had been about two weeks since the party, and it was now well into September. The temperature had been taking a rapid decline the past week, and I knew that I should have brought a jacket with me. But the only jacket I owned was showcasing multiple holes and looked as though it was twenty years into a very rough life, which it very well could have been considering I had picked it up for only a couple bucks at a used clothes store last year. I begrudgingly acknowledged that it was time for a new one, and sighed when I thought about how much my living expenses were about to increase with the change of the seasons.
I let out a shiver as I debated whether I should knock or call Daniel to let him know I was here. He had been sick the last few days and had missed a lot of classes because of it, so I had offered to bring him his work and even try to explain some of the topics of our shared class if he felt up to it. However, the last time I talked to him on the phone he had cut the call abruptly, but not before I heard the noise of throwing up, so I highly doubted he would really be feeling up to it.
I decided to call him, realizing that he was probably in bed and might not hear my knocking on the door, especially in a house this size. I pulled out my phone from my pocket, which was getting dangerously close to dead, and dialed his number quickly.
"Hey Paisley," Daniel groaned, his throat scratchy and congested.
"Hey Daniel, I'm here with your stuff," I explained quickly, really hoping that my phone wouldn't die in the middle of our conversation.
"Oh okay, you can just walk in, I told them to leave the door unlocked. I'm on the second floor, first door on the left. See ya in a few," he said, ending the call before I really had the chance to respond. I wondered who them was, but decided overthinking it would only get me more anxious about barging into his house.
Stop being awkward Paisley, he literally just told you to walk inside.
I let out a sigh and opened the door slowly, warm air greeting me as I walked in, and tried not to gasp at the sight of the inside. It was incredibly nice, and only made me more insecure of the fact that Daniel had seen the outside of my apartment. To the left of me was the kitchen and living room, an abundant area that was larger than my apartment as a whole. Granite countertops, flatscreens, and couches that looked like a couple months worth of rent were all adorning the area. Whoever had decorated had done well, because I felt as though I had walked straight out of my life and into a movie.
I looked to my right to see the staircase and realized I should probably stop staring before I was caught exposing how out of place I truly was. I headed up the stairs and went straight to Daniel's room, where the door happened to be cracked open. I knocked gently before entering.
"Um h-hi," I stuttered, mentally chastising myself for being so embarrassing.
"Hey dork," he smiled, but I could tell that it was a little forced.
"I'm not a dork," I mumbled in response, my cheeks heating up at his nickname that he had been calling me recently.
"Mhm," he replied sarcastically, letting out a horrible cough in the process.
He laid in the middle of his bed, surrounded by empty popsicle wrappers, water bottles and blankets. Used tissues and a bucket sat on the floor and I made a mental note to keep as much distance between me and that area as possible.
"Daniel you look-"
"Like a goddamn model, and don't you dare say anything but," he cut me off, and even though I could tell that he most likely felt horrible, I was glad that he had kept his sense of humor. I couldn't help but giggle at his comment as I set down the papers on his desk.
"So, how are you feeling?" I asked him, curious how sick he actually was.
"Like absolute shit honestly. I guess I caught that bug going around campus, but the doctor said it should go away within the week," he explained, grabbing a water to take a small sip.
"Well it seems that you've got quite the setup here," I chuckled, gesturing to all of the food and drink remnants around the room.
"Yeah, Mia's been helping me survive. Which I wouldn't have done without popsicles...obviously," he grinned and I laughed. I had talked to him frequently since we went to the party, and he was really nice company to have. It was nice to have a good friend, someone that I could spend time with instead of being locked up in my apartment. I had to admit that I was starting to get really lonely since I'd moved out. Not that my mother had ever offered any type of loving company, or really anything but bruises and scars, but I knew I shouldn't judge her - she's been through a lot.
"Thanks again for driving out here to bring me my work," he told me, and I realized that he had made the assumption that I own a car. I didn't think he meant anything by it, most people at our college owned a car, I even think Wyatt and Sam had one they shared. However, I hardly had the funds to have running water, let alone a vehicle. I didn't even want to think about how much that would cost.
"It's no problem," I replied, deciding against telling him that I had to take the bus. The fact that he lived in a place like this and I couldn't even afford a car made me embarrassed. I knew he would probably find out at some point, but if I could delay the inevitable, then I would do so gladly. Plus, I didn't want him to feel bad when he was already sick.
Suddenly, his smile that he had been wearing started to fade as he grasped his stomach. I watched as he suddenly turned towards the bucket, retching violently, and I turned my back to him in an effort to give him some type of privacy.
"I know I said we could maybe go over notes-"
I cut him off and turned back around before he finished, "You're sick Daniel, and obviously not feeling good. I can, well if you want me to, I can come back the day after tomorrow and go over it with you. But I don't want to, um, invite myself or anything."
"Shut up dork, you're obviously welcome," he joked, yet his eyes were scrunched shut in obvious anguish.
"I'm not a dork," I laughed.
"You definitely are. I'll see you Sunday," he countered, his raspy voice sounding sleep-deprived.
"See you then," I said quietly, slipping out of his room and shutting the door. I hoped that he would be able to get some sleep and fluids in the next two days, he looked pretty miserable. Plus, watching people throw up had always made me queasy.
I began making my way down the staircase when I heard footsteps behind me, piquing my curiosity. I slowed down and looked behind me, my eyes widening in surprise.
"What are you doing here?" Dax asked me, more surprised than spiteful, but definitely some of that too.
"Oh, um, w-well I was just bringing Daniel his work. You know, since he's sick and all," I said, my voice fading off towards the end as we made our descent down the stairs.
"He couldn't have waited?" he asked, his tone somewhat judgemental, but I wasn't sure what of.
"I don't think he wanted to get behind and I didn't mind so..." I trailed off, not sure what else to really say.
"So are you guys like a thing or something then?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
"What? No, no definitely not," I said, my cheeks flushing bright red as we reached the door, and I realized that he must be leaving too.
"Wait, where is your car?" he asked me as we stepped outside, the sun low in the sky as the light of day was beginning to fade.
"Oh, um, I took the bus," I answered, wishing I could have kept that to myself, especially as I looked at the sports car he had just unlocked with his keys.
"You took the bus? All the way from - wait how far away are you?" he questioned, his left eyebrow raising slightly.
"I live in Bothell, the bus ride is about an hour and a half," I explained, confused why he was so surprised.
"You're unbelievable," he said, he had told me the same thing the night of the party, and I still wasn't sure what he couldn't believe about me.
"I was just trying to be helpful," I responded, trying to defend my choice. He let out a humorless chuckle, and ran his hand through his hair, almost as if he was deciding something. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.
"Well, get in," he said, opening up his car door to get in the driver's seat.
"W-what?"
"Get in the car," he explained as he started up the engine.
"U-um why, if you don't mind me asking?"
"You think I'm going to make you ride the bus an hour and a half, especially when it's about to be dark and you're alone," he pronounced, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's really, really nice of you but you don't need to go out of your way, seriously. I'll just take the bus home," I told him, taking a step away from the car.
"Paisley, stop, it's fine. I was going to Bothell tomorrow anyways." he argued, his tone becoming frustrated. I wondered why he was so adamant that I didn't ride the bus, why he suddenly seemed to care about anything that had to do with me.
"Don't make me drag you in the car," he threatened, and though I knew he was probably joking, something in his face made me think that he was considering it.
"O-okay," I yielded, walking up to the passenger door to get into the car. We pulled out of the driveway quickly, and started to make our way towards my apartment. A few minutes of silence passed before he broke it.
"Paisley, you don't have to be so tense, I'm not going to murder you," Dax suddenly stated, glancing towards my body that was angeled towards the door.
"Sorry," I blurted out, hoping I hadn't offended him.
"Why do you always do that?" he asked me, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was suddenly talking to me with curiosity instead of irritation today.
"What?" I asked him.
"Apologize for every single thing you do," he said, glancing into my eyes briefly before focusing back on the road.
"I-I guess I just want to make sure that I don't hurt anyone's feelings," I explained, which was true, but I knew it was more than that. I knew that when for the past ten years you've been told that every word, every movement, everything you do is wrong, that you start to get used to apologizing for it all.
"I'm pretty sure there's no way that you are going to hurt anyone's feelings," he remarked, bringing a small smile to my lips at the statement.
"What?" he asked in response to my grin, peering at me from the driver's seat.
"I just don't think you're as mean and bad as you try to make people think you are," I said quietly.
"Well, then you'd be the first," he responded, his lips tilted downwards slightly, almost as if he was recalling a memory.
"Dax, you hardly know me and you've helped me twice now. Doesn't seem so mean to me," I contended, hoping to pull his mind away from whatever thoughts were currently plaguing it.
"You forget about all the times I'm a dick to you," he declared so bluntly that I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"You're not a... y-you know... you're just a little...rough around the edges sometimes," I insist, and the words evoke a chuckle from Dax, causing my stomach to do all sorts of flips. That's twice tonight that I've heard him laugh, not a true laugh of course, but still. I wondered why it affected me like that, why I cared so much.
"Says the girl that's nice to a fault," he remarks.
"I-I don't really think being nice is a fault," I whispered more to myself than him, but I must have said it louder than I intended.
"You're full of opinions once you actually start talking huh?" he smirked, and I shrugged bashfully, maybe I was being incredibly annoying and talking his ear off. Then, almost as if he could sense my insecurity, he mumbled.
"You should talk more," causing a fierce blush creep onto my cheeks. I turned my head towards the window in attempts to hide my reaction. It seemed that neither of us knew what to say after that, and I wondered if he regretted saying anything at all. Or if he really meant it.
"You think your opinions fucking matter?" she screamed, the alcohol in her hand spilling out of the glass bottle. I bit my lip, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over; sometimes it seemed as though they only encouraged her more.
"You think you fucking matter?" she cried, throwing the glass bottle at me but missing, it shattered onto the wall, the contents inside long gone. I wondered what she would regret more tomorrow morning - our encounter or the alcohol she wasted. I shook away the thought, because I already knew the answer. She stomped in my direction and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me so close that I could smell the tequila in her breath. I let out a whimper in pain.
"Everything you say and everything you do, it's all pathetic," she slurred, backhanding me hard enough that I fell to the floor, right onto the glass and slicing my hand open. Was that true? Papa had always told me that everybody was important, but he wasn't here anymore, he had been gone for a long time now. And I couldn't help but think that maybe things had changed since then, that maybe I really wasn't important anymore.
"Know your fucking place, and know that I'll drink as much as I damn well please," she spat, kicking me in the stomach before stomping out the door and into the night.
"Where do I turn?" Dax suddenly asked, ripping me from the memory. He caught me off-guard, and I shook my head to clear the thoughts that had been taking over. I gave him the directions he needed to get to my apartment and soon enough we were there. The sun had officially set, and I couldn't help but feel that the darkness had a personal vendetta against me. When really, I knew it was the other way around.
"This is it," I said as he slowed to a stop. Bright lights were illuminating sporadically through the windows of the residents, and sure enough I saw Wyatt and Sam's light on. It was a Friday, so I assumed they had company over, and I was somewhat grateful for that I supposed. I really didn't feel like trying to sleep tonight, not like I ever did, but it was harder when a memory like that resurfaced. There was only so much I could take in a day before I broke.
I reached into my pocket to find a ten dollar bill, knowing it was the money I planned on using to get myself something other than ramen to eat this weekend. I quietly sighed, there were multiple flavors, I would survive. I set the cash down on Dax's dashboard and opened the passenger door to exit.
"Thank you again for the ride, you really didn't have to. I think that should cover the gas," I smiled, stepping out of the car, but suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. I turned around to see Dax holding my arm, preventing me from leaving the car.
"You're not paying me for gas Paisley, dear God," he muttered, grabbing the money and placing back into my hand.
"But-"
"Drop it Paisley," he warned, obviously getting irritated. I thought about insisting, because I knew I would feel guilty otherwise, but whatever I was about to say was lost when I saw the way he was looking at me. His eyes were searching my face intently, and I wasn't sure what he was hoping to find, but I knew it probably wouldn't be anything good. My cheeks burned red once again as I dipped my head down, not having the confidence to meet his gaze.
"T-thanks again," I whispered, breaking the silence. He suddenly dropped my arm and looked away. His features tightened, his lips forming a straight line and his eyes gaining back their edge.
"You should get inside, it's getting late," he spoke, reminding me of the inevitable, and I exited the car.
"I'll, um, I'll see you around," I said, the money in my hand felt like a weight holding me in place. Reluctantly, I walked away from his car and made my way to the glass door. It was already unlocked since the automatic lock had broken about a month ago, so I entered quickly, trying to keep out the cold evening air. Turning around, I saw that Dax was still sitting outside in his car across the street. I gave him a wave, but it was too dark for me to see if he waved back. He drove away, and I couldn't help but wonder why he had sat there before leaving, but I knew any questions involving Dax would probably remain unanswered.
I didn't sleep at all that night. Lying awake, I told myself it was because of the loathsome flashback I had experienced in the car or the yelling next door, and that it had nothing to do with blue eyes I couldn't seem to stop thinking about.