SCARLETT'S POV:
"Sierra I'm home!" I yell the words out as if I live in the largest apartment known to man. I round the corner, walking into the living room and just as I do I see Sierra jumping over the back of the couch, sprawling herself out. I spent the majority of my day with Jimothy. After my run in with the unwanted I tried to study, and draw him out of my mind and after hours of drawing I realized Jimothy was starting to look like Harry, and I had to shut it down. Sierra doesn't normally leave the house during the day so I know she was here the entire time.
Sierra is only two years younger than me, but she's vastly different. At 22 I was still in school, I had one friend, and hated the world. The main difference is that I was healthy. She's 22, has so many friends I don't know how she can keep up, and she seems to be the happiest person I know despite the issues that live inside of her.
"Did you finally meet Jimothy?" She asks, and I sigh, throwing my bag on the ground with a loud thud.
"Jimothy doesn't exist dip shit." I sigh, moving her over so I can sit down on the uncomfortable, horribly colored couch I found on the side of the road.
"What's wrong, besides the fact that it's Wednesday?" She asks, already comforting me because she knows me so well.
"Well our roommate is gone, meaning I have no way to pay the bills. Also I saw Harry Styles today." I drop the second bomb, knowing she probably heard me yelling at our roommate as she left this morning.
"Did you just say Harry Styles? As in your best friend Harry Styles?" She asks, sitting herself up quicker than she should.
"Did you just completely ignore the fact that I have no way to pay rent. Or-"
"Yeah, yeah we'll get to that in a second. Back to dreamboat Styles." She waves her hands manically, and I roll my eyes.
"He walked into Jimothy's and got his same order, and I looked up, and it was him, and he saw me, and we spoke." I cross my arms over my chest, and look forward.
"And what did you speak about. Come on, give me something, anything. A scrap, a morsel of information. Did you have sex in the bathroom? That would be a great story." I close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I swear I cannot handle her.
"No we didn't have sex. Our relationship has never been like that. Literally ever. He was my best friend, that is it. As for the conversation, it was awkward, and stiff, and I hated every second of it, including the part where he said 'We should do this again on purpose' because he knew he had to say that because it's been a few years, and he knows nothing about my life anymore, or yours or anyone's." I shake my head, feeling a bit defeated.
"Okay, I'm hearing you. Everything you're saying is completely valid. I get it, I do..."
"But?" I ask, feeling it coming.
"But I cannot fathom the person we knew to only ask you back out because he felt bad." I watch her now, looking at her face just to see how she's reacting to this.
"He's not the person he was back then. It's been years Sierra, there's no way he hasn't changed. What if he's a major fuckboy, player, asshole? I don't know what job he has, I don't know if he's back for school. I don't know if he's leaving again. I know nothing, which is why-"
"You should go. Get answers, ask questions. Find new ground to stand on. Hey I'm your little sister, shouldn't you be giving me advice on life?" She asks me, shoving my shoulder back.
"No actually. You have a very put together life, I don't. My life is a fucking trainwreck Sierra." I throw my head back, and she shrugs.
"Yeah, my life is put together. Minus the chronic illness, and crippling medical bills." She shrugs, and I sigh.
"Well the medical bills are mom and dad's fault. Because they should always help their kids but our parents suck. So now your medical bills are partially my fault because I should definitely have more money at my age. But I also suck." I explain.
"We'll figure it out." She shrugs, and pushes herself off of the couch, taking extra time to stand fully.
"When is your next appointment?" I ask, knowing it has to be coming anytime now.
"Hmmm. Probably this week." She shrugs, pushing it off.
"Sierra, you-"
"I'm about to go out, do you want to come?" She asks me, and I shake my head.
"No but Sierra you have to-"
"I know Scarlett. I promise you I'm going to go, you can even come with me if you really want to. I'm changing and leaving now though." She tells me, and I sigh, feeling defeated once more. I walk through the entryway of the kitchen, still seeing all of the living room and front door as I do. Within minutes Sierra walks back out, and she wears a shimmery shirt that hangs on her. It looks good, and shows off her scar as usual. She never seems to hide the scar right in the center of her chest, she always wants to show it off and I praise her for it. She looks so good, it's unfair.
"I'll see you tonight." She calls out as she walks to the door. "I love you Scar!" She yells behind her, and is out the door before I can reply. Looking at the door, my eyes start to travel, really taking in the look of the apartment. I wish it was nicer, but you get what you pay for I guess? Living in California can really make or break a person... I'm the break. No matter what job I work I feel the constant push from the city, and I feel the pull of my rent, and I feel the pressure everywhere. Sierra can't work, not now anyways... So it's all on me because our rude roommate decided no more.
We scored this three bedroom for the price we did because it's above an old Korean restaurant, and it constantly smells like fish. No seriously, we can never get rid of the smell, no matter how many candles we haul in here. Yes there are roaches, yes it even came with holes in the walls. But, it is home now. And it disgusts me more and more everyday. I reach into the white fridge that creaks every time I touch it and sigh as I pull out a bud light. I hate shitty beer. But I'm desperate for a drink right now and this is all I've got. Maybe that's part of the reason I love desperation so much, because I'm filled to the brim with it.
Desperate for other options. Desperate for a better job. Desperate for these classes to pay off. Desperate for my degree to pay off. Desperate to prove my parents wrong. Desperate for something more so my sister. Desperate for a friend besides my framed picture of Jimothy that hangs next to my non-existent TV because I can't afford to pay a cable bill right now. Desperate for- My phone to not ring right now so I can wallow in self pity all by myself.
"Hello, no I do not want to extend my car's warranty. Thanks for asking though." I sigh into the phone as I answer the call from the unknown number.
"Not calling about that actually." I hear the deep British accent, and I sigh again. Well fucking great.
"I wish you were, that would make this phone call a lot more welcome." I speak under my breath, knowing he heard it.
"You'd rather talk about your car warranty than talk to me?" He asks, and I can't tell if he's laughing at his words or if he's holding his feelings behind the harsh words in.
"I don't even have a car... but yes actually I would." I cross my arms, and I hear him laugh now, and I get a twisting feeling in my stomach as I hear it again. I haven't heard his laugh in so long, and just now I remember how comforting it was.
"Good to know you still hate me just the same as you did two years ago... What are you doing right now Scarlett?" He asks me, and I take a drink of my beer.
"Drinking shitty beer, and looking at a picture of a fictional old man with a purple sweater on. What are you doing Harry?" I ask, kicking my feet up on the coffee table in front of me. I watch it wobble and cringe, knowing it's one foot prop away from falling apart.
"Finishing my work from today with a glass of wine."
"Wow, fancy. Let me guess, you're in a beautiful apartment too that would make my jaw drop, and my breath leave my chest?" I ask, and he laughs again.
"I don't know how you'd react. Why don't we find out Scar... We should talk... Talk about things, catch up some." He suggests, stumbling a bit on his words.
"Normally I don't accept invites from people I don't have a number saved for. I think you're out of luck," I shrug, knowing he can't see me.
"I shouldn't be surprised that you deleted my number but I am..." He sighs now, and I hear clinking on the other end. I picture it in my head. Him in a beautiful apartment wearing his old USC sweatshirt, and a pair of sweatpants. He looks comfy compared to his normal business casual. He's probably at his island in the midst of the kitchen I'd probably die to microwave my frozen chicken nuggets in. He's nicer than that though. He probably ordered takeout. The clinking I hear is probably the expensive bottle of wine, clinking to his nice wine glass he just bought for his new apartment.
"I need to ask you something, don't think it's weird." I interrupt him, not knowing what he was saying in the first place, mostly because I was daydreaming about his apartment and his expensive wine.
"I don't think I could find anything you say weird anymore darling." He uses the old, but common nickname he used to give me along with all the others. "What;s your question?" He asks.
"Are you in your kitchen right now?" I ask.
"Are you watching me from across the street or are you just that good?" He asks, answering my question, and surprisingly I find myself smiling. Stop it Scarlett, we hate him right now. I frown on purpose, and continue.
"I'm just that good.. I have to get back to doing nothing so can you sum it up in a sentence.. If you need more than that I can probably clear a bit of time from my busy schedule but I don't know." I shrug, knowing he's smirking and those annoying fucking dimples are sticking out while he does.
"I might need some more time than that... Can you manage?" He jokes along with me.
"I suppose. Make it quick."
"Save my number again.. Come over." He suggests, and despite the strong urge I have to jump on the opportunity of leaving this hell hole and seeing whatever paradise he lives in I know I can't.
"I can do the first part but not the second. I'm too busy, we'll have to find another time." I make sure he can hear the joking tone in my voice. He takes a second to respond but I wait with him, listening to the silence.
"What about tomorrow?" He asks, and I shake my head.
"I'm incredibly sorry to inform you. Thursdays are bar hopping days. I enjoy it far too much to stop. But Friday and Saturday are also busy days." I tack on the ending, and he laughs.
"You still do Thursday bar crawls?" He asks.
"You know it was one of my favorite days of the week, it didn't change." I inform him.
"Good to know. I'm going to take a guess and say Sunday is a no too?" He asks, and I sigh.
"You're so right. I have something to clean then." I take another drink of my piss beer, and listen to the sound of his soothing voice.
"Monday is?"
"Busiest day of the week."
"How about tuesday?" He asks, going through the days.
"I'm sorry I have a date with prego, pasta, and probably Nicolas Sparks."
"Ahh, I couldn't impose on a sappy movie night... I guess Wednesday is all I've got.. How about I take next Wednesday. We can go to that restaurant you used to love.. You know the one?" He asks as if I might've forgotten the restaurant we went to constantly. Of course I didn't forget, how could I? They serve the best cajun fries I've ever tasted.
"Won't that be too nostalgic?" I ask, and he chuckles, probably thinking back to all those nights after class just like I am.
"Maybe... But let's do it anyway. We won't sit at our old table, I promise." He reminds me of another thing I had pushed away, but now it's blatant, right at the front of our brain. We carved our names on that shitty table. We liked it the most because it had a cool light hanging over it, one with a little bit of a green hue but not too much, no one else really noticed but we did.
"I don't know... what if next week doesn't work?" I play with him a bit more, and he chuckles softly.
"Then I'll wait till the next Wednesday... All I know is it'll be a wednesday.. It's always a Wednesday." He tells me, and I pull my knees up to my chest.
"Next Wednesday it is... " I speak up to him, and I hang up before he can reply, My eyes well up as I stare at Jimothy in front of me, still eyeing the fuzzy purple I drew for him, wondering how the hell it'll go a week from now, and wondering why it's always a Wednesday.