IT'S FINALLY THE weekend, so for two days, I get a break to have time for myself since the aid will help with my mom. Normally I'll busy myself with a new Netflix show, but my favorite thing to do aside from that is write on the old dock that's behind my house. I found the trail a few years ago, and it's been my spot ever since.
I'm not distracted here by teachers trying to blab on about a useless subject or my classmates sharing the latest gossip. Here I'm surrounded by the sound of a gentle stream beneath the dock, birds chirping in the distance, and it's perfect.
Since it's October, it's getting chilly out, but the large stream of sunlight shining down through the trees is keeping me warm. I turn my face to catch some of the light, sighing in contentment. If it were up to me, I'd keep it October all year round. It's not too hot or cold, and the leaves are beautiful. A bunch of orange and red mixed, looking like an actual painting as I sit on this dock.
Scribbling more down into the brand new notebook I got from the hospital, I put myself into the mind of Sherman Winfred, a Los Angeles detective trying to solve the latest murder case in his hometown. I'm a sucker for a mystery. It's my favorite genre to write.
"So this is where you go all the time." I hear a voice call out from behind me. I instantly know it to be River, and I don't like how familiar it's becoming. His sneakers crunch on the leaves beneath him, and as he steps onto the dock, it creaks loudly, his eyes growing wide before he steps off of it. "Why are you sitting on this?" He asks. "It's a death trap."
"It's fine." I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to my notebook. "I've been sitting here for years. Why are you watching me? Are you stalking me now?"
"I was curious why you go behind your house so often. I wanted to understand the hype."
He steps onto the dock again and shuffles carefully towards the end to sit beside me. His thigh almost touches mine, but I ignore that and turn my gaze to his again.
The beanie is off, and finally, I get to see the brown locks of hair that he hides all the time. It's cute on him, straight and cropped around the sides. He's exactly as I pictured him to look.
"I think you're wanting me to be much cooler than I am," I admit. "You're going to be disappointed when you realize I'm honestly just very boring and keep to myself."
"Is that what you think?" He asks. "That you're boring?"
The question stabs me in the chest because it makes me sound insecure. I am insecure, though, because I'm being honest. I'd never lie, and that's exactly how I feel. There's not much to me.
I shrug and pick at my fingernails as I stare into the creek. "I think I'm not someone anyone would want to know."
"And why is that? What happened?"
It's not something I would ever reveal to someone I've known for a week. Telling my life story and explaining everything that's happened with my mom seems like it'd take years, so instead, I sigh and peer towards the sun again to close my eyes. River stares at me when I open them up again to wait for an answer, but I can't give it to him. Not now.
"Let's just say that if I were a Thanksgiving dinner, I'd be candied yams."
He furrows his eyebrows together in confusion. "Candied yams?"
"Yeah, like the dish no one is ever really interested in. I'm just there. A filler for the main course."
River stares at me, and I mean really stares at me, almost like he's figuring out everything about me now, trying to piece together all the hidden clues.
And then we both hear a snap of wood, a loud crack, before the dock completely caves in. I don't have the time to process what's happening until we both fall directly into the water. I'm submerged completely for a few seconds and then float back to the surface to gasp for air. It's freezing, and River pops his head up beside me, the both of us looking at each other in complete and utter shock.
And then we laugh. I laugh, and I haven't laughed in years. I'm laughing so hard that I can hardly swim to the edge of the creek to hoist myself back up. River splashes me before I get there, and I shriek from how fucking cold it is.
"River!" I continue to laugh as my body shivers from head to toe. I'm struggling to hoist myself up, and I freeze when I feel River's hands grip my waist from behind.
"Uh, I was just going to help you." He smiles when he feels how rigid I've grown, and I quickly nod, allowing him to hoist me onto the ground.
It's so damn cold. River is shivering too, the both of us collapsing onto the grass, panting and out of breath. "I told you it was a death trap."
When he laughs again, I smile at him. "I've been sitting on this dock for years, and nothing has happened."
"Are you calling me fat?"
Rolling my eyes, I stand up from the grass and ring out my black sweater, continuing to shiver. I'm too cold to get pissed that my new notebook is gone, the adventures of Sherman Winfred sinking to the bottom of this creek.
"We need to get changed," he says. "Fuck, it's cold."
I slip my shoes off and follow him barefoot up the trail. We're practically sprinting to get back to our houses, and I'm smiling from ear to ear for the first time in a long time.
"This was fun," River says sarcastically. "Remind me not to follow you down any more random trails."
"Well, that's what you get for stalking me," I mutter. "But surprisingly, yes, it was fun."
We both stop before we part ways, and his stare lingers on mine for more than I'm comfortable with. His hair is soaking wet, pieces of brown strands of hair sticking to his forehead, and his white t-shirt is plastered to his skin, the outline of his chest distracting the hell out of me.
"What?" I ask defensively when he's smiling like an idiot.
"Nothing," he replies, and then his gaze softens on me, seeming to melt my heart into complete and utter putty. "I just like seeing this side of you."
My heart is hammering so fast in my chest that it's fluttering rapidly, unable to slow down. I can hear the beating in my ears, and it's so loud that now it's overpowering my thoughts. How is it he comes into my life just one week ago and has already made a significant difference in my life? Is it because I was really that fucking lonely?
Would I be like this if anyone else showed me the tiniest hint of attention? I honestly don't know.
"What side?" I ask.
"The happy one," he admits, and I can visibly see his body quivering from the cold. "I knew it was in there somewhere."
"Well, don't get used to it," I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. "This is a rare day."
"Why does it have to be rare?" He counters. "Do you enjoy brooding in misery, wearing black from head to toe every single day?"
"I mean, no, but..."
"But nothing. Today was a good day, and I plan on having many more with you."
My eyes widen, and he starts to backpedal, almost as if he realizes what he just said. "I mean, now that we're friends and all," he explains.
"Did I ever actually say we were friends, though?" I tease. "Because from what I remember, all I said was that you were a suitable candidate."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He waves his hand and rolls his eyes. "As much as I'd love to debate this, I'm going inside to change. It's freezing."
I shrug. "Can't debate a fact. Bye, River."
Drenched from head to toe, I quickly dart up the porch steps to my house until I hear River cuss. He's twisting the door handle to his front door but can't get it open.
"Everything okay?" I call out.
"No," he mutters. "I didn't bring my house key with me, and Tracy must have gone out and locked it. Fuck."
Again, he's calling his mom by her first name, but I won't touch on it. He seems too angry to be asked that question.
I can see River shaking all the way over here, and I may be a bitch, but I won't let him stand out here in the cold. Even if that means he's about to get exposed to the reason I brood in misery and wear black from head to toe.
I've never brought someone home after school. Ever. And for good reason. That looks like it's about to change, though.
"Um, just come over to my place until she comes back," I tell him.
"Are you sure?" He asks, and I'm not sure, not in the least bit, but I nod anyway.
I'm shaking as I push open my front door, and I don't know if it's because I'm cold or because I know River will be the first person to get an inside look at my life. I'm not embarrassed, but our house isn't nice or extravagant. The only reason I'm not worried about him being judgmental is that he lives right next door. Our houses are almost identical.
My mom is in her recliner in the living room, a random reality show playing to fill the silence. Her aide is getting her next round of pills ready, and as soon as River steps in behind me, I feel him tense.
It's a lot for anyone to take in if they see it for the first time. I watch his eyes scan my mother's oxygen machine to all the cords and pill bottles on the coffee table. I'm clutching the door handle so tightly that I think it might break off any second.
"Hazel?" My mom's eyes widen when she sees the two of us dripping water onto the hardwood floor. "What happened? Who is-" Then she pauses when she pieces two and two together. "Oh. Hello."
I'm about to introduce him, but River walks right over to my mom and sticks his hand out to her. "My name is River. It's nice to meet you, Mrs...." And then he stops because he doesn't even know my last name.
"Mrs. Winter," she finishes, "But you can call me Trish."
"Nice to meet you, Trish." He smiles warmly before he looks over at me. "The old dock down by the creek collapsed on us."
"Oh, no." She puts her hand over her heart. "Hazel, I'm so sorry. That was your favorite place."
Sending her a look to please stop, she doesn't seem to get the hint as she turns to look at River again. "Take a hot shower if you need it. You can borrow some of her dad's old things to wear."
"Mom," I warn.
"Thank you. That actually sounds amazing," River says. "Where is the bathroom?"
"Follow me," I mutter and thud upstairs into the hallway, hearing his footsteps close behind me as I open up the door to the bathroom. It's small as hell, with just a single shower in the corner and a tiny linen closet beside it.
"Your last name is Winter?" He asks with a teasing grin, and just for a second, I want to elbow him in the rib cage. "That's ironic, isn't it? It's like your parents just knew you'd brood in misery and always wear black."
"Shut up," I reply jokingly and grab a clean towel, hanging it onto the rack for him. "I'll grab you some clothes."
Leaving him alone in the bathroom, I go into my mom's room and open up the bottom drawer of the dresser. My mom hasn't slept here for years since she can no longer climb the stairs. We don't have the money to afford that cool electric chair that would allow her to go up and down, but it's better this way. If she were to sleep in here, I'm sure it would remind her of Dad.
Sometimes I'll come in here to grab some of these t-shirts. I forget what he smelled like, and when I take a good whiff, I'm transported back to when I was six, when he'd swing me around and around in circles until I was so dizzy that I got nauseous.
Having River wear something of my dad's feels weird, but then again, this whole day has been weird. I've never had a friend over, and despite what I said before, River seems like a good person to start with. He didn't give me that look that everyone seems to give me when they notice my mom is sick. The look that says, oh, you poor thing.
River treats me normally, as if there's nothing wrong with my life, and I appreciate it. I'd rather not wallow and become more upset than I already am, and for whatever reason, I think he knows that.
I leave the sweatpants and t-shirt in front of the door since the water is still running before I go into my bedroom to change. My skin is so cold that it feels numb, and after I undress, I rub my arms and legs to bring life back into them.
Sliding on shorts and a tank top, I gather the wet clothes and head out into the hallway to see if River is done yet. The water has stopped running, and the clothes are no longer in front of the door. After another minute or so, he finally opens it up, his clothing from earlier in his arms.
"I wasn't sure what to do with these. Do you have a plastic bag? Or-" He stops when he looks at me, and I watch his eyes scan my body from head to toe. "Or, uh..." He tries to finish his sentence, but he seems to forget what he was trying to say all together.
It's not like what I'm wearing is skin-tight or anything. The tank top is loose, and the shorts aren't that short. There's no reason for him to stare at me like he is. Like he's undressing me in his mind, almost.
"I'll put those in the dryer for you," I say and go to grab them from him. "Is that okay?"
He nods, passing them over to me without another word before he follows me down the hallway. I toss them in and start the machine, sending him a sheepish grin. It's like an elephant in the room that we're not discussing, so I'd rather get it out of the way. "I know you probably weren't expecting to walk into what you did..." I start, but he immediately cuts me off.
"You don't have to explain anything unless you want to," he says. "I get it."
Sending him a grateful smile, I drum my fingers on the washer, forming my lips into a thin line before I say, "Are you hungry?"
"Starving."
"Okay, I'll go grab some snacks. My room is through that door. I'll be back in a second."
I brush past him, but his hand reaches out to grasp onto my wrist. His fingertips leave a burning sensation right where he's touching, and all the breath seems to leave my body immediately.
"Can I just say one thing?" He whispers, and I'm so caught off guard that all I can do is nod. "Candied Yams just so happen to be my favorite dish on Thanksgiving."
A/N:
OHHHH THE FEELS.
THE FREAKING FEELS.
I am LOVING this story SO much!!! I'm hoping you guys are enjoying it too!!
What did you think?
This is a new story, so ALL of the comments/votes would be greatly appreciated!!
See you next Friday <3
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