"Shh," I whisper firmly as June's giggles echo off the walls.
Grayson is holding most of her weight as we make our way to her room, trying our best not to completely alert her parents. I mean, they know these bonfires aren't completely innocent, but it doesn't mean I want to see the looks on their faces seeing June this trashed.
June claps a hand to her mouth, her giggles muffled but still vibrant enough to ensure her parents definitely know what's happening right now.
"For Christ sakes, June," Grayson jumps in now. "Maybe try not to wake up our sisters."
My eyes flash to his briefly before turning to open the bedroom door. Seeing as tonight was movie night at Sadie's, Cece and Lily are hopefully curled up, fast asleep after their sparkling vampire marathon.
"Right," June whispers, though her volume is far beyond an actual whisper.
When we get inside the room, Grayson plops her down on the bed, her head falling to the side as she grabs the blanket and hums a quiet sigh of defeat. Her eyes roll closed and I can't help but let out a sigh of my own.
"Finally," Grayson exhales, causing my eyes to fly up to his. "Can I get my keys now?"
My brows raise at his question. Does he really think my mind has changed in the drive over here?
"Nothing has changed in the last ten minutes, Grayson. You still drank at that bonfire."
There's frustration in his breath as he lets out a moan. "I'm not driving anyone but myself and like I said, it was half a beer, over an hour ago."
My hand falls to my hip, my mind already made up. "You're not the only one on the road, Grayson. Just because your car is empty, doesn't mean you aren't putting anyone at risk."
His hand falls to his forehead, raking its way down his face before he glances up at me. "There's no way you're letting me leave this house tonight, are you?"
My head begins to shake back and forth as I mouth the word Nope.
"Whatever. At least I'll be saving myself the trip of coming back here for Cece in the morning." He turns to leave, pausing in the doorway. "You know, my pranks have only gotten better with time."
I realize he's trying to scare me, make me watch my back as some form of payback for making him take a spot on the couch tonight, but I'm not giving in. "Ooh, did you graduate from messing with deodorant to freezing bras like the juvenile delinquent you are?"
"Juvenile delinquent?" He laughs, shaking his head. "I bet you'd love me pulling that prank on you."
That little smirk on his face has me crossing my arms over my chest. "More like you would. Any opportunity to touch a girl's bra, right?"
He takes a small step forward, the confidence he's always coated in shining brightly across the room. "I have no issues finding girls who will let me touch their bras. However," he pauses, dropping his eyes briefly before lifting them back to mine. "Touching yours throws in a challenge that's all too intriguing."
He did not just go there. "You'll never get your hands on any of my undergarments, Grayson."
He laughs, as what sounds like a tisk falls from his lips. "Never say never, Mia. Like I said," he takes yet another step forward, my chin tipping up to see him. "My skills have only gotten better, Tink."
My eyes take an exaggerated route, rolling excessively at the arrogance that just so easily rolls off of him.
"Enjoy the couch, Grayson," I nod toward the door before taking a step back.
"I will," he smiles a much too mischievous grin as he takes two steps toward the door. "And you watch your back tonight, yeah? You never know what might get tampered with."
Empty threats. It's all just a game to him. Right? Yes. Just a game. At least I hope.
*****
A golden liquid sways back and forth, my eyes locked on the way it looks like honey. I've always loved honey. The liquid sloshing around the crystal confines of his glass is similar in color to the sweet, sugary syrup, yet nothing like it. This liquid is different, it's toxic.
His voice is loud, always so loud when that tainted drink is clasped within his hand. I don't understand it. I can't make out the slurred words. They're always so blurry, like he's yelling underwater. I can see his lips moving, I can feel the heat of his rage, but I don't understand. I can never understand.
She's here, too.
Mom's long hair pulled back into a braid as her gentle voice calms my fears. She's always so gentle, a stark contrast to the booming voice in front of her.
So loud.
His voice is so loud. I just wish I could make sense of the words.
"We're okay. We're going to be okay," my mom whispers to me, but her body is still so far away. I can feel her comfort, her reassurance as if she's standing right in front of me, but she's still facing him. He's still yelling.
"Hey Kiddo," another voice cuts in. I know that voice. It's too deep to be my mom's, too comforting to belong to the man behind the drink. "Can you sing for me?"
A blanket of calm relief falls over me as the subtle melody of You Are My Sunshine fills the room, but the two people in front of me don't seem to take notice.
He stands, turning to face my mom. My heart begins to pound from my chest, my breaths caught within my throat as my dad lunges forward, throwing his glass against the wall as the liquid splatters against the paint.
Silence.
Everything goes quiet.
"It's not loud anymore." The voice is my own though it's playing around me, an echo filling the space as my eyes fly to the broken glass.
I'm suddenly outside. The shattered glass sprawled across the pavement. There's so much, too much. The flashing lights begin to blind my vision, tearing me away from a faded scene.
None of it makes sense yet my heart begins to break. I don't know who it's breaking for or why, but it hurts. It hurts so damn much.
I can't... I don't...
My eyes fly open, my breaths frantically fighting to regain a steady rhythm as I grip the bed sheets, feeling the way they slide through my fingers. Next, I reach for my pajama pants, feeling the soft change in material. My eyes search the room, looking for items to ground me to reality. A picture of June and her sisters comes into view, followed by a shelf lined in books.
My breaths settle as I slowly sit up, reminding myself that it was only a dream. A nightmare. One I haven't had in a long time.
Reaching for my phone, the time flashes in front of me. It's early, but not too early, and the fact that the sun is peering through the window only adds to that fact. A run. I need to go for a run.
I quietly pull myself from the bed, scooting to the edge without rocking it too much. My eyes glance back, making sure I haven't disturbed June. Her hair is fanned out across her pillow, her mouth open wide, creating quite the picture. I may be tired from staying up far too late, but she has a whole other world of pain to face this morning. I tried to pace her but she's very capable of making her own decisions, and if she wanted to get wasted, who was I to stop her?
Once my hair is fastened tightly into a braid and I've managed to slide into a pair of pants, I grab my Nikes from the floor before glancing back at my bag. I take three silent and very hesitant steps toward it, Grayson's threats about his new and improved pranks rattling my head. As if my mind wasn't screwed up enough this morning after working to ignore the return of the nightmares, now I have the precaution of a prank to worry about.
My hand hovers over the opening of my bag, picturing every possible scenario that could be about to take place. It wouldn't surprise me if he snuck in here to get his keys, lining my bag in some ungodly substance. I lean down, placing my face above the opening and taking a calculated risk in trying to smell any hints of a foreign aroma. When nothing stands out, I slowly slide my hand into my bag, highly aware of anything that might be out of place.
As my fingers fall against his keys, I let out a breath. This is ridiculous. I'm quickly on my feet, shaking my head at the complete definition of overreacting I just pulled, and tiptoe out of the room.
The house is quiet, the still serenity of an early morning settling the space around me. I love mornings. I love the quiet, the peace of it all. I just don't prefer it too much when I've only had about four hours of sleep, or when that limited sleep is brought to an abrupt halt due to the darkened memories that remind me of their lingering presence when I close my eyes.
I ignore the lull of my body and make my way to the kitchen. Stepping around the corner, I pause for a moment. All of the events of last night are playing in front of me. My need to hold Grayson's keys hostage, the return of my nightmares. I'm not naive to it all. I'm aware of how it all fits together. Taking a small breath, letting the weight of it all fall from my shoulders, I take a small step forward.
"Morning," a deep voice grounds out behind me, causing me to jump. He laughs quietly, making his way past me as he walks into the kitchen.
"Good morning," I mumble, watching as Grayson reaches for the tub of oatmeal. "You're up early."
He opens the container before grabbing a scoop. I make my way further in, opening the cupboard and placing two bowls in front of him. He raises a brow briefly before dumping a scoop into each bowl and filling it with a proper amount of water. As he turns toward the microwave, I reach for the bananas in the corner, raising them for him to see and picking two from the bunch as he nods.
"I usually am," he replies, opening the cupboard to the side of his head and pulling out the peanut butter.
My face must be painted in shock because he laughs. "Don't act so surprised, Tink. I like to get a workout in before it gets too fucking hot out. And I'm used to the early mornings from first period weight training."
"So," I hesitate, reaching for the peanut butter and unscrewing the lid. "You're a morning person then? I would have pegged you as more of a night owl."
He smiles, passing me a butter knife. "I am," his shoulders rise and drop as I pull the knife from his fingertips.
"You can't be both," I shake my head, dipping the knife into the peanut butter and spreading it across my banana.
Grayson, on the other hand, grabs a spoonful of it straight from the jar, taking his sweet time eating it before responding, "Pretty sure falling asleep past midnight and getting up with the sun makes me both."
Screwing the lid back on the peanut butter, I turn to face him again. "So, what? You just don't enjoy sleep, then?"
His smile is genuine this time, no smirk lingering behind it. It's actually nice to see him smile. To have some resemblance of a normal conversation without it ending in me crossing my arms over my chest and him chuckling at how easily he gets under my skin.
"That's what naps are for."
I'm the one laughing now, a little shake to my head as he reaches for the knife, rinsing it in the sink with his spoon. "What are you, four?"
"Hey," he raises a finger, turning to face me now. I catch a glimpse of those deep chocolate eyes of his. The very ones that wrapped me up in the pool all of those years ago. "I'll have you know that naps are actually good for you."
His eyes hold mine for a moment, both of us falling silent, drinking in a moment free of the usual bickering. When the sound of the microwave chimes, his eyes pull from mine. I drop my gaze to the ground before turning back to the counter, reaching for a fork and taking in a slice of peanut butter banana.
"Mia," his voice is quiet as he sets my bowl of oatmeal in front of me, dropping a spoon inside. "I'm sorry about last night."
With a mouth full of food, I look up at him. He's now planted across the counter from me, seated in a stool and looking back at me. There's an honesty to his eyes, a look I haven't truly seen fill them before.
"You were right," he continues, and it takes everything in me not to make a comment about him repeating that sentiment. Now isn't the time to make a play on his words. "I said I'd drive last night, that I wouldn't drink. And I did. I'm sorry."
I slide the spoon across the top of my oatmeal, skimming the coolest part before dropping it in my mouth. My head begins to nod slowly as I think about last night.
He had half a beer. One long swig for him, and it was far before we were actually set to drive. I knew he was fine, deep down I knew he was completely sober. But the thought of even a sip before getting behind the wheel, endangering not only our lives, but the innocent lives of other people on the road... The image of shattered glass across the pavement flashes across my eyes, the pain shaking my chest. I clear my throat, connecting my eyes back with his.
"Thank you," I finally reply, acknowledging his apology. "I'm sorry too." When his eyebrows pull together, I take a gulp before sweeping up my pride and offering an explanation. "I may have overreacted to you finishing off your girlfriend's beer. You were right, too. It was only half a beer, and there was a decent time gap. I let it be a bigger deal than it was."
His features soften as he nods his head. A quiet blanket of truce falls over us. We let it settle there, both finishing off our breakfast. He's the first to finish, gathering his dishes and joining me by the sink as he rinses them off.
"She's not my girlfriend," he speaks, reaching for my now empty bowl before he begins to wash it for me.
"What?"
Shutting off the faucet, he reaches for the towel and dries his hands as his body turns to face mine. "You said I finished my girlfriend's beer. Hannah isn't my girlfriend."
Could have fooled me. They've been attached at the hip everyday at camp. She's usually draped across his lap, his hands always present on her body.
"Oh, I just assumed-"
"You can't always judge a book by its cover, you know." Enter the famous Adler smirk.
"How profound of you," I give him a subtle eye roll before taking a small step back.
"I'm not all good looks and charm, Mia. I've got a lot more beneath all of this," he gestures to his body, causing my eyes to trail a dangerous path.
He's not wrong about all of this. The way his shirt clings to the rippling muscle beneath is something that I haven't quite managed to ignore. He's quite the sculpted figure, there's no easy way for a girl to ignore that. I just wish the words that flowed from his lips were just as appealing.
"I'll believe it when I see it," I shrug, pulling my eyes from his chest and catching a knowing look on his face. I guess a lingering gaze on his body isn't exactly subtle. But as his eyes make their own path down mine, I feel a sudden sense of heat fill my cheeks. I turn quickly, making my way out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Mia," he catches me, causing me to pause and look back at him. "Can I get my keys now?"
Oh how the tables are about to turn. The warmth caressing my face drops and a veil of confidence takes its place. I take a small step in his direction, perching myself against the counter with my hand.
"Where are they, Mia?" He asks in my smirking silence.
"You'll never find them," my smile widens, the feeling of control over this particular situation washing over me.
His eyes drop as he lets out a playful sigh. "Is this your idea of a prank?"
"Maybe," I shrug. "Just making up for lost time." Oh, this feels good.
He takes a small step of his own, planting himself in front of me. "But this isn't actually a prank. It's theft."
I'm still standing my ground, despite the lack of space between us as I hold his gaze. "Isn't that basically the same thing for a person like you? The same way breaking and entering is your idea of a good time?"
His sly smirk accompanies the slightest roll of his eyes. "If this is about the pool three years ago, you should know I still have no regrets about what happened that night," he pauses briefly, the dark lull of his eyes falling to my lips. His fingertips brush mine along the counter, and his heated touch ignites against my own. I'm reminded of our proximity as his gaze slowly rolls back up from my mouth to meet my eyes. "Well, mostly no regrets."
"What does that mean?" I quickly question. The way his eyes just lowered to my mouth, the way my stomach dropped at the tiny gesture has me thinking about that moment in the pool. For the briefest lapse in judgment, I nearly gave him my first kiss. The thought is a distant memory now, at least it used to feel distant.
He's quiet for a moment, his eyes lingering on mine, fingers still touching mine before he takes the slightest step back, dropping his hand to his side. "Nothing," his voice is different, scratchy and deep as he shakes his head. "Where are my keys, Mia?"
I ignore the awkward moment as a smile pulls across my lips. I slowly reach my hand into my shirt, pulling out his keys and dangling them in front of him.
His eyes widen briefly before they drop. "You had them down your shirt? Really?"
"My pants don't have pockets," I shrug. "I had to keep them safe. You should actually be thanking me." I drop the keys in his outstretched hand. "That's the closest you'll ever get to touching my bra."
He holds back a smile, swallowing hard as I let my confidence take over once again. His eyes do their little dance down to my chest, but it doesn't have me flustered this time. I like being in the driver's seat.
His smile widens as he subtly shakes his head. "I hate you."
I can't help but return the smile, scrunching my nose as I pat his chest, "I know."
With that, I turn on my heel, making my way out of the kitchen with a victorious smile.