Willow
"So, what do you think, Missy?" Hunter asks, eying the ice cream I'm having a moment with. I just groan and grin at him, making his eyes widen, and then he laughs at me. "Does that mean you like this one more than the other one?"
"No, it means I would like to squeeze this one inside the one we finished and die in an explosion of salted caramel, chocolate, nuts, and what were those other little bits? Fudge?"
"Yes," he chuckles. "You might actually have an awesome plan there. I always eat them together."
"We should write to the manufacturers and let them know of our wisdom."
"They're made by different companies, but hey, collaboration is a good thing," Hunter chuckles.
"It's strange," I say after enjoying another mouthful of the rich, creamy ice cream. "I thought I was over fudge, but I was wrong. Fudge clusters in ice cream don't make me want to puke."
"Fudge normally makes you want to puke?" Hunter seems to be horrified by such an alien concept. I don't think I told him about the time I overdosed on fudge.
"Only when I smell it, see it or taste it... but I really enjoyed the tiny nuggets in that other ice cream we had. Maybe because they were more crunchy and not just smooth and overly sweet, like the ones that come in a box."
Hunter frowns, thinking it over.
"Aren't those Caramels?"
"Oh? There's a difference?"
Great, I'm getting a look again and a smirk. I smirk back and Hunter laughs at me, his eyes shifting to look at my ice cream.
Oh, dear! I can hear a thousand alarms go off. My ice cream is in danger!
We're sitting side by side on my bed; our legs stretched out in front of us and the small laptop table between us. When he returned from putting away the bag of ice creams and delivering Frankie to his mother, Hunter swept everything off my bed to make room for himself. The dolls I was using to fit the clothes I'd made ended up on the floor, mixed with Frankie's toys.
I wasn't quite halfway through the first ice cream when I noticed that Hunter was beginning to lose to the temptation remaining on the stick in his hand. I think he swallowed half his ice cream with one bite. I thought it prudent to swap as quickly as possible, or I might not get to taste the next one, and I was rather curious about it.
I'm still enjoying my share of the second ice cream, but Hunter is now officially ice cream-free, which is dangerous.
"You should get Tan to make you some fudge. His looks like rocky clumps, not pretty at all, and they're kinda crystallized and somehow not that sweet. So good, you'll fall in love."
"With Tanner?" I ask, peeking at him, running my tongue over the side of the ice cream.
"No! With the fudge. Tch!" He really seems to be annoyed that I could possibly prefer Tanner over Fudge. I giggle softly and shrug, licking the ice cream again.
"I highly doubt that. It will have to be some truly am-"
Hunter suddenly leans over and runs his tongue from my wrist, over my fingers to the ice cream and sucks a thick layer of the soft, choc-vanilla cream from my stick, causing more salted caramel to ooze out. I watch in fascination while he prevents the flood from escaping by using his mouth.
And just like that, half of what I had left was suddenly gone.
He gives me a guilty smile when he becomes aware of me watching his lack of self-control.
"You're melting," he explains. "I mean, the ice cream is... it was about to drip from your hand..."
He frowns when I continue to blink at him, still startled by the intimacy of his act.
"Seriously, Girl, I've never seen anybody take this long to eat ice cream before! It's bloody torture!" he growls and grabs my ice cream holding hand, pulling it towards his mouth so that he can eat more of it.
"No! You beast!" I yell, leaning over to slurp up as much of the ice cream as I can before he devours the entire thing. Hunter is eating the leftover piece from the top, and I'm eating it from the bottom. We're both laughing, trying to win control over the last bits of heaven.
Our war comes to an abrupt halt, and we jerk away from each other in unison when the ice cream is gone, and we end up with an unexpected mouthful of each other. After a couple of breathless seconds, during which we're just staring at each other, I let go of the stick. Hunter puts it in his mouth, sucking it clean, watching me with narrowed eyes.
"We're dirty," I say, clearing my throat, shifting nervously while I look from my ice cream-coated fingers to his. Hunter tilts his head, giving me an amused look.
"Does that mean you were trying to clean me just now?"
"What?! I was trying to save the last of my ice cream from a gluttonous oaf! That's all. You were the one licking my fingers just a few seconds ago!"
"I like ice cream, and you were trying to wear it," Hunter points out, defending his honour.
I laugh, shaking my head, and slipping off the bed, I dart into the bathroom to rinse my hands and face and fetch a wet face cloth for Hunter to clean himself up too. On my return, I'm surprised to see that he has the laptop table on his lap and is gingerly working the mouse, trying not to get it dirty. I hand him the cloth and he gratefully accepts it.
"I want to load something on your laptop that I think you'll enjoy, okay?" he says, wiping his hands, face and everything he'd touched with his ice cream hands.
"Thank you," I say, not sure if I should trust him.
Hunter puts the cloth next to the pile of ice cream wrappers and sticks on the nightstand near him and grins at me. "I read your story..."
"Really?" Oh, no! "I thought you hated reading."
"It's really short, and it has pictures," he scowls and rolls his eyes. "I'm a bit worried about your understanding of life, though, because those two dolls weren't wrestling..."
"Yes, they were!" I exclaim, and sitting down on the bed again, I try to take the laptop from him. "My site is strictly PG; many of my clients are kids."
Hunter laughs, stopping me from taking my laptop. I could never win a battle of strength against him, even when he is not even trying. If he put in any effort at all, he'd have the bed and the laptop to himself, and I'd be lying on the ground in the tangle of toys by now.
"Hold on," he says. "I really want to download and install something. You'll love it, I promise. You like to play with dolls; it's gonna be great."
"I don't play with dolls!" Honestly, how many times do I have to explain what it is that I'm trying to do with the dolls when I... well... play with them. Hunter gives me a look and slowly turns his head to look very pointedly at the heap of toys on the floor, containing evidence of some of my activities this afternoon.
"I was just fitting them with the clothes I made in response to the orders I received. The dolls I was working with might have interacted with the dolls Frankie claimed for himself a little bit," I admit. "There were some conversations. I think you're a very powerful influence on your brother because he kept making the dolls kiss," I say, giving Hunter a stern look.
"Nah, that would be our parents' influence; they're always kissing."
Why did I bring up kissing? I am now quite flushed; my cheeks feel as though I've set them on fire, and my eyes keep straying to Hunter's lips. I am so embarrassed.
This is not good at all!
"It was mostly pure business," I state in a hurry. "I let the dolls pose, wearing the finished items and post pictures of them so clients can see how I'm progressing. Sometimes, that causes more orders, but it mostly makes them very happy. I finished quite a few orders this afternoon. I'll be mailing them as soon as I can."
"You have quite the business going here, Missy. I'm impressed."
I narrow my eyes to glare at him, but he shakes his head, smiling. "I'm serious; I really think it's great. Didn't know you were such an entrepreneur. You're good at making clothes, and you work ridiculously fast."
"Thanks," I smile, absurdly pleased to hear him praise me. I do have a business... it is seriously small and doesn't pay much, but it's mine, and I love it. "What are you installing?"
"Ma's The Sims series. She owns pretty much all the expansions, game packs and stuff packs, but she hasn't played it in ages."
"I heard that name a few times on Tuesday when I was playing Skyrim with Tanner. He mentioned it each time I wanted to dress my Nord in nice-looking armour and when I tried to decorate some rooms, and ended up flinging fruit and bowls all over the place, knocking over furniture and accidentally stealing a few things. It's really hard to arrange things properly, and the rolls of cloth are like really hard pieces of wood!"
"Yeah, I noticed that you were torturing Tanner," Hunter laughs, making me giggle too.
That was rather fun to do," I admit. "What is The Sims?"
"It's a life simulation game. You make people, you dress them. You move them into houses that are pretty easy to decorate and build... That kind of thing. And then you use cheat codes so that your sims get to do more than just pee and eat and sleep the whole time. It's like playing with dolls, just minus all the packing away and taking up space."
"You play it a lot?" I ask with a teasing smile.
Hunter gives a slightly dorky-sounding, scoffing laugh and gives me a somewhat insulted look. "No! I don't play Sims..."
"How do you know so much about it then?"
He glances from left to right and left again, sucking in his lips, and then he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair. "I might have tried it out once... or twiiiiice... or many times... It's kind of fun to make them... wrestle and stuff," he adds, smirking at me.
"What?!"
And now he's laughing at me again.
"You'll like it; there are even vampires in there for you."
I lean towards him in an attempt to see what he is doing on the screen, and I can see some images of characters, but they're not telling me much.
"The download, installation and updates are going to take a while; I'll show you how it works later."
He turns to look at me, and suddenly feeling as though I am invading his space, I retreat to my side of the bed in a hurry.
I am really trying to be friends with Hunter now because I sense that our relationship is balancing on a fine edge. He has been acting rather naturally towards me today, and I'm reciprocating admirably, but every now and then, we find ourselves locked in a slightly intimate, breathless moment.
I don't want to scare him off.
He is looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes dark, inviting pools, and I can feel and hear every one of my heartbeats. I'm almost relieved when my phone buzzes me out of the mesmerized state I'm slipping into and gives me an excuse to turn away from Hunter. I pull the phone from my bedside table and open the messaging app.
"Oh," I say, grateful for the distraction. "My mother arrived safely, and she says all is well; she'll be staying there until Sunday. That's wonderful! I'm so happy that their reunion is going well."
"Yeah, well, your granddad is pretty cool, and he missed your mother, so..." Hunter shrugs. Clearly, he'd not been as worried as I was.
"You know my grandfather?"
"Yeah, we visit him from time to time, and he occasionally comes over for Sunday lunch."
I did not know this.
It does make sense, though, as Aunt Beth does refer to Sam Herschel as her surrogate father and said that my grandmother was her real mother and her own mother was just the crazy auntie she lived with. I have no idea what she was talking about.
I open the video my mother attached to her message and the first thing I see is her face. I think she'd been crying because her eyes were a little red, and they looked a bit too moist, but her smile was radiant.
She's happy.
"Remember what I said about your grandfather loving you and yearning to have you in his life? I have proof, Sweet Pea."
She switches the camera to point away from her, and suddenly, I'm looking at a vast array of pictures featuring me in various poses and actions, some alone, some with other people. Hunter moves closer to see what I'm looking at and smiles. "Yeah, I saw that last time I was there."
"I didn't think he cared about me..." My heart has lodged itself in the back of my throat, and I can feel the pressure of tears in my eyes. They are tears of relief. I didn't realise until now just how worried I was about meeting my grandfather in the future, not knowing whether he wanted me in his life or not. I want to know him and get along with him. I don't want to be the wedge between him and my mother ever again. "I thought he resented me too much."
Hunter pushes an arm behind me and pulls me into his side. "How could anybody not care about you, Missy?"
I rest my head on his shoulder and watch the video again.
"That's not right," he says. "Those are all pictures of Charlotte; he needs some pictures of Willow. Willow is a lot prettier and nicer than Charlotte. We love Willow."
I giggle and wipe at the tear that escaped down my cheek.
Oh, lovely, we're way too close again, and he has his arm around me, keeping me in place. Tilting my head back to look into his face is not making matters easier, with his lips barely centimetres away from mine. We're both frozen now, too afraid to move and perhaps increase the intimacy but loathing to break the contact. Yesterday, being close felt so natural and easy; today, we're back to not knowing what we are to each other.
Are we going to ride this relationship see-saw for the rest of our lives?
"Dex is here," Hunter says hoarsely when the sound of a motorcycle grows louder and louder until we finally hear the motor gate slide open. I hastily scoot away from him and get off the bed.
"Where are you going?" he asks, moving the laptop table to the bed and getting to his feet as well.
"To say hello to Dex."
"Why?" For some reason, he looks a little stressed right now.
"Why? We're friends... and he's here... and I haven't seen him today..." I explain, feeling very uncertain now. Hunter just stares at me, slowly blinking his eyes. "Shouldn't I be friends with him?" I really thought Hunter wanted Dex and me to be friends; besides, I want to be friends with Dex. I like him a lot.
"No! Of course, you should; Dex is the ultimate friend. He is next level... I just... uhm... aren't you sick?"
"It's not contagious," I say, frowning at him. He knows I'm not ill. Why is he acting like this?
"Right," he gives a self-conscious laugh, scratching the back of his head. "No... Uhm... ignore me, I'm having a brain malfunction. Just... always... ignore me..."
Smiling awkwardly, he walks into the bathroom.
"I'm gonna shut up now and go put on my bathers."
♫
Tanner
I arrive from far, far away, landing on the bench at the top of the stairs leading down to Briar Cove's main beach. I'm summoned here by someone shaking me, calling my name.
"Tan, please wake up! You're shivering. You're cold," the voice says. It is not a bad voice to wake up to. It is sweet and filled with genuine concern. I'm just not really in the mood to wake up, but I do anyway, taking note of my surroundings, of dusk settling around us and the chilly breeze tickling my neck.
Molly's lap is soft and warm under my cheek, and at some point, I've apparently tangled the fingers of my left hand with the fingers of her right hand, draped over the side of my chest. Seems I've been holding onto them very tightly, my fingers feeling a little crampy when I let go of hers.
She's right, though; the rest of me is freezing. I sit up, feeling dazed and confused about why the sun is plunging into the horizon already. Earlier, I was a bit woozy and nauseous and just wanted to close my eyes for a couple of seconds. The warmth and comfort radiating from Molly were very inviting. I couldn't resist it.
I should have resisted!
"I'm sorry, Moll, I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's okay," she smiles her dimples at me. "I was reading anyway." No, she wasn't reading when I lay down.
"But I slept a really long time."
"That's okay, it's a really long book."
I chuckle and rise from the bench to do a couple of stretches, trying to warm myself up. Why the hell am I so stiff?! Oh, right! I tried to murder Coach.
"Are you cold too?" I ask, running my eyes over her. As usual, she looks like a very cute Christmas decoration. She'd make an awesome elf-on-the-shelf. Purple Rapunzel t-shirt (I know it's Rapunzel on the t-shirt because it says so in bright yellow letters) pulled over some kind of orange top. I can only see its round neck sticking out beneath the t-shirt, and that part is orange. Both tops are covered by an unzipped red, blue and grey striped hoody. Her track pants are surprisingly decoration-free, it's green though... of the electric kind, but her sneakers are just normal black sneakers.
Very disappointing; I liked the ones with the crazy fish on them she wore yesterday,
Molly is the most colourful being I've ever seen. She always looks like she just stepped out of some cheeky fantasy novel. Her clothes are in sharp contrast with the very respectable glasses she wears. One day, I'll suggest that she gets some weird-ass batty frames for her specs as well, but if she did, they might hide her eyes, and that would be a real shame. Molly has beautiful eyes.
"No, not really; sleeping drops your body temperature. I didn't sleep; I'm fine."
I push a hand through my hair and find a couple of short braids in there. "What the hell?"
"I got a little bored at some point," Molly giggles, and I laugh too, tossing my head a few times to un-braid it. I guess it's time for a haircut.
"Do you want to go for that walk now?"
Molly rises from the bench and pulls a face. "No, actually, I had PE last period; I've had enough exercise for the day. Do you want to come upstairs for some hot chocolate or something to warm you up?" she asks and bites her bottom lip, peering up at me.
"That will be great, thanks." I'm really glad she's not saying goodbye and leaving. I wanted to hang out with her, and as nice as sleeping in her lap had been, I would rather hear her say weird stuff and mess with her, making her giggle the way she always does.
"Good," she smiles. "We can make some dinner too if you're hungry. Unless you have to be somewhere else for dinner..."
"No, we can make something together. Will be fun."
Molly seems happy with my answer; she spins around and crosses the walk-and-cycle path running between her apartment building and the beach. I follow her, and when we enter the foyer via the back doors, I drag her to the stairs when she tries to order the elevator. "No way, Chick! I don't do elevators!"
"What? You're too fit for them? Are elevators only for chunky slobs like me?" she huffs when she catches up to me, waiting for her on the first-floor landing.
"No, they're dangerous," I inform her, and she giggles, giving me a highly mocking look. "Seriously! I got stuck in elevators more than once!"
She laughs again, passing me, and I fall in step behind her, pushing her up the stairs until we reach her door on the second floor.
"Well, to be honest, I usually take the stairs too," she says, pulling a key chain from the pocket of her track pants. "Not because I'm a scared little girl. I'm trying to become fit, you know? You just look really tired today, and I already know that you're kinda weak, so I wanted us to take the lift instead. I was afraid I'd end up having to carry you again."
I chuckle, giving her curly ponytail a sharp tug, causing her to lose her balance a little, but I steady her and take the keys from her hand to unlock the door for her.
"That's fine. You can be a brave and powerful warrior, and I'll hide behind you, but just get one thing straight," I say, glaring at her. "You're not a chunky slob."
I open the door and step back so that she can walk into the apartment. She takes one step inside and bends over to pick up the pug snorting happily when he sees us. Apparently, he'd been waiting just inside the door. I laugh, watching Molly hold the leaking dog out the door to piddle his excitement in the tiled corridor running down the length of the building.
"It's easier to mop it up here," she explains, shrugging, and I laugh again.
♫
Paisley
I am starting to think that maybe this wasn't such an awesome idea.
I mean, what was the plan here really? I liked the thought of going on a date with Austin because the idea of me being on a date with some other guy, especially a sleazy one, might make Ashy see the light, but I really don't like being on a date with Austin. I don't like it at all.
He's not doing anything bad to me, and I paid for his ticket, so he cannot get any ideas about this being an actual date...
Oh, wait... I should've let him pay for his own ticket then.
He's just so boring and annoying to be around. He thinks he's very witty, but he's just obnoxious and rude. He called the thick-set girl in front of us in the queue a hippo earlier, as in: "I hope we don't end up behind this hippo. She'll block the screen."
And he was very snarky towards the guy serving us when I bought us some snacks, calling him Steve-o and asking him if he could read, just because the guy (Steve, according to his name tag) misheard him and tried to give him the wrong M&Ms. Austin could benefit from not slurring all his words when he speaks. He might think it makes him sound posh, but it actually makes him sound a little drunk.
I miss Ashy.
Going to the movies with Asher is so much fun. Hiding in the dark, holding hands, giggling over shared jokes. He knows not to take the green triangle from the box of quality street chocolates we share. I also know not to take the purple one, he likes so much.
Blooming Austin took the green triangle chocolate, stuffed it in his mouth and was still chewing it when he popped two others in there too and now, he's trying to gobble up all the popcorn. I don't even know what he did with the M&Ms.
Seriously! Why are we sharing?
Well, sharing is supposed to be romantic, right? And I'm aiming for fake romantic here. I've kinda lost the point behind that because we're in a dark theatre, and nobody knows that I'm being fake romantic, and the people who do see it really don't care or matter.
This was a stupid idea. I wonder what Ash is doing now.
I don't like this movie. It's about a really irritating entitled woman screeching at everybody about her so advanced and supposedly liberal ideas, when in fact she is just self-absorbed, beating everybody over the head with her opinions and completely oblivious to the horrible things they are dealing with themselves.
Ugh! I can't stand people like that. Who chose this movie?
Oh, right, that was me. The title seemed romantic, and, well... need I explain the whole fake romance thing again? I think the romance on screen is more fake than the romance not blossoming between Austin and me. Well... definitely, because Austin just planted his hand on my thigh, trying for some realism, and I died a little inside. I am so glad I'm wearing a long skirt, so he is not actually touching my skin, but still...
"What the hell, Dude?"
"Isn't this part of what you wanted?" he asks, giving me a wolfish grin. He clamps his mouth shut when I give him a disgusted look in exchange. "No?"
He's about to take his hand away when he freezes, his eyes turning into two large glazed-over disks in his face. At first, I think he got stung by a poisonous box jellyfish, but this is not the ocean and I won't be that lucky. Then I become aware of a hand on Austin's thigh, squeezing it quite tightly.
It is not my hand...
"What the hell is this, Paisley?" he hisses between his teeth, too stunned to turn his head and look at his molester, so I do it for him, leaning forward a bit to see past him.
"Monkey sees, monkey does. I'm catching tips," Asher says, sitting on Austin's other side.
My heart leaps seeing him, so I beat it down with a mental hammer. It has no business leaping anywhere. Asher is the enemy, not the love of my life, here to rescue me from Mr Eat All the Chocolates.
"Any other moves you'd like to teach me?"
Austin takes his hand from my thigh and jumps to his feet.
"No, seriously, this is not worth it. I don't know what you weirdos are up to, but I'm out!" he bellows, ignoring the multitude of demands for silence flaring up from the people around us who would like to listen to the shrew on the screen. He pushes past me, stumbling into the aisle, and I'm not sure whether he went to the door or took an empty seat (I'd bet the latter) because I'm too busy glaring at Asher.
Dammit! Austin took all the snacks!
"What are you doing here?"
"Being jealous, riding to the rescue, making sure you don't do things you regret," Asher says in that quiet, unexcited way in which he always speaks to me when he's trying to put me in my place. It never fails to drive me up the walls. "Take your pick. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"No! It's not! You ruined my date!" I snap and get to my feet too. I don't acknowledge the jeers of people pretending to watch the stupid movie, and I am not looking for an empty seat; I am charging for the door.
The cold Briar Cove air hits me with a bracing blow when I storm through the foyer and step out of the theatre into the early evening. I can see the bus I could've taken passing by, which means that I have about 20 minutes to wait for the next one. Not looking forward to that! I'm not quite warm enough, wearing only a denim jacket over a long-sleeved T-shirt.
I don't want to go home. Home is no longer the friendly, warm place it used to be.
"Seriously, are you going to start dating the worst guys you can find?" Asher asks behind me, draping his jacket over my shoulders. It is warm and snug and saturated with his comforting fragrance. I take it off and hold it out to him.
"Yes, and I need to get used to you not being here to give me your jacket when I'm cold."
"Pay..."
"What do you want from me, Ash?" I sob. "You don't want me, so don't pretend to care about me."
"What?!" He is not taking the jacket, and he's not leaving; he is looking at me with a bewildered look on his face. He is starting to get the message, but instead of seeing that blooming light I was aiming for, he is becoming angry.
"I'm sick of your bullshit, Ash. The whole, I love you so much, so I have to leave you, scene... You're turning our lives into a really bad, soppy drama. You know I hate those drippy, stupid storylines. You either love me, and we face your fears together, or you leave me, and I do as I please to get over you. What's it gonna be?"
Asher swallows, and I can see that his mind is running along frantic thought patterns. As long as those tracks bring him to a wise decision, they can be as frantic as they want to be. I hate hurting him, but he is hurting me much worse. I am mostly faking. He is really leaving.
"You're cold," I say, thrusting his jacket into his hands and turning away; I stride down the lighted pavement, heading towards the cluster of homes just off the main street of Briar Cove.
"Pay, where are you going?" From the tremble in his voice, I can hear that he has already guessed it.
Good!
I know this is a terrible idea and is probably not going to end well, and I am going to regret it so much, but I am too upset and angry to care right now.
"You're right," I say, pausing to look back at him. "I don't like Austin, and I shouldn't be dating the worst guys I can find. I'm going to the only other boy I've ever had real feelings for. Maybe it's not too late for us after all."
"Don't do this," Asher says, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him. "Let's go home."
"Are you going to force me to go with you now? Is that where we are now? Violence? Let go of me!" I hiss, choking when I see the desperation in his eyes. I wrest my arm free from his hand, and he lets me go, knowing that I'll end up injured if he doesn't.
"Pay..."
"Just go home, Asher! We're done!" I shout, turning in the direction of my destination. I break into a run, hoping he is not following me anymore.
♪♫♪