No matter how far I paced up and down the hallway in the bustling hospital or how many times Hunter assured me that Scott would be fine, I couldn’t help but feel anxious.
I was so disoriented at that point I couldn’t tell if this was all really happening or if it was just part of a dream—a bad, bad dream—but lying to yourself never works. In the back of my mind, I knew that Scott was either dead, alive, or still unconscious—I hoped it was one of the latter two options because the first didn’t at all appeal to me—but the primary focus of my thoughts consisted of why and how.
Why did Scott try to kill himself? How did we even end up here, in a hospital of pestilence and death? So basically this hospital housed two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I hated it here already.
But then I realized I knew the answer to the second question—how we all ended up in this dull, dingy hospital. I hadn’t really remembered what happened from the time found Scott on the bathroom floor to now until suddenly, the entire collection of those lost memories came flooding back to me so fast I thought I was going to get whiplash for a second there.
After finding Scott lying on the bathroom floor with pills in one hand and an empty bottle of vodka nearby, I did the one thing I could think of: I called 911. I relayed my emergency to them and they informed me that an ambulance would arrive shortly. My knowledge of CPR or any sort of life-saving mechanisms were limited to whatever I learned in high school, up until tenth grade when I ceased taking Gym, which was next to nothing. I did, however, know how to check if someone has a pulse or is breathing, both of which I tried on Scott. He had a definite pulse and his breathing was steady, much to my relieved surprise.
The paramedics whisked Scott into the ambulance as I was asked a few simple questions, all of which I numbly answered. Half the time I had to ask people to repeat what they just said because my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of my brother and his ill-fated suicide attempt to have heard the first time. They were very understanding about it, though, and for that I was thankful.
That was when I made my second phone call—but this time I dialled Hunter’s number. I didn’t exactly know why I phoned Hunter. I guess I was scared and worried and just needed someone to get me through this. I certainly couldn’t handle it all on my own. I didn’t have anyone else, and I guess that despite the fact that last time Hunter and I saw each other it ended in the most disastrous way possible, he still came to help in my desperate time of need. And that was when I remembered why we were friends in the first place—I could always count on him.
Fast forward a while and Hunter and I were still sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in front of my brother’s hospital room. Well, Hunter was sitting. I was still pacing, wondering when they’d finally let us see him.
It was a devastating thing, just the thought of life without Scott. He was the one constant in my life. He was there when Mom and Dad died, whenever I needed help with my homework or simply if I wanted to talk to someone. I couldn’t remember a time when Scott wasn’t around, either to be a pain in the neck older brother or a shoulder to cry on, because there wasn’t one. He was always there, whether I wanted him to be or not. And now, thinking that he might not be, it made tears well up in my eyes until they eventually spilled. My vision blurred and I attempted frenetically to wipe them away with my sleeve, but to no avail.
And that was when the cold-hearted truth set in—if Scott was gone, I’d be all alone. I wouldn’t have any family left.
I’d be completely alone in the world for the very first time, and the prospect frightened me.
More tears rolled down my face until they came at a pace that could only be considered as torrential. I didn’t think anyone seemed to notice my sudden break-down, except Hunter. Lots of people cried in hospitals every day. I was no different.
I swayed on my feet (partially due to the fact that my vision was blurred by my brusque outflow of tears, but half of it because the brain cells that were supposed to keep my sanity intact abandoned me just like everything else in the world), and with a bit of assistance from an evidently concerned Hunter, I managed to unceremoniously plop down on one of the chairs.
My mind was reeling—with thoughts, worries, and sentiments—and I needed news or a distraction or something to get my brain to shut up before I was sure it would explode.
“Charlie? Are you okay? Charlie, please, talk to me.” Hunter’s voice broke through the veil of tribulation that had surrounded me. His voice registered in my mind, but just barely. He seemed so far away, when in reality, he was right in front of my face.
I faintly felt Hunter shaking me by the shoulders, but I didn’t really snap out of my seemingly endless reverie until he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
I hadn’t expected that. Thankfully my brain hadn’t either because the shock of the kiss managed to effectively stun it into silence.
When Hunter pulled back from the spontaneous kiss only a few seconds after it had begun, the only thing I could do was stare at him. Blankly.
Blank. Just like my mind. No worries. No pestering thoughts. Nothing. Placid, like a lake without even the smallest of ripples in the water.
Hunter was a genius. It was too bad I didn’t credit him for it often enough.
We just sat there for a few more minutes until Hunter spoke up again. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. Although I had no idea what for. “I was just…” He tried to tell me, grasping desperately for the right words. “I just… I wanted you to come back. I didn’t know how else to do it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I interjected. He immediately ceased babbling. It was a thoughtful gesture and I greatly appreciated it.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking down at his hands that he was currently wringing.
“I know.”
“This time I mean I’m sorry about earlier today.” It was a rare occurrence to have Hunter apologizing once, but twice in one day? That was unusual, to say the least. “Aaron wasn’t the only one acting like a dick; I was too. I should’ve said something or at least tried to stop him. I’m such an idiot!” At the last word, he slammed a hand down on his knee. Hunter went into calling himself a bunch of other names I dare not repeat.
“Hunter, it’s fine. Really,” I said soothingly, trying to get him to stop putting himself down. Only a few minutes ago it was Hunter trying to calm me down and now our positions have been switched completely. “We all make mistakes.”
“So you’re not mad anymore?” he asked hopefully, glancing up at me with guilt-ridden eyes. I had other things to worry about right now, so this petty little fight was the least of my concerns.
“No,” I answered truthfully. I noticed the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Holding my hand out I said, “Friends?”
Completely ignoring my attempt at a reconcile handshake, he slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Friends,” he confirmed.
“Best friends.”
Averting his gaze to the floor, he mumbled, “Sometimes I wish we could be more than—“
“Are you Charlotte Crawford?” Hunter was interrupted by a doctor who just emerged from Scott’s room.
I instantly sprang up from my chair. “Yes, that’s me.”
The doctor had a wide smile on his old face, and unless he was a sadist or a serial killer, I had a feeling he had good news pertaining to my brother’s health.
“Scott seems to be doing fine. You two can go in and see him if you’d like,” the doctor said.
“You mean he’s not…?” I let my sentence trail off, but he seemed to know what I wanted to ask.
“No, no, he’s absolutely fine physically,” he apprised me. “We found traces of alcohol in his bloodstream, but nothing else. He must not have taken the pills. The only reason he fainted was because of the alcohol. He seems to have a low tolerance for it.”
“Thank you so much!” I reached out and embraced the doctor in an unsuspected hug. I felt so elated by the news that I felt like I could hug everybody.
“Oh, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a hangover, so be careful.” With that final tidbit of advice, the doctor left to give us some privacy.
I bounded into the room and Hunter followed behind. As soon as he stepped inside, a nurse said snippily, “Family only.”
“It’s fine; he’s family. Let him in,” Scott replied from a hospital cot by the window. After a brisk glance around, I noticed that the room wasn’t that large and the only pieces of furniture in here were the cot and a nightstand thing, both of which were an ugly off-white colour. I wasn’t sure if they were pure white to begin with, but they definitely weren’t now.
The nurse shot Hunter a glare as she passed him on the way out, and he reciprocated with a cheeky grin.
The two of us rushed to Scott’s bed, and asked him if he was okay, what happened, and a bunch of other questions in a flurry of blubbering words. I could clearly see that Scott wasn’t hurt, but he still pretended that everything was normal and offered a small smile as he attempted to calm us down enough to shut up.
“Guys, please. I have a headache.” That got us to stop talking. I had to bite down on my lip because I knew if I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t stop talking.
“I’m fine, okay? I’m perfectly fine,” he told us, but Hunter and I exchanged dubious glances. For some reason, it wasn’t all that reassuring.
“Scott, I love you, but what the hell is wrong with you?” I roared. I knew that shouting at someone with suicidal tendencies wasn’t exactly the best idea, but I couldn’t stop myself. If I had a chance to take it back, I would in a heartbeat.
Scott threw Hunter and apologetic look, and Hunter got the intended hint, quickly leaving the room to give us some privacy. Even though Scott considered Hunter family, they still didn’t know each other that well. This was too personal to discuss with Hunter.
Then, in a much calmer tone, I reiterated, “What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing. Everything’s fine,” he lied, playing with a loose thread on his blanket. He evaded my gaze, which wasn’t really helping with the whole trying-to-communicate thing.
“Scott, it’s not fine. You tried to kill yourself.” For a while there I thought he was dead, and now he was just pretending like nothing was wrong.
“Yes, it is fine. I’m fine. Leave it, Charlie. Just drop the subject.” He sounded exasperated, but I needed answers. No one tries to kill themselves without a reason. So what was Scott’s? I knew his life wasn’t what most people would call perfect, but didn’t think it was that bad. We were coping. But obviously I didn’t know my brother as well as I thought I did.
“Scott,” I said sternly, like I was scolding a cantankerous child.
“Charlie,” he responded in the same tone.
“I’m being serious!”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he retaliated, “Yeah, well I am too! Drop it, Charlie.”
I stood my ground defiantly as I said, “You know I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me. Please, Scott, do you know how worried I was when I found you on the bathroom floor? I didn’t know what to do. I thought you were dying.”
He huffed and leaned back into his pillow, like he wanted it to just swallow him whole. Scott knew I was right. When he did finally look up at me, it appeared as though he was close to tears. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“I know. Just—“ I inhaled deeply “—tell me why. Please. I need to know.”
A silence lapsed between the two of us, and somehow I knew Scott was thinking about what he was going to tell me—how he was going to tell me. We both knew we had to choose our words carefully, so we wouldn’t accidentally set the other off. Like two ticking time bombs. We were playing Russian Roulette with words, me not wanting to upset Scott any more than he already was, and him not wanting to worry me.
And finally, the trigger was pulled.
“It was Tiffany.” And with that final whisper, tears started to freely flow down his face. My brother wasn’t the type of guy that thought he needed to look cool all the time, so he let the tears toll down his face, bringing sniffles and snot with them to the party of facial fluids.
It was Tiffany. Who would’ve thought that those three words could mean so much and so little at the same time?
Of course Tiffany had to go and ruin my brother’s life. I should have expected it. She already did it once, but apparently that wasn’t enough. She couldn’t just hurt him when she left him—she had to come back and make him suffer.
It left a sense of fury for me to wallow in. I could feel the blood boiling in my veins, and I itched for revenge. I longed for it ever since she left Scott in the first place. I wanted someone to play with her heart, toy with her feelings just so she could experience what Scott had to go through with. There was no doubt that she definitely deserved all that. Maybe I’d even get someone to punch her in the neck. Just for Scott.
But then I began to wonder what she did that made Scott actually want to kill himself.
“Sh-she cheated on me,” he spluttered out between ragged breaths. There was a box of tissues on the nightstand so I handed it to my brother. He started to furiously wipe his eyes and blow his nose in an attempt to cease the torrential downpour of tears that were falling down his face. Then he blew his nose a few more times just so he wouldn’t end up choking on his own snot.
Either my ears were failing me or he just said what I thought he just said. Either way, it wasn’t good.
“What?” I asked for clarification.
“I-I saw Tiffany at Just Pie with s-some guy. Somehow I knew they were dating. But that wasn’t the part that hurt me, honest. I got curious. It’s only natural, right? We’re human; sometimes we wonder about things. And so when she went to the bathroom, I went up to the guy and I asked him how long they’d been dating.” He inhaled deeply. I wiped some stray tears off his cheek with the pad of my thumb. “Five years, Charlie. He said they had been dating for five years.”
The news made me drop my hand back into my lap. So many thoughts swirled through my head at that moment, like a tornado, but I forced myself to tune them all out and listen to the rest of what Scott had to say.
“At least, that’s what he told me,” Scott continued. “I didn’t think he was lying, though. Five whole years. That’s a long time, you know. That guy said he wanted to marry her.” He forced out a sad bark of laughter. “I wished him good luck and told him to run away from her, run as fast as he can in the opposite direction and don’t look back. I thought I should warn him now, while his sanity is still intact.” A contemplative pause. “They’re not going to get married. I know it. Tiffany isn’t about to get tied down to one person, she isn’t ready for that. Clearly.”
Tiffany had been dating someone else for five years? If my memory hadn’t failed me, she had been going out with Scott for three. Their whole relationship, it was all a lie. One big fat lie hidden in between even more lies. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the news—it was Tiffany, after all.
It wasn’t as shocking to me as it was to Scott because I already knew. Well, part of it. I knew Tiffany cheated on Scott, but I was a stupid, horrible sister and didn’t even tell him about it. I thought that maybe if Scott didn’t know, he wouldn’t get hurt. But I ended up hurting him even more. All of this was my fault. It could’ve been prevented if I just told him as soon as I found out.
But then again, a part of me thought that he already knew. That day at our house, the last time Tiffany was there, I heard arguing going on inside. I guess I just assumed that they were fighting because Scott found out Tiffany was cheating on him. But now I realized that obviously wasn’t the case, and it made me curious as to what it was they fought over that day.
“Scott?”
“Hmm?” He had stopped crying, but his nose was still running so he had to sniffle every few seconds.
“The last time Tiffany was at our house, I heard you guys arguing. What was that all about?”
“I don’t really know. The evening started out fine. We ate the pasta—which was delicious, by the way,” he added, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I was planning on proposing that night, so it was only natural to bring up the topic of marriage and our future, you know, to see how she’d react. As soon as I brought it up, she went crazy.” He cringed at the memory. “I don’t even know what happened, but she started talking about how she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, and how our relationship is going too fast. And that somehow blew up into a full-on argument. It was bad.”
I had no idea what possessed me when I blurted out, “So you didn’t know?” I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late.
“Didn’t know what?”
I supposed that there was no point in lying to him, especially considering what happened the last time I withheld information from my brother. “You didn’t know she was cheating on you?”
“No. Why, did you?” I could tell Scott wasn’t serious when he asked me that, but I was.
I didn’t answer him, but apparently my silence was enough.
“You knew?!” About every emotion known to mankind flitted across Scott’s face, each for about half a second. He appeared as though he didn’t know whether to be confused, angry, or surprised. “Charlie, you knew?” Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he went with any of those options.
“I thought you did too!”
He looked hurt, but his expression softened.
“I know I should’ve told you, I just…” If I told him about Tiffany before, it either would have prevented all of this from happening or brought it on sooner. I left my sentence unfinished, but Scott seemed to understand what I was getting at. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. The way he said it made it sound like he was talking to a puppy that was about to tinkle on the carpet. “I should be the sorry one. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But—“
“Like you said before, you already thought I knew about Tiffany’s…wrongdoings,” he replied with finality in his tone. I had no idea why he was making himself out to be the bad guy. It was a position only Tiffany deserved. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I probably got you worried sick.” He enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug. It felt like I was being strangled by a boa constrictor, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Tiffany’s not worth it,” Scott mumbled, and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Try to kill yourself.” My throat tightened at the words.
He ran a hand down his face and let out an exasperated sigh. “It wasn’t something that I thought about. It just kinda happened, you know? As soon as the guy told me they had been going out for five years, I just…snapped. My head was pounding and all sane, logical thoughts were drained from my mind. Something took control of me then, something that wasn’t me. You know how people say there’s always an angel sitting on one shoulder and a devil on the other?” I nodded dumbly in response. “Well the devil was riding shotgun and the angel was being a backseat driver. And they were both so loud, telling me what to do and how to take the news, but I couldn’t focus because all I wanted them to do was shut up. They were so noisy and I couldn’t think rationally… I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. But then I realized how to get them to stop; how to get everything to stop. Permanently.
“I went home and got some alcohol and those damn sleeping pills that never worked. It took me about ten minutes to convince myself that this was what I had to do. There was only one way out and this was it. My escape route. My back-up plan. My one-way ticket.
“But then I thought of you. And Mom and Dad. And I thought long and hard, and I knew I wasn’t going to do it. I couldn’t. Because after Tiffany left, you became the only person I really care about anymore. And the thought of you all alone in this world… It saved my life.”
I saved my brother’s life. Me. Here I was, thinking that I was partially the cause of his almost-death, when in reality it was just the opposite. I was sure I felt a tear glide down my cheek, but I was too elated to really have noticed. My brother was alive, and that was what really mattered.
I hugged him again, inhaling deeply, and I was sure I heard him murmur, “I’m sorry” again in my hair. And when I pulled back, I took a good long look at him and asked the question that we were both dying to know the answer to. “So what happens now?”
Scott stared at the walls for a few seconds, as if the answers were written somewhere on them. “The doctor told me it’d be best to go to therapy.” I imagined that was the advice he gave all his patients that were in here after ill-fated suicide attempts. “I think he’s right.”
“You know, I’m always here if you need to talk to someone,” I offered.
“I know. But I think it would be better to talk to a shrink. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“You’re not going to burden me with your problems,” I told him seriously. In fact, I was a little hurt he chose sleeping pills and vodka to talk everything out instead of me.
“I’m going to a therapist,” he decided with finality laced in his tone.
I sighed. “My offer still stands.”
“I know.”
***
The air smelled like rain, and I could feel it gradually get more humid outside. This morning’s storm passed a few hours ago, but everything from the grass to the roof of my house was still damp. Hunter and I were currently sitting on old towels (it was pretty wet out) on the strip of roof right outside my bedroom window.
Hunter and I returned from the hospital after a few hours of making sure that Scott was absolutely fine, Scott and Hunter having a private discussion, and Hunter and I eating cafeteria food that was actually not that bad. I still had no idea what Scott wanted to talk to Hunter privately about, but no matter how much I pressed each of them in turn to tell me, neither did. So I just left it at that.
Scott had to stay back at the hospital for a little while longer while they did some final tests on him to make sure he was okay to be discharged. So for now it was just Hunter and I.
Hunter blew out more perfectly formed smoke rings and watched as they drifted up into the sky and eventually faded away. He had been yearning for a cigarette since we got to the hospital, but had to wait until we returned back to my house because apparently hospitals didn’t appreciate it when you smoked in front of them. I didn’t want to know how many times Hunter had to smoke in front of hospitals to acquire that tidbit of information, so I didn’t question it.
Neither Hunter nor I brought up Scott since we got back from the hospital. It was like an unspoken agreement we had for the day. We both knew that we would have to talk about Scott eventually, but today just wasn’t the right time. And so we made idle chit-chat about pretty much everything else.
“You should quit,” I said, trying not to inhale any of his smoke.
“Quit what?”
“Smoking.”
He shook his head solemnly. “Charlie, I can’t. Smoking is an addiction. I can’t just decide to stop one day and never smoke again.”
“Yes, you can. You can get one of those nicotine patches or gum or something.” I hated seeing Hunter smoke. He was slowly but surely harming his body. Didn’t he ever look at the gruesome pictures on the front of the package? I had seen my brother hurt himself more than enough times. I didn’t want Hunter to be like that too.
Without thinking, I pulled the cigarette out from where it was tucked firmly between his lips and chucked it as far as I could. It landed in my neighbour’s backyard. When I glanced back at Hunter, he appeared nothing if not amused. He didn’t even have to ask—I knew what he was thinking just by the way he quirked an eyebrow at me.
“You can quit. I know you can.” Ignoring the look of skepticism etched on his face, I added, “Please. For me?”
Only as moment passed before he smiled and said, “Yeah, okay. I’ve wanted to for a long time, anyways. Never even wanted to try it in the first place.”
I held my hand out to him expectantly and he dug his pack of cigarettes out of the inner pocket of his army jacket and slapped it down on my awaiting palm. “Then why did you?” Instead of tossing the carton into my neighbour’s yard since I didn’t imagine they’d appreciate that, I tucked it in my own pocket for safekeeping.
He shrugged and lied down, resting his hands on his stomach. I kept my gaze trained there for a few seconds longer than necessary, just watching it rise and fall with every breath. “I dunno, really. I guess it just came with the reputation.”
“Please don’t give me any of that ‘I didn’t choose the thug life, the thug life chose me’ junk because I’m not buying it.”
“Well too bad because that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.” He turned and shot me a teasing grin and a wink. “I guess I just couldn’t settle for basic cable so I went all-out and got the super-awesome-premier-ultimate-everything package. You know what I’m saying?” Actually, no. I did not know what he was saying. I had no idea as to what he was even talking about anymore.
Staring blankly, I said, “What?”
“The smoking made me look cooler, more bad-ass. That’s why I hang out with Aaron—to look like a bad-boy. I’m basic cable. He’s the super-awesome-premier-ultimate-everything package.”
Now that he cleared some things up, I could kind of understand what he was trying to convey. But, of course, that brought on even more potential questions. “Why do you want to hang out with Aaron? Or be a bad-boy? I mean, you’re really nice when you’re not around them, so why…?”
“It’s a long story, a stupid one at that. I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”
I cast a flat side-long glance at him and arched an eyebrow. “I’ve got time. And, uh, maybe it’d get my mind off things.” We both knew what I was referring to. Hunter couldn’t say no to that, now could he?
“Fine.” A huff and a pause followed. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I said, but the single syllable came out more as a drawled out groan.
“Okay, well…” He appeared not to know where to begin, so he just rubbed the back of his neck as if that would help his story-telling abilities. “At the start of high school, I used to be invisible, I guess. No one really knew me except for my friends and I didn’t have many. And then later my dad died and my mom soon after. Then people only knew me as the kid with no parents. I’d rather just be invisible like before. So anyways, one day I volunteered to tutor some people at this school for bad kids since I needed my forty hours of community service.”
Wait, Hunter was a tutor? Then why was he failing all his subjects? This wasn’t making any sense to me, but I let him finish his story.
“Word got out that I was going there on a daily basis, and the next thing I know, people think I’m a criminal or something. No one really bothered to ask me for my side of the story—that I was a tutor, not a delinquent. Well, no one but you.” He couldn’t hold back his smile as he briefly glanced over at me.
“One day Aaron and his crew ask me if I wanna hang out with them, so I say yes. The next day I’m out buying cancer sticks and cool jackets. I guess I was sick of being that kid with no parents, and thought a new rep would be good. That was stupid.
“I don’t even know how, but then I unofficially became the little ring leader of the group that I didn’t actually fit in with. I guess that’s why you always see me and Aaron fighting—I kinda involuntarily took over his rightful position of leader of the pack.”
It made some sense, I supposed. But I still thought it was daft of him to try and become someone he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just stop the whole bad-boy act?”
“I guess I just got accustomed to it over the years,” he explained simply with a shrug.
I lay down beside him on the towel so I wouldn’t get my shirt wet from the damp roof. There was a beautiful array of stars in the dark blue sky and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to them. I made a mental list of all the constellations I knew and tried to find them. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” I responded, sparing a quick peek at Hunter, who was also regarding the splendid night sky.
“And what’s that?”
“How can you be a tutor if you’re failing all your classes again? Does it have something to do with why you don’t do your homework? I mean, I know you get it and everything, but you never actually do it. Why?”
“Well aren’t you full of questions today,” he muttered to himself. I still heard him, though, whether that was his intention or not. It was difficult not to hear everything he said, since we were lying only inches apart from each other.
He finally replied, “No, no that’s got nothing to do with it. I just, uh…” He chuckled uncertainly. “It’s a stupid reason, but I deliberately failed my senior year because I wasn’t ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what?”
“I don’t know! University, college, life. Whatever was in store for me, I wasn’t ready for it,” he blurted out, only then stopping to take a breath. It sounded like he was having some sort of pre-midlife crisis. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life—hell, I still don’t—so I stayed back. It gave me another year to think about it. And I plan on doing the same thing this year.”
I placed a hand on Hunter’s arm in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. “Don’t get held back on purpose again. You’re smart, smarter than you give yourself credit for, and I bet you could do whatever you want if you just tried.”
“But that’s just it,” Hunter said, “I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You don’t have to,” I quickly cut in. “Life is all about making mistakes.” I wasn’t great at impromptu speeches or pep talks, but I guess I could be the tiniest bit inspirational if I really wanted to be.
He nodded slowly, like he was adjusting to the idea. “I guess you’re right,” he finally said.
“Good, because I know I am,” I replied arrogantly.
He rolled his eyes playfully and asked, “When’d you get so conceited?”
“When I met you,” I retorted, equally as teasing. “Must’ve rubbed off on me.”
Hunter sucked in a sharp breath. “Ooh, harsh.”
“Apply ice to burned area,” I added with a smirk. Hunter laughed heartily and all I could do was chuckle along with him and wink when he glanced my way.
Hunter removed his army jacket, setting it off to the side temporarily, and returned his gaze back to the magnificent set of twinkling stars up above. He was left only in a t-shirt to cover his upper body, but the weather was getting pretty humid so I didn’t blame him for shedding his jacket.
Even though it was fairly dark outside, I could still make out the outline of Hunter’s impressive tattoo. I out and brushed the tips of my fingers over his smooth skin, and he let me. “When did you get this tattoo done?” I asked curiously.
“About a year ago. I wanted to get a whole sleeve, but it took too long so they only did half of it for now. I haven’t found the time to go back and get it finished.” He spoke about his tattoo with affection and pride in his tone, like how someone might brag about their prized car or their kid’s high SAT scores.
“You should wear t-shirts more often, to show off your tattoo.”
“I used to. But then Aaron made fun of me for being a nerd, so now I wear my army jacket over it most of the time.” He jerked his thumb at the crumpled pile of cloth he discarded moments ago.
“Oh who cares what Aaron thinks? It’s your tattoo; flaunt it if you want. Don’t let anyone try to control your life. Everything you do is your decision,” I said, jabbing him lightly in the chest with my finger, “so make the most of it. Be yourself and nobody else.”
A genuine grin inched its way onto his face at my words. “That’s some great advice, Charlie. Too good for me to let it go to waste.”
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You really think I would kill Scott? Please, guys, give me some credit xP Oh, and just a heads up, there's only two more chapters after this and then Under the Influence is officially FINISHED. O_o
Move Along by the All American Rejects on the side --------------->
--Amy
PS- Have a good Spring/March Break! :D