HIM.
My head wasn't necessarily pounding when I woke up, so maybe I had my streak of not drinking alcohol to brag about. My brain, however, was very much still in a fog, and my mouth was dry as hell. I deduced that I was dehydrated at the very least, and spent most of my morning sipping on water while staring at Carter as she continued to catnap on the bus ride back home.
She didn't say much to me when we finally got back to campus, not that I minded. I didn't feel like holding a conversation either. She simply let out a yawn and split ways with me. I went to get coffee, and she went to our room to probably sleep through her classes today.
Which is most likely the reason why she hasn't shown up to our psychology class yet. Chute was going to rip her a new one, that's for sure, and I don't even feel bad. Lazy girl. "Hey man, how ya doing?" Some kid from my class sinks in a seat next to me, his knee bouncing up and down as he nervously taps his fingers against the desk.
"What do you want?" Like I said, I'm not in the mood for conversing. The caffeine from my black roast just hasn't made its way to my brain yet, and until it did, I'll just continue to seem half alive.
"I need you to do me a favor," he turns to me, both hands placed on the desk as he leans in closer. His breath carried traces of tree over to me, causing my nose to scrunch up as I lean back, further away from him. He didn't wait for me to ask him what favor he needed, his filthy mouth opening and asking me anyway, "Could you write a paper for me, my guy? It's um...World History and thirteen pages long. Due next Thursday."
I sigh, closing my eyes so that I could live through my schedule for next week very quickly. Huffing, I accept his challenge, "I'll do it for two-fifty."
He lifts up from the back of the chair in shock, no longer slouching. "Bro I don't have two hundred and fifty dollars to throw around!"
"Tough," I shrug.
"Can't you lower it? Fuck's sake, man," he whines, rubbing his eyes. I stare at him, my face feeling heavy with the lack of sympathy I was showing. This dude, who I've never spoken with, comes to me asking for a thirteen page world history paper. Do I look like a history major to you? I don't know the Shia and Sunni from the Lakota, and he expects me to do his work for what? Twenty bucks? Twenty my fat ass, he's gonna pay.
I voice this to him because the numbers aren't getting pulled blindly. I have shit to pay for, too. He's not the only guy coming up on debt. He was playing with his fingers, weighing his pros and cons. I sold it to him like I worked in a car dealership. No way I wanted to actually type his paper, but making about three hundred in a couple days doesn't sound too bad. "Pay me tomorrow, and I'll get it done two days earlier."
His eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. "Hell no! Why would I pay you before I get the work?"
"Look around the classroom," most of the damn kids in here weren't getting anything above a passing grade because no one cared about an intro to psychology class. "I don't fuck around with schoolwork. You give me the money early, you get your paper early; with a guaranteed A-plus."
He winces, "If I get an A, she'd know I didn't write it. I'm just passing, bro."
"B minus then," I conclude, before turning away from him in dismissal. He gave me a sorry excuse for a thanks, but I didn't need anything more than the cash. Now I have to check my schedule and clear out some shit. I have a paper to write.
Chute comes in, and sets up before telling us we'd be going over research methods. During the beginning of the lecture, I kept noticing I was subconsciously staring at the door, waiting for her to come in. I don't even know why I wanted to see her, it's not like the sight would be pretty. Her hair would be pulled up in a lopsided bun, strands all over the place. Mostly the ones in the back would be loose.
I tune out of his notes, my pencil just scribbling on the paper. She'd probably wear a Sesame Street two piece or something. Would she brush her teeth? I'm not sure, she tends to be in a rush when she's late to class. It's so weird how she resembles a gremlin in the morning, but can transform into a fairy by night. After catching myself staring like a lovesick man, I focus back on my notes, but look at my paper, horrified by the drawing of her in the corner of my notes.
I jolted in my seat, and looked around, embarrassed, though no one would know who the drawing was. It was simply a view of her from the back, her shoulders and above. I drew her messy, morning hair. How some strands just didn't make it into the bun and swayed like little tails. I drew her baby hairs back there, the ones that laid down smoothly on her nape, and that mass on top. Ringlets going every which way at the top of her head.
Fuck, what is chute saying?
The door opens, and my attention snaps to it. She comes in, the hood of a hoodie halfway on her head, that messy bun sticking out like a sore thumb. I almost smirked at the Oscar the grouch pajama pants. What a kid. She tries to B line it to the back of the classroom, but stills when we make eye contact. All I do is raise an eyebrow at her. Was she really going to sit at the back after we established a change of seats?
She pouts.
Then takes a few steps up the stairs, tired eyes still on me. I purse my lips. She looks up at the ceiling in defeat before stepping back down to walk over to my section. She angrily pulls back the seat beside me, tosses her backpack on the ground and plops into the seat. Chute doesn't even look up, though he does sigh as he continues on, disappointed.
"Did she brush this morning?" I snicker.
"Oh flip off," she grumbles, resting her face on her hand, and slumping against the table.
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I knock on the door to Ryker's apartment with a bored look on my face. I've been texting him, and he hasn't responded in more than two days, so that's the protocol for me having to beat some sense into him. It takes him forever to open the door, and when he does, his eyes widen, and he slams the door back closed.
Except I stopped it with my foot. I push it back open, ignoring his resistance and close it, lock it, cross my arms over my chest, and wait. He blinks at me, then starts to whistle awkwardly. "So what's up?"
"I don't know, Ryk, you tell me," I lean against the door. He shrugs his shoulders, before disappearing into his kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator opening and closing piqued my interest, but I stayed right where I was. He comes back, holding a tray of muffins. "I made these for you," he smiles.
"Stop being cute," I glare at him, but help myself to a muffin anyway. I take a bite, pausing to look at it because it tasted really good. I eye the blueberries, and search for something like weed flakes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he lies. More silence passes between us. I take my shoes off, and push past him to find the living room, taking a bigger bite out of the muffin once I am sure he isn't trying to drug me.
"I have until four o'clock, asshole. Start talking, or I'm calling Kennedy." Ever since she told me about her progressing relationship with Ryker, it's been fun having leverage over him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt her, so he does what he can to destress, appreciate, and spoil her. If I can't get him to talk to me about his rough periods, I can threaten to call her and he sings like a canary.
"You're not fair," he whines. I sit on the arm of his couch, shrugging my shoulders, but say no more. "I'm fucking stressing, and I don't want to bother you because you're caught up in your own shit, and so is Kennedy, and you know I'm not that close with anyone else, so I've just been chilling here to get over it all."
Right, I think to myself, zeroing in on the candles lit around his apartment. The smell of teakwood doing pretty well to hide the scent of weed he most likely smoked. I check my muffin again. "Ryker I'm not too busy for you. Some days I don't even feel like I'm doing shit."
"I know—"
"No you don't because if you did we wouldn't be having this conversation," I cut him off sharply. "You think you know it all because you can read people and all that weird hippy shit, but you don't. If you called me in the middle of me burning alive, I'd answer you." He flinches from this information, and slumps against the wall in the foyer.
We sit in silence. I glare at my muffin. "Can't believe you tried to bribe me with flour," I shake the delicious quick bread. His lips twitch.
"It's my mom," he mumbles.
"Obviously."
"Don't be mean," he snaps. "I was moving all my dad's shit into his new house, and he was bitching about her, and I couldn't stand it. I lashed out on him, and he looked so hurt. He can't understand how I still sympathize with her, but she's my mom..."
"And she hurt him," I added quietly, and it ignited a fire under his ass.
"Exactly! But I still fucking care, and I hate that I do, but I do." He scratches his head, pulling at the strands of his hair. "I hate what she's done, but I keep holding onto the memories before it all, and she never hurt me, not intentionally. She loved me."
"She loves you," I correct, my tone sassy.
"Shut the fuck up."
"It's true," I shrug.
"I just...is it wrong for me to still care?" He sounds so lost, and my heart aches for him and his family. Ryker's tough. That's for sure. All of his family is. They've been taking hits forever, but they've remained together all this time.
"I don't think it's wrong at all," I tell him honestly. "It's your mom, and my memories of her are as bright as yours. She was a sweet woman. My mom loved her, too. It's just unfortunate that there were some lies. I see where your dad is coming from, but he shouldn't get upset with you for feeling the way you do. You should talk to him."
"I will."
"And her," I advise, referring to his mom. He hesitates, but nods his head. "You need a hug?" I offer with a light smile. He sneers, telling me that's the last thing he needs from me, but I open my arms anyway, watching his attitude dissipate. He cracks a smile at me, and walks over to hug me. I smack him upside the head. "I'm not school, you don't get to ditch me like that."
"Fuck, Storm, you're so clingy. No wonder Rainy doesn't like you." I scoff. She likes me...right? He goes into the kitchen, and comes back with a beer in his hand. He sits in a leather chair opposite of the leather couch arm I'm sitting on. "How's she anyway?" I chuckle, thinking about our little interaction in psych this morning.
"She's recovering from last night." She in fact did not brush her teeth this morning, her breath reeking of alcohol. I rather that than some sort of Thai or international food breath. "You know that date my mom was freaking out over during the wedding?" He nods his head. "It's happening."
"Oh, you and Raine?" He sips some of his beer, getting excited when I confirm it. "That's fun."
"Yeah it's fun and all, but it's scary as fuck," I finish the muffin, balling up the paper and throw it at my best friend. He watches it bounce off of his shirt, and drop onto the floor. His legs twitch, wanting to pick it up. Ryker can be a neat freak sometimes. "I don't even know what she likes." I know I said I'd wine and dine her, but what if it isn't her speed? Maybe she'd like something more simple like going to a fair, or maybe her version of a fancy date is going to a baseball game. Nah. She likes to dress up, clearly she's a girly girl at heart. At least, I think she is.
"You could always ask, you know," he reminds me.
"But I want to surprise her." I want her to be wooed, and happy, and waiting for the next one. I want her to be curious about how I could top it. I'd like to think of myself as a romantic. I just haven't found the right one to want to spoil, but the more I hang out with Carter, the more I believe I'd be happy to spoil her.
"Well good dates involve wine, food, and no sex."
"You know everyone says you shouldn't have sex on a first date, and I don't understand it. Why not finish with a bang?" I bite the inside of my lip in thought.
Ryker gives me a bored look. "It leaves more time for you to talk and get to know her mind rather than the inside of her pussy, you dick."
"I mean the pussy part sounds good to me," I chuckle, laughing a little harder when Ryker calls me a nasty name. "I'm kidding. We haven't even had sex in...a while." Not the usual, penis to vagina kind of sex anyway. I'm definitely not complaining. It's been a good learning time for me, slowly figuring out what she likes, sexually and not.
"So what's another night without getting your dick wet?" I guess he had a point there.
"You have any ideas about what to do after dinner?" I ask him, knowing he's going to come up with something good. I said it before, Ryker is a teddy bear. And now that he's getting somewhere with my sister, he's even more of one. He's basically a plushy now.
"Actually," he trails off, chugging down the rest of his beer. "I have a few."
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