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“We’re having a girls night,” Vic replies with a bright smile and pushes past me.
It's nice of them to force me to take a shower and feel somewhat normal again. It's been too long since I did anythingother than curl up in bed with Elaine, or venture as far as the front door for the food I ordered.
I haven’t talked about everything that happened, but whatever Vic is guessing has her pretty angry. Every time we make eye contact her initial emotion seems to be rage before she gets herself in check and smiles at me. The pitying kind of smile that is a large factor is what has been keeping me away from my friends.
I love her for caring, I really do.
Reya does my dishes while I shower, and Vic seems to have pulled every blanket she could find to the living room. We all work together, chaotically, to make a cozy looking bed on the floor.
They even go as far as to move a couple of chairs in an attempt at a fort. It’s not great, but the kids get a kick out of it which makes me smile for the first time in days. Their laughter is medicine, reminding me that the world doesn't begin and end with one particular person.
There’s popcorn, and gummy worms, and ice cream. We all snuggle, and laugh, and watch Disney movies until we can’t keep our eyes open. The young ones are the first to fall asleep, and I look over Dahlia’s sleeping face to see my friends already looking over at me.
“I love you, guys.”
Vic reaches her hand out to rest on my arm. “We love you, too. Stop trying to suffer without us.”
“I feel a lot better.” I glance down at a sleeping, precious face. “They helped.”
“I figured they would.”
30
Miles
“Okay, get the fuck up.” I hear the words echo in my half-asleep state. What an annoying dream. “Seriously, how are you still passed out right now?”
Why is being unconscious not enough for my brother to stop stressing me out? I have to deal with it in my dreams too? That doesn’t seem fair.
I groan at the unmistakable sound of my curtains being thrown open, followed by a flood of light that hurts my unopened eyes.
Okay, definitely not dreaming.
What the fuck?
“No grown man should be asleep at one in the afternoon unless they’re dying. Are you dying, Miles?”
“How the hell did you get into my house?” I grumble as I pull the sheets over my face.
“Mom has a spare key. I took it.”
“You can’t just let yourself into my house. This is whyyoudon’t have a spare key.”
“Stop being so dramatic. We’ve been worried about you, dumbass. You can’t even bother to text mom back?” he asks in a pissy tone.
"It's only been…" I trail off, not knowing how long it's been. It feels like a couple of days have gone by since I last saw him, but I've worked a lot more shifts than that. “Why isn’t mom the one here yelling at me?”
“I haven’t started yelling yet, Miles. I’m not that cruel. I’ll give you a few minutes to prepare yourself. Putting on some pants would be a good start.” I squint my eyes open to peer down at myself and of course, I’m only wearing briefs and my blanket is pushed to the bottom of my bed.
“Get out.”
“Timer’s going. Four minutes.” He grants my wish and walks out the bedroom door, but doesn’t close it.
Not that cruel, my ass.
It takes me at least five minutes to get dressed, brush my teeth, and run my hands through my hair until I look somewhat presentable. The extra time is the least I deserve for being rudely awoken.
He’s sprawled on my couch with a bag of my favorite chips in his hand. I reel in my annoyance in hopes that it’ll help this go quickly.
