Words, Words, Words

The sound of loud footsteps and a lass giggling wakes me up in the morning. I roll over in my bed, my legs twisting around the blue comforter as I try to shield my eyes from the blinding light coming through the blinds. A groan escapes my lips as whispered words echo off the walls and ring in my ears.

I decide to stay in my bed, figuring the voices and unnecessary stomping will fade when Tom closes his door. But of course, my little brother leaves the door open for whatever reason, the obnoxiously over excited giggles from both him and Amelia practically booming through the hallway.

Rolling over on my side, I squint my eyes to see the digital clock across the room that reads, ‘8:57 A.M.’ The moment the time processes in my head, a sneer forms on my lips. It’s too early.

I swing my legs from under the covers, letting my feet hit the carpeted floors. A cold gush of hair rushes over my body, giving me chills and forming goose bumps all along my arms and legs. I go against pulling on clothes, storming across my bedroom floor and flinging the door open.

Their not so soft whispers and constant laughing grows even louder, my anger rising with it. The sneer on my face deepens as I take big strides towards Tom’s room. Walking in, I begin my rant right off the bat, “Tom, wha’ the fuck? I’m tryin’ teh sleep and yeh somehow come teh the conclusion tha’ it’s okay teh be - ”

And then I stop.

My eyes are locked on the scene unfolding before me. On the bed, Tom lays on top a girl who isn’t Amelia at all. Her long, light brown hair, unmistakably tan skin and deep dimples are opposite to Amelia’s near black hair, light, olive toned skin and round cheeks.

I stare at her, her deep brown eyes staring back at me. Tom coughs to get my attention, but I can’t help but be somewhat stiff with shock. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Tom with a girl other than Amelia in his room. My mind races with questions and awful assumptions that make me cringe inwardly.

“Hi, I’m Olleh,” I manage to croak out, my eyes still locked on her.

“Mackenzie,” She responds quickly, her American accent sounding completely different compared to Amelia’s. This girl, Mackenzie’s voice is rough but girly and high pitched as apposed to Amelia’s gentle, shy and sweet tone.

“Nice teh mee’ yeh,” I say lowly, tearing my gaze away. I stand there for a moment, now staring at Tom. He raises his eyebrows at me after a long minute, telling me to use my vocal cords or get the fuck out. I clear my throat awkwardly before giving a little wave and shutting the door for them.

As I make my way back to my room, I catch myself wishing Amelia were here.

______________________________________

I tried to go back to bed after retreating to the safety of my bedroom but Mackenzie’s ear-piercingly loud giggles carried through the thin walls, keeping me wide awake. I lay in bed for forty seven minutes before giving up on sleep and deciding to get ready for the day.

But in those forty seven minutes and through the time I spent getting ready, my mind kept drifting back to Amelia. Everything about her seems to haunt me, even now after the apology that reckless night behind Stocksbridge three days ago. It seems as if I said sorry to lift a heavy weight off my shoulders. But after kissing her, it came right back.

It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if we had kissed once after pouring our hearts out to each other; it’s a reasonable action to take on after letting your guard down for someone. But the fact that we stayed a few more hours under that tree, bodies tangled together in a knotted heap, made that little first kiss explode into something so much more.

It would also be fine if I had stopped thinking about her that night after I dropped her home. But here I am, three days later, sitting on my bed, thinking about her. I’m currently debating whether or not it would be a good idea to call her.

I want to talk to her so desperately, to hear how she feels about the whole situation and get her take on what she thinks of our relationship nowadays. But I have this fear that she hasn’t fully forgiven me yet; that she still wants to stay so very far from me, not because of Stocksbridge but because of those seven years of constant mistakes.

I don't blame her.

Somehow, though, I push past all these thoughts, all this doubt and grab my phone from beside me. I go to my phonebook and scroll past Aaron, Abby, Ace, Adam, Allen, Allison, Ally, Amanda before getting to Amelia and staring at the highlighted name on the screen of my phone. My thumb presses the green button slowly and I stare at the screen until it connects and I can hear the loud rings coming through.

“Hello?” Her disgruntled voice breaks through. I furrow my brow as she breathes heavily into the phone – I can tell she’s trying to disguise it with little coughs and such but I can see past it.

I press the phone to my ear as I ask, “Amelia?”

A pause comes from the other end – then shuffling and then a loud cough before Amelia questions, “Oliver?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say slowly, scratching my head through my thick brown hair. I glance around my room as I try to think of something to say, something to jump start this conversation but nothing comes to mind. I stay quiet for a while before Amelia finally decides to end the silence.

“Did you want something, Oliver?”

“Yes, yes I did,” I agree quickly, clearing my throat and staring at a Lincoln Park poster I put up years ago, “I actually wanted teh invite yeh over so we could talk.”

Amelia builds up the anticipation by taking another long pause before replying, “Talk about what exactly?”

“The night behind Stocksbridge,” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek, staring down that dumb bloody poster. When she doesn’t reply, I find myself trying to spark her memory, even though I know she knows what I’m talking about, “With the tree and such?”

“Yeah, I know,” She says. Softly, she sighs before agreeing, “Okay, I’ll come over. What time should I be at your house then?”

“As soon as possible, I guess,” I say, my face brightening up as I look towards the window, so happy that I half assume to see her car already at my driveway. When I see Mackenzie’s Mini Cooper instead, I feel my smile slowly fade into a frown. But I feel better when Amelia responds.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“Awesome,” I say, my smile coming back onto my face. Silence comes over the both of us and I feel myself wondering what was wrong with Amelia at the start of the call. She sounded like a complete mess, panting, sounding hoarse and disheveled. “How are yeh doin’, Amelia?”

“I’m fine, Oliver. I have to go. See you soon,” Amelia sneers, the sour lie falling quickly from her mouth. As I pull the phone away from my ear, just before Amelia ends the call, I hear the flush of a toilet.