Words, Words, Words

I waited downstairs for Amelia, rather than in my bedroom, so I wouldn’t have to hear all the noises Mackenzie and Tom were making. The television was turned on, flashing bright colors from across the living room but I wasn’t paying attention to it. My eyes were locked on the front door, waiting so impatiently for Amelia to come barging through at any second.

Finally, the doorbell rings, echoing off the walls in the house. I jump to my feet, taking long strides over to the door before unlocking it and pulling it open. Amelia stands on the other side, her hands in the pockets of a big, black coat. She’s staring at her feet, but when the door swings open, she looks up at me and a small smile appears on her pretty featured face, “Hi, Oliver.”

“’Ello, Amelia,” I respond, opening the door wider and stepping out of her way, “Come in.”

She steps in, walking past me slowly as she slips off her coat and sets it on the armrest of the couch. I notice then that she’s wearing a dress and her hair is curled; she looks put together. I walk over to the chair beside the couch and sit down as she takes a seat next to her coat. We sit there silently for a moment, staring at everything but each other.

I’m not sure what I want to say. I didn’t ask her to come over so her so I could tell her the kiss was wrong; it was wrong, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt right, so fucking right. The way she fit in my arms, the way her lips felt against mine; it was better than I had imagined it would be. But I can’t just come out and bluntly tell her that.

As I mess around with my lip ring, trying to find the perfect words, I stare at a framed picture of me and Tom across the room. I have my arm draped over his shoulders and we’re both laughing; probably at something dad said. Just as I turn my head to look at Amelia, I hear footsteps cascade down the stairs.

Tom and Mackenzie emerge into the living room, their hands locked. Tom’s whispering something in her ear but stops when he sees Amelia. He stares at her for a moment before glancing at me. I try to read his expression, but it’s blank; he’s emotionless.

Amelia’s head turns towards the couple, her dark hair covering her face from me, but I can tell she’s staring at Tom. No one says anything for a long moment, letting the tension rise awkwardly until Mackenzie slips out of Tom’s grip and shoves her hand in Amelia’s face as she says, “Hi, I’m Mackenzie.”

Amelia stares at Mackenzie’s hand for a moment before glancing at Tom. He looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets. Amelia turns back to Mackenzie and shakes her hand, “Hi, I’m Amelia.”

“It’s so very nice to meet you, Amelia,” Mackenzie says, her spread wide across her face. She walks around the couch and takes a seat by the surprised girl. “So you’re from America, too? That’s awesome. Where, exactly?”

“California,” Amelia replies, her hands gripping her coat. I stare at her; I can tell she’s growing angry with every word that passes through Mackenzie’s mouth. But she’s not mad at Mackenzie, she’s frustrated with Tom. She wants to lash out on him, but not with Mackenzie and I around.

“Oh, me too! Small world, huh?” Mackenzie says, her high pitched voice sounding even louder as she talks quickly, her accent making her words unclear. She’s about to go on when Amelia puts her hand up, stopping her.

“I’m sorry, I just need – I just need to -” She says, but drops her sentence with a shake of her head and turns a little to look at Tom. Her brow is furrowed, her frown is deep and evident upon her face as she says infuriated, “Tom, are you mad at me?”

I glance at Mackenzie who looks downright confused before looking up at my younger brother. He stares down at Amelia, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones as his cheeks turn a bright red color.

“Amelia, I’m not jus’ mad! I’m way past jus’ mad,” Tom blows up, his hands shooting out as he grips the couch. His knuckles turn white as he tries to control his sudden temper. Tom never acts out and when he does, he goes big. Amelia flinches when his hand comes near her face but she keeps her eyes locked on his, her expression filled with surprise.

“What did I even do?” She asks. I can hear the worry in her voice. She’s scared she’s losing her best friend, scared that his protective arms have let her go into the harsh world filled with bitter words and mercenary glares. I feel sympathy for her as she stares up at him with an innocent look on her face. He stares back grimly, his death grip on the couch never lightening.

“Nothin’! Yeh didn’ do a thing! And that’s exactly it! Yeh selfish, Amelia, yeh so selfish,” Tom cries, “I always took care of yeh, cleaned up all yeh messes. I was everything a best friend should have been. But wha’ abou’ yeh? All yeh did was use me, withou’ a thank you here or there. Yeh came crying to me, had me put all the pieces back together only to go screw yehself over again! And wha’ did yeh ever do for me in return, Lia? Tell me, was there anythin’ yeh really did for me?”

Amelia stares up at Tom, bewilderment swept across her face. Her brown eyes glisten under the lights of the living room as her mouth opens a little, trembling for a response – but nothing comes. When her mouth finally shuts and her eyes lower down to her hands, Tom scoffs.

“Exactly,” He grumbles lowly, finally letting go of the couch and taking a step away from the torn girl. His hands retreat back to the comfort of his pockets as he slowly slips back into his usual self, “Yeh never did anythin’. And I can’ take it anymore, Lia. I really can’. I’m sorry.”