Unfamiliar Ceilings

My head hurt when I woke up. Really hurt. Like somebody was insistently rubbing sandpaper against the inside of my skull, extremely slowly. I didn’t open my eyes when I woke; it seemed like too much trouble. I spread my hands out and moved my arms, feeling the cold sheets on my bed.

So at least I kept a couple of rules.

Very slowly, I cracked my eyes open and I was glad the curtains were drawn across the window. I sat up, again a slow movement, and stretched my arms over my head. My phone buzzed violently from my jacket, which was slung over the end of my bed along with my AC/DC vest. I crawled down the bed to my jacket and felt around the pockets, eventually bringing my phone out. I flipped it up, revealing a text message from Mark that read:

“Leila, Stephanie and I have gone out for the day. We won’t be back late, but maybe you can get Johnny to show you around? Anyway, your choice – Dad”

So, I wasn’t in trouble it seemed. I sat for a moment, my bare legs folded underneath me, trying to think about what had happened the night before. I had drunk, I remembered that. And that atrocious Hot Dog game with Jake, Johnny and his brother. I remember dancing with Johnny – if it can be called that – then sitting in the living room with Jake. Going off to find Johnny, going out into the back garden. Going into that gazebo. Dean finding me.

I grimaced. I remembered Dean being drunk, and me sobering up, and then he went and got a bottle of vodka. I remembered drinking that, then realised that’s where my memory got hazy. It tasted like strawberries and made me giggly. So, we drank that, then what happened? Dean was tickling me. Yeah, that happened. Then...

Oh no. I wanted it to be my mind playing tricks on me, but I definitely remember being far too close to Dean. I remembered wanting to kiss him, and how his thumb had stroked my wrist. Please tell me that didn’t happen. I’d be so embarrassed if it did, since I’m not that fond of him. Am I?

I put my face in my hand, and then proceeded to comb my hand through my hair. After all that, I can’t remember how I got home without getting into trouble. I combed all the tangles out of my hair and straightened out the white tank top I had on – the one I had no recollection of changing into – and stood, feeling a draft against my bare legs. I must’ve fallen asleep before I could find bottoms.

I went into one of the drawers near my vanity table and found a pair of black short shorts. After putting those on, I combed my hair properly and pulled it back into a ponytail, in order to keep it out of the way in its unruly state. I found my iPod on the table where I’d left it yesterday and picked it up, putting both earphones into my ears and pressing the shuffle button, turning the volume to full blast, ignoring the little jolt of a headache it set off.

I picked up my vest and denim jacket, along with a couple of other items of clothes I had to wash. Once I’d put the wash on, I was in the kitchen, dancing around to The Church Of Hot Addiction while I cooked myself a breakfast of egg and toast.

Since my music was turned up to full, and I was dancing around Mark’s kitchen like a complete twat, you can imagine my shock – almost heart attack – at noticing, mid-twirl, that somebody was standing, staring through the glass of the door leading into the back garden. I jumped out of my skin and dropped the thankfully empty plate I had in my hand.

Johnny was standing there, gawping at me and practically wetting himself. I unlocked the back door and let him in, slapping his arm hard and saying, “You fucking prick, I nearly had a heart attack!”

“I seem to give you those a lot,” he laughed. “But that was so funny. And it also explains why you didn’t answer the front door.”

“Shut up,” I smiled, dishing my food up. “Want some?”

Johnny shook his head and sat on the island countertop. “Nah, but I’ll take some juice.”

I rolled my eyes, but walked over and grabbed the juice from the fridge, accidentally slamming the door closed. I winced, and heard Johnny do the same thing. I looked over my shoulder and saw him rubbing his head. I handed him his juice and sat on the counter opposite.

“Hungover?” I asked. Before he could beat me to it.

“Clearly,” he laughed. “That game annihilated me, and I was almost first to stop.”

“Yeah, I hated it too.”

He swallowed a mouthful of orange juice. “But I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“About what?” I asked, looking down at my plate and taking small bites of my breakfast, which I really didn’t feel like eating now.

“Well,” he laughed. “I thought you didn’t drink!”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “You can blame your brother for that. He blackmailed me.”

“With what?”

“...Shut up.”

Johnny laughed at me and put his empty glass down beside him, with me following suit and putting my still full plate down beside me. I leaned back on my hands and started to kick my legs back and forth, gazing out of the window at the summer morning playing out in front of me. From here, I could see the sun shining, a few fluffy white clouds scattered around it with big, bright blue patches here and there. I could imagine the bumble bees buzzing through the shrubs at the end of the garden, stupid and dizzy from the pollen.

“Did you kiss him?”

My head snapped back around and my eyes grew wide. “N-No...I don’t know. I can’t remember, Johnny.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, if you like my brother, go for it. Just be careful of him.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “He’s not my type. So, nothing to be careful about.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Not my business. I remember falling around the garden looking for you for like, twenty minutes, because it was half twelve. I shouted your name, and then five seconds later you came stumbling out of the gazebo at the back.” He paused and laughed again. “You made me piggy back you home. You’re a funny drunk.”

I covered my face with my hands and peaked out through my fingers. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Johnny.”

“Nah, it was funny,” he smiled, reassuringly. “So, plans for today?”

I removed my hands and traced a pattern on top of my knee. I hadn’t thought about what I wanted to do today. I know I didn’t feel like going out, partially because I didn’t feel like running into Dean or anybody else I may have made a fool of myself in front of last night. Not that I cared what Dean thought of me, or anything.

“Well, I was going to carry on painting my room,” I said. “You could help me out?”

“I can’t paint,” he said, holding his hands up.

“Can you follow lines with a pen?” I asked.

He nodded his head and I smiled. Perfect. I motioned for him to follow me up the stairs and along the landing to my room. I rummaged around in the little pencil case in one of the drawers on the vanity table and pulled out a metallic gold pen. I handed it to Johnny, and then explained that he could go over the quote on the wall with it. I grabbed a pencil and began work on the other wall, drawing the outline of a woman’s face in profile in the right hand corner of the wall opposite to Johnny. I decided she’d take up the entire wall, and I’d paint her in blues and greens.

“You’ve got some good ideas going on in here,” Johnny mumbled, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on tracing my lines exactly. “What you doing when you leave school?”

“I’m going to the arts college, back home,” I smiled slightly. I added a little detail around the woman’s closed eye and thought about the shading of it while wondering if I’d need more paint, since I used a lot of the blue on the other wall.

I turned around just as Johnny stepped away from the wall he was working on. “What does it mean, anyway?”

I went and stood behind him, smiling faintly and reciting the English translation by heart:

“It is the uneasiness of the moment, the epidemic that spread, the feast is finished one descends, the thoughts that freezes the reason, fallen lids, grey face, emerge the ghosts of our bed, one opens the latch of the grid, of the hole that one calls home.”

Johnny stared at the wall a while longer, then looked at me. “You know French?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I know that song by heart, English and French.”

“Oh, what song is it?”

I smirked. “Protége Moi.”

He just rolled his eyes and dabbed my nose with the gold pen.

*****

Johnny stayed at my place for most of the day, pigging out on whatever found we found in the cupboards and watching Donnie Darko a couple of hundred times so we could figure out what was going on. We were currently seated at either end of Mark’s big couch, legs spread out with a big bowl of popcorn between us, when Johnny’s phone started ringing.

He answered with a quick hello, and paused for a couple of minutes while the person on the other end spoke. Johnny said, “I can’t mate, I’m at Leila’s right now.”

There was another long pause, and I tried to pay attention to what Frank the Rabbit was telling Donnie to do, but I couldn’t help overhearing; he was sitting right next to me, after all. From the corner of my eye, I saw him cover the end of his phone with his hand and turn to face me.

“You want to come over to mine for a while?”

I shrugged my shoulders, momentarily forgetting that Dean would be around. And if I’d actually kissed him, I knew there’d be no end to the fun Dean himself would make of me. I groaned internally, realising it was too late to tell Johnny no, I’d much rather stay home thank you very much. I stood up from the couch and walked up the stairs to my room. Once there, I pulled on my boots and combed my hair again, fixing my face with extremely light make-up of just foundation and mascara.

Walking down the stairs, I retied my hair in its original loose ponytail at the back of my head, grabbed a jacket off of the banister and joined Johnny at the open front door. I grabbed the spare keys from the table next to Johnny and followed him, down Mark’s front path, along the street to the house next door.

Dean was already waiting, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, wearing just a pair of straight-legged blue denim jeans with his hair all messed up and his arms folded across his bare chest. Great, we abandoned Donnie Darko for Dean Owens, half-naked and looking as cocky as ever.

“Alright mate,” Dean said as he turned and walked back into his house. He didn’t seem to notice me. Yes!

I walked close behind Johnny, who followed Dean up an extravagant staircase to a wide landing, then along to the last door on the left side. The walls were painted a deep bloody red, and a queen size bed stood near an open window, covered in black sheets. The walls were slightly obscured in places by posters of bands that I’d heard of, but only vaguely, and a couple of photographs.

I stood awkwardly as Dean jumped onto his bed and Johnny sat at the desk chair. They struck up a conversation about the previous night, both telling stories of what had happened to them. I sat down on the floor when it looked like I’d be there a while – Dean challenged Johnny to a game of Halo.

“So, basically I was walking around, completely gone,” Dean laughed. “Don’t understand how I knew I had feet, and then I found old Boozy here.”

Dean shot me a smirk, before turning back to the game and killing Johnny’s player effortlessly. Johnny was sitting with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth again, brow screwed up in concentration as he stared at the television screen perched high up on a bracket on the wall.

“Fuck off,” I mumbled, picking at a loose thread on my shorts. “I wasn’t drunk until you guilted me into drinking that strawberry stuff with you.”

Dean barked a laugh. “Got to admit it was funny.”

Kind of. Maybe. I didn’t say anything; I just sat on the floor and glared at him through narrowed eyes. Johnny had died, again, and let the controller fall to the floor in front of his chair. Dean also placed his controller on the floor and reclined on his bed, putting his hands behind his head. Johnny’s phone started ringing again and he glanced at the caller ID. His face whitened a little bit and Dean laughed.

“Jenna?” he asked, smirking at his brother, who gulped and slid his phone up to answer it. Before he stood up and left Dean’s room, I heard the distinct sound of a female voice, shouting at the other end of the phone.

“Who’s Jenna?” I asked, watching the closed door as if I could see straight through it.

“You may have seen her last night,” Dean said. “She was with Johnny most of the time.”

I nodded slowly. “And he’s in trouble with her?”

“To say the least.” I glanced at him and he’d sat up and put his weight on his elbows. “She’s liked him for ages, but everyone knows he’s got a thing for Anna.”

I nodded again and laughed. “And she’s jealous?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders and reclined yet again, hands behind his head. “Basically.”

I hmm-ed for a second, before going back to picking the thread on my shorts. I could hear Johnny shouting from a little way away – I assumed he was downstairs – and there was a mounting tension. I didn’t know if Dean felt it too, but I felt far too uncomfortable sitting there with him.

Before I could stop myself, I said, “Look, I just need to know. Did you kiss me last night?”

I watched him for a reaction, but didn’t really see one. He turned his head and looked at me, smirking his little face off while I was dying from embarrassment at the bluntness of what I’d said.

“What if I did?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me, please. So I know if I have to go find a hole to curl up in and die.”

“The idea of kissing me makes you want to go find a hole and die?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not what I said.”

He smirked again. “So you’d like it if I kissed you?”

I sighed, frustrated. “Again, not what I said.”

I stood up and folded my arms over my chest, moving to stand right beside his bed. I looked down at him expectantly, one eyebrow arched. He just looked back at me and kept that smirk going.

“Can you just answer my question?”

“Which one?”

I groaned and let my arms fall by my sides again. I turned on my heel and made to leave his stupid room, with his stupid photos and stupid him. I felt his fingers close around my wrist and looked back over my shoulder briefly before he gave a sharp tug, pulling me back to where I’d been standing. We were close, again. I felt the heat from his bare torso radiating onto me, despite the breeze coming in through the window.

“Did you kiss me last night?” I repeated, looking up at him squarely. He didn’t release my wrist, and neither of us moved. He seemed closer every second, though. Something flashed in his eyes, lighting them up in a way I wasn’t fond of. He gave me a really smug look and used his other hand to tilt my chin up.

“I might have.”

“Did you or didn’t you?” I snapped, wrenching my head away and scowling.

He laughed. “Calm down.”

“Answer me,” I demanded, beginning to pull my wrist away. I felt his grip tighten and he was trying to hold back a smile, curling the corners of his lips up. The tension mounted again as he looked at me, purposefully staying silent.

“Almost,” he laughed and let me go. “Johnny came calling.”

I let go of a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding in. I was relieved, but still a bit disappointed. Why was I disappointed? Well, Dean was practically gorgeous, and I never would’ve admitted that to anybody, even under Nazi torture. I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t think he was good looking, but I knew his personality was what made him intolerable to me at the same time.

He was back on his bed, controller in hand and for some reason I missed the contact; the closeness of him, the feeling of his breath tickling my face...but I’ll shut up. This time, when I turned to leave the room, he didn’t grab my wrist. I closed the door behind me and ran straight into Johnny, who looked as though he’d just been threatened for his balls.

“You going home?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m getting tired, and I said I’d cook for my dad and Stephanie.”

That was a lie. I made no such promise, but I decided I’d do it anyway, since I felt guilty about taking advantage of their trust.

“Okay, well,” Johnny smiled. “I just got off the phone with a friend and we’re all going out tomorrow. Fancy coming?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, I don’t want to annoy your friends or something.”

“You won’t.” He laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s swap numbers, and I’ll ring you tomorrow and see if you’ve made your mind up.”

I smiled and nodded. It sounded fair enough. He handed me his phone, while I handed him mine. I entered my number and saved it into his address book quickly. He held my phone in the palm of his hand just as I did the same thing. We said our goodbyes, and I made my way back over to Mark’s.

*****

“Leila?” I heard the front door open first, then the sound of my dad’s voice calling my name. I’d changed out of my shorts and tank top, putting on a pair of simple grey skinny jeans and an Ed Hardy style vest top and made a start on a meal for the three of us. I hadn’t given a lot of thought to Johnny’s proposal to have me meet his friends the next day; cooking kept my mind busy. I’d see how I felt in the morning.

Mark, Stephanie and I all sat around the dinner table; Mark thoroughly enjoying the food I’d made while Stephanie chatted on to the both of us. I was listening, but I didn’t have anything to say. Once she’d ran out of steam, Mark picked his head up and asked what I’d done with myself all day.

“Oh, Johnny was over for a while, then I was invited to his place,” I said, twirling my spaghetti and veggie sauce on my fork. Mark just gave me a friendly smile and a nod of approval before going back to his own food.

“You’re getting awfully close to Johnny,” Stephanie said. “You fancy him?”

“No!” I spluttered. “He’s just really nice to me, and I only really know him.”

Stephanie nodded slowly and gave me what she thought was a knowing smile. Lovely woman, but she didn’t half get her signals crossed sometimes. Well, all the time. The rest of the meal went by in silence, and once we were finished, Stephanie went and made us all a coffee.

“So,” Mark said, once we were left alone. “You had a good day?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Good, good.” He smiled vaguely. “I suppose you have plans for tomorrow?”

I bit my lip slightly and cradled my chin in my hand. “Maybe.”