Summer Nights

After I took my shower, I made a turban out of my towel, so that my hair would dry faster. I walked out slowly, checking for any sign of human, more specifically the human Jake. When I was sure the coast was clear, I walked to my room. I locked the door behind me and then plopped down on my bed. I took out my computer, turned it on, quickly checked my email, and then, after noticing it was perculiarily quiet, walked out my room and towards my parent’s. I knocked and then entered.
There was no one there, signifying that my parents were truly gone already. I felt sort of rejected as I turned around. Braxton was there, and I jumped a mile, having just gotten the shit scared out of me.
"Whoa!" I said, placing a hand over my heart.
"Hey, just so you don't think Mom and Dad forgot about you and you're birthday, they rented rooms for us at this super nice, five star hotel. And there's a surprise, but I'm not allowed to tell you what." He was holding a bowl of popcorn, and he threw some in his mouth.
"...Ok?" I said. Well, it was more of a question.
"Yeah, call Emma," he said.
"Why?"
"Mom said you can take a friend. We're leaving tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? So soon? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
He shrugged, about to turn.
"What about Mom and Dad? Are they going to go with us? I don't want to go anywhere without my parents."
"Ungrateful," he muttered, before exitting.
"Wait, Braxton!" I called after him but the idiot was already gone. I went back to my room and jumped on my bed. I grabbed my phone of the nightstand and called my dad. He didn’t answer, which was totally weird. Had they already boarded the plane? Jesus. When had they left?
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. They never left so suddenly without any goodbyes or plan sharing.

I called Emerald, my all time best friend.
“Hey Emma!” I greeted her by her nickname. Like my parents, she had gotten an atrocious name: Emerald Edith Edison. At least she had a decent nickname.
“Hey Wyn!” she said back.
I got the point, quickly inviting her to come with me. I gave her the details, well, as much as I could give her considering that I didn't know too much myself. She seemed very excited to go to a five star hotel. Who knows why?
“I can’t wait to go! It’s going to be so exciting! Are they throwing you a birthday party or what?”
I responded, “I think so. Or something of the like. Braxy’s keeping it a secret.”
“Oh, sucks. But hey, it’s more adventurous like this.”
I sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I guess.”
She giggled. “If we’re leaving tomorrow, can I sleep over?”
“Sure, but I’m warning you, Jake’s over here too. His girlfriend kicked him out. I think she accused him of cheating.”
“Oh, so they broke up?”
“Don’t even think about it!” I scolded, annoyed and amused at the hope in her voice.
“You keeping him for yourself?” she asked, laughing.
“Yeah, of course,” I said sarcastically. “You know how much I love him!”
“Oh my gosh, if you're still on about what he did in the eighth grade-”
I heard a crash coming from downstairs. There was yelling and rumbling.
“Shit, something happened, Emma. I got to fly. See you later.”
“Oh, okay. So can I come over?”
“Yeah, be here at twelve, okay?”
“Sure, bye!”
I hung up and then shot out of bed. My feet carried me down the stairs, and then I rushed into the kitchen. There were around five broken dishes on the floor.
“You idiot! What did you do?” I asked Jake, who was standing in the middle of the crime scene.
He looked shocked. “I’m sorry, I was getting a plate and then they all came crashing down on-”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “God.”
I went over to the kitchen closet and got a mop. After gathering all the broken pieces into a pile, I bent down and began putting the bigger chunks in a bag. Jake bent down to help me.
“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to.”
“I know. It’s fine,” I said brusquely.
There was a small pause, the only sound the clinking of the ceramic pieces.
“What is it with you?” he suddenly asked. His voice was gruff, and I froze, looking up at him. “Why are you such a bitch to me all the time?”
My eyes squinted at him in a death glare. “Seriously? You’re seriously asking why I-”
“Agh!” he yelped, and retracted his hands from the glass.
Immediately, I saw the blood that was gathering at the opening of a large gash in his skin. The idiot had continued with the shards and obviously cut himself.
I sighed, standing up. “Well, shit. Leave that there,” I said quickly. I motioned for him to follow me, and I led him to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet while I bent down to get band aids and disinfectants from under the sink. When they were laid neatly on the counter, I kneeled in front of him and hesitantly grabbed his hand.
His skin felt rough and warm in between my fingers as a tingle ran down my spine. I ignored it as best as I could, because the gash was now dripping blood on the tiles. I blotted the blood out with gauze pads, slightly distracted by how close we were. I could hear his calm, gentle breathing, but I refused to make eye contact.
I grabbed the antibiotic cream and ran the oily stuff over the gash. He didn’t hiss or flinch or anything like that. I was suprised by his lack of passion towards the definitely-painful injury. The cut was obviously deep.
When I was finished, I finally chanced a glance into his green eyes. He looked back down at me, and, after a moment in which I was lost in emotion, I realized he had an amused glint on his face.
“What?” I asked suddenly.
He grinned ruefully. “Can I have my hand back?”
“Oh!” I immediately stood up from my kneeling position and rushed to the sink. I put the stuff back in the cabinets, aware that he hadn’t left. In fact, he was leaning against the shower door, staring at me.
When I finally straightened my back, his expression had changed from one of amusement to one of wonder.
We kept a steady gaze on each other.
“Hey. Thanks for that.” he said, after the impasse.
“Yeah, no problem,” I said hesitantly. Then I tried to brush past him and out the door. I didn’t succeed, because he stepped in front of me and put his arms out to block the way.
“Wait a second.” He spoke softly.
I shifted my gaze to my feet. “Do you need something?”
“I'm trying to thank you,” he said, a trace of anger running through his voice.
I took a step back. "It's fine. You don't owe me anything."
He sighed, and, exasperatedly, he ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. "Look, Wynter, at some point, a long-long time ago, we used to be friends, right?"
I looked him as he coolly leaned against the door frame. "Things change. Stuff happens. People become idiots," I said roughly, giving him a hint. This was the first time he'd ever tried to pacify things with me. Why all the sudden change of heart? Was he finally, after all these years, feeling bad? Or did he just want something from me?
He grinned. "Are you implying something?"
I couldn't stop the corners of my lips from lifting. When he smiled, no matter how much I hated him, I just couldn't stay angry.
"Look, Jake, I have to go."
I stepped past him and was halfway down the hallway when Braxton emerged from his room. "Oh. Hey. What happened downstairs?" he asked. His gaze flitted behind me, to where Jake probably was.
"He can explain," I muttered. Too much of Jake for one night.
“I dropped the dishes,” I heard Jake explain as I reached my room. “And I cut myself picking up the pieces.”
“You idiot. My mom told you to stay away from the kitchen,” Braxton laughed carelessly.
“Oh, Braxton," I called, remembering what I'd wanted to tell him. "Emma’s going to be here at twelve,” I announced. "We call dibs on the TV."