A Sunrise On the East Side

The other line was silent for a moment or two, the person who had called hesitant on speaking. Clearly, it wasn't a telemarketer as I had thought, and I was about to hang up when I heard a throat clear on the other end. "Kenley?" they questioned, apparently not sure if they had actually called me. The voice was familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint where I knew it from. "It's uh, Jack," they stated, making everything click in my brain.

A small, confused smile stretched my lips and I was sure my forehead wrinkled between my eyes slightly. "Um… Hi, Jack," I greeted, the words finding an odd medium between statement and inquiry. "Don't take this the wrong way, but how'd you get my number?" I asked, twisting the napkin around the fingers of my free hand. I didn't even realize I was doing it.

Jack chuckled, amused by his answer. "I kind of asked my mom to ask your dad. She found a new hobby in bitching at me because he's never home to talk to," he told me, never faltering in his cheery tone.

I snorted, just imagining his mom trying to catch my father before he left for work or after he got home. It would have been near impossible. I didn't blame her for yelling at her son for presenting her with such a task. "Yeah, he's a hard one to catch," I stated, my eyes flitting up to see him as he answered his own phone which had began vibrating furiously. He had known this whole time that a boy was trying to get a hold of me. "I'm actually with him right now. Do you mind if I call you back, or was there…" I trailed off because my father was holding a hand up to me and shaking his head as he talked to the person who had called him. My heart sank, knowing I'd never get to hear the end of that ridiculous movie because he'd be busy nonstop again.

Jack seemed to notice the disappointment held in those last few words, because he didn't say anything. He was patiently waiting for something to happen on my end or for me to speak again before he spoke.

"I have to get into the office," my father sighed, his hand over the speaker of his phone as he told me. "Things go to Hell when I'm not there, it would seem. I'll take you home, so you're not stranded," he assured, and was back to the other person.

Keeping a reasonable mind was tough this time. I knew he had more important things to do, but I had just begun to enjoy this. "Sorry about that," I said to Jack, waving down the waiter and asking for a box and the check. "Forget everything I just said. What's up?" I asked, changing my question completely.

He let out a long breath, stalling to see if anything else would make him wait. "It had just been a while since we ran into each other by some coincidence. Honestly, I had gotten sort of used to it," he laughed. I was glad that he couldn't see me because I blushed a deep crimson to go along with my smile. "I was wondering if there were any parties tonight that I needed to just happen to show up at."

If possible, my cheeks flamed even brighter. "Unfortunately," I emphasized to let him know that I really thought it was unfortunate, "I don't think I'll be at any parties for a while." I didn't notice I was pouting until the waiter taking the money for our meal gave me a strange look. Wiping it off my face, I stood up and switched the phone to my other ear then grabbed what was left of my lunch. Slowly, I followed my dad out of the restaurant.

"What a shame," Jack voiced sadly, somehow still managing to sound like his normal sprightly self. "I guess we'll just have to let fate do its thing then, and see each other on the street or at Starbucks?" he wondered, disappointment peeking through the minimal cracks.

Leaning against the passenger side door of my dad's car as I waited for it to be unlocked, I sighed morosely. "I guess so." There was probably much more I could say. I could make plans with this boy who missed seeing me for reasons I could never understand. I could tell him to drive to my house right now and we could do whatever he pleased. But I didn't want that because I was too afraid of what he was feeling. "I'll talk to you later, Jack," I muttered softly, knowing he'd still be able to hear me as I slipped into the car.

"Bye, Kenley," he responded just as softly before the line went dead as he hung up.

I pulled my phone away from my ear, listening to the click it made while it locked itself again. The screen was black and dirty from being pressed against my ear and the whole device was warm from the small amount of use. At least the latter part wasn't just me, as I had thought. I flipped it over, rubbing it against a spot on my shorts that wasn't obscured by the styrofoam in my lap and held it atop the box once it was clean. Part of me wished it would ring again instantly, making the screen come to life with the number I still didn't know, making the background of space that much better to my amber eyes. Then the logical part of me took over and told me that it would be a bad thing if he called back right now.

I hadn't even realized that my father had gotten in the car or that we were already on the road. He was off the phone, apparently confident things would be okay until he got there. Thanking him for lunch and the few hours we'd had together, I unlocked my phone to busy myself. He only smiled at me, turning back to the road before I could face him. My phone was on my recent calls, Jack's number at the very top. I took a second to memorize it so that it stuck long enough to add it to my contacts and then hurriedly entered it. I stared at it a minute, wondering if I really should hit the tiny, bright blue done button or if I should just press cancel. It wasn't that I thought I would never want to call him. It was just my fears sprouting again, worried about why exactly I would call him. With another sigh, I knew he would probably call me anyway and I wouldn't always have those seven numbers in that particular order floating in my brain. So I hit done and locked my phone, tucking it into the back pocket of my shorts so I could force my mind away from it.

I was happy when we got back to the house, going straight to the kitchen to put away both of our leftovers while my father hurried upstairs to change. Though it was only May, the warm air of the afternoon was sticky. After a glance out the back windows while standing straight again, I discovered why. Clouds were rolling in to meet the puffy, white ones that were scattered across the sky currently, but I was pretty sure these large, grey ones would take over with no problem. A storm was coming and, with a grin, I hoped it was thunder and all.

When I went back out into the living room, I was met with my father scurrying down the stairs, buttoning the last few buttons of his shirt with his jacket over his shoulder. Quickly, he kissed the top of my head and grabbed his briefcase before bidding me goodbye as he ran out the door. I stood there a moment to listen to his car start back up and reverse out of the driveway. After that, it was silent, even the birds quieted by the coming weather. I was starting to settle into this, beginning to get used to the artificial noise that I would soon fill the rooms with. It probably wasn't a good thing, but it would simply have to do for now. I made my way up to my bedroom, already thinking about what music I would blast from my speakers as I sat in bed on my laptop with the windows open to let the smell of spring blow in.

The hours passed and several CDs were played through. The sky progressively darkened as the storm came closer, the rain holding off except a few sprinkles here and there. The wind had picked up, making wind chimes all across the neighborhood produce music and sent a few things flying around my room with the right momentum. I had switched positions on the bed a few times, sitting against the wall or lying with a pillow propped behind my head or resting on my stomach, really finding it to be a lazy sort of day after having a somewhat hectic morning. Waiting for it to rain seemed like anticipating a big event for me as I fidgeted around, glancing out the window every few minutes. When it finally poured, I would be ready.

For what seemed like the thousandth time this hour alone, I yawned while I stood and stretched. Having glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, I realized I hadn't been away from the bed for entirely too long. Basic human functions were coming back to me as the evening began and I knew instantly that I had to pee and that I was hungry. I padded to the bathroom first, taking care of that necessity before heading to the kitchen to heat up the food from the restaurant. As I was taking the last step from the living room into the kitchen, I heard it. Rain pounding against the roof, hitting off of windows, barreling toward the siding on the house. I sprinted the few steps to the back door, not even taking time to watch the precipitation before I pulled the door open.

I stepped out, being pelted the second I had the screen door open. I lifted my face to the sky, letting it get drenched while I barely paid attention to shutting the door behind me. There was something about this rain that made me focus on it and it only. The mixture of the warm air and the cold water kept everything at a neutral temperature, yet still made me shiver. I paced to the railing of the porch, hopping up to sit on the wide and now slippery wood. I breathed in deep as droplets ran down my cheeks and hung on to my eyelashes for dear life. This was wonderful and I couldn't even hide that I loved it.

Eventually though -after I had been outside for a good ten minutes- I was completely soaked through. It looked like I had been submerged in water instead of getting rained on. Much like Remy in Ratatouille when he got separated from his family. A drowned rat to the T. Carefully, I slid off the railing, knowing I'd probably still get splinters with my luck. Once my feet were flat on the porch, I made my way back over to the door and turned the knob after pulling the screen door open. Upon pushing on it, I came to the dreadful conclusion that it had locked behind me. So I pushed on it one more time for good measure.

"This isn't happening!" I yelled, the words getting louder as each one flowed from my lips. I kicked the door before backing away from it and hurrying across the porch and down the steps. I ran up the driveway, protecting my already wet head poorly with my arm. It made me look more ridiculous, I was sure, but I really didn't care anymore when I reached the front door. Again with turning the knob. Again with pushing on the wood. Again with finding it locked. When the hell had it gotten locked? "Unfair!" I screamed, still trying repeatedly.

"Kenley?" a voice drifted over to me, the volume higher to make it over the rain. I turned to face my right, squinting through the downpour to see the dark haired boy I knew that voice belonged to. Jack was running toward me from his car that was parked in his mom's driveway. The hood to his jacket fell back as he got closer, no longer serving its purpose. "What are you doing out here?" he questioned like I was positively crazy.

"I came out to get my fill of the rain. But I got locked out somehow," I whined, pounding on the door as if another me would appear inside to open it.

Beside me, Jack chuckled at my actions before bending down to look behind a bush. The vegetation overlapped the doorframe slightly, and I saw him pull something from behind it. He straightened and reached around me, his warm body pressing against my back as he put a key into the lock and turned it. I looked up at him, my expression asking him how he knew where to find a spare key to my house. "Your dad isn't very discreet. When Alex and I used to sit on my front porch in the summer, we saw him put the key away countless nights," he explained, ushering me to go in so he could follow.

"Well, I'd say that's kind of creepy," I said, going to the couch and grabbing the blanket there to wrap around me. "But I couldn't be more grateful for you right now. Do you want a towel?" I asked, still smiling up at him as I approached him once more.

He shook his head, "No, I should be okay in a minute." He then pulled his hoodie off, the arms turning inside out since they were so resistant to part with his skin. He held it up, seeming to study it as it dripped onto the floor.

I giggled at him. "Here, I'll throw it in the dryer," I offered, holding my hand out for it. But he shook his head. Confused, I reached for it again. "I'll hang it to dry over one of the chairs in the kitchen," I tried. Without a problem this time, he handed it over and I was able to bring it to the next room so it could drip freely. When I emerged from the kitchen once more, he had come into the house more, looking at the minimal pictures that hung on the walls. I took his moment of distraction to study him. His eccentric pair of Nikes, the black skinny jeans that hugged his thin legs and that he had his hands shoved into the pockets of, the grey t-shirt that was much darker due to the water that had seeped through his jacket, his coffee hair darker like his shirt and matted to his head because of the same reason. It looked much different when it lay flat, and I was contemplating which way I liked it better when he turned to me.

"Your hair used to be really long," he stated, not even phased by the blush that covered my cheeks at getting caught.

I nodded, stepping closer to him now that I had his attention. "I chopped it all off last month, I think it was. At the time, I needed a change and that seemed like the way to do it. I wish I would have thought of coming here first, because I miss my lovely locks," I told him, reaching up to touch the hair that was no longer there. It was also because I had made the observation that I had the tendency to explain things to him when he only made simple statements. I hoped he didn't notice, or at least found my babbling endearing if he did.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, looking back over his shoulder at the picture for a second. "So you're growing it back out?" he inquired when he was facing me again. I nodded, sure that it conveyed how much faster I wanted it to grow. "Good. I want to see it without the change you so desperately needed," he stated with a smirk. It would have made me blush again, but I saw the slight shiver that ran through him.

"You look so cold," I said, taking the last few steps toward him. I had thought about wrapping my arms and the blanket around him, keeping the both of us warm together. But my mind redirected in a split second and told me that it would give him the wrong idea as well as not do him much good in keeping him warm. So I took his hand instead, instantly remembering how his calloused palm had felt against my smooth fingers at the party. "Come here," I demanded, pulling him toward the couch. He plopped onto the cushion in front of me as I sat on the coffee table and swung the blanket around me to hand to him.

He took it but didn't bother to use it in any way, instead letting it set in his lap as he shifted to sit on the edge of the couch. His eyes connected with mine and I couldn't look away from his rich brown irises. I didn't even notice he was getting closer until his forehead was nearly pressed against my own since we were at the same level for once. "How are your eyes so bright? They're almost yellow," he whispered, the sound of the rain still coming down drowning it out some.

I knew that wasn't what was really on his mind. He was just trying to distract me, thinking that if he was able to kiss me without me knowing what was going on at first that I would let it continue. "Don't do this, Jack," I begged him, my voice matching his.

"Why not?" he asked, his breath caressing my face because he was so close.

"Because you're my friend, and I don't want to hurt you."

My words didn't seem to affect the final result of Jack's decision. He closed the space between us, pressing his lips to mine without a second thought. I couldn't help but to give in. My hands flew up to run through his hair, holding him closer by the wet locks. His palms rested on either side of my face, holding me in place, making sure I couldn't get away from him. I didn't want to get away. He was wrong to think that words would be a diversion from this, from making me want to keep his lips against mine. He should have known that the kiss would be, because my mind was clear of anything else but him at this moment. He parted from me slightly, and I was disappointed for a second flat. But he bit my bottom lip, making me gasp and I automatically knew what he was doing. His tongue was searching every bit of my mouth in no time and I wasn't going to be one to object.

Slowly, his hands trailed down my body, one stopping at the back of my neck and the other at my waist. He was pulling me toward him more, into his lap. Or I was doing it myself without even knowing it. Either way, I was half on the couch and half on his lap in only a few seconds. Once he was satisfied with that position, he pushed me back, careful that his weight was hardly on me as our lips continued to move in sync and our tongues danced together. His hands should have been just as cold as mine from being in the rain, no matter how briefly. But as the one on my hip found the bare skin where my shirt was riding up, it felt like his fingertips were the warmest things in the world.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I was giving him the wrong impression by letting him do this. But I wanted it, too. So I would let him kiss me for as long as he wanted.