Coffee and Cigarettes

I parted with Libby as soon as we reached my house and waltzed inside. Bob sat on the couch, silently puffing a cancer stick while reading the latest issue of AP Magazine.

"Where's Blair?" I asked, tossing my backpack by the front door and tossing my sweater aside. He jerked his thumb towards the staircase, which I automatically assumed that it meant that she was in her bedroom.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked sternly. "Does it really take a Missing Person's Report to get you to start caring about your sister?"

"We're not speaking, Robert," I replied coldly, heading towards the stairs without a second glance.

I came to Blair's door and knocked on it gently. I heard her say that I could come in, so I entered the room and plopped down on her bed. She was hunched over her desk, scribbling something down with her back facing me, a loose pink hoodie slung over her shoulders.

"How are you today, Bee?" I asked softly, calling her by her childhood nickname.

She shrugged. "I'm fine. I've always been fine. I don't get why you're so worried."

I shrugged. "I don't know, you just seem so distant lately, it's hard for everyone to see you like this. I mean, just a few weeks ago you were always out and about doing things that made you happy. Lately, all you've been doing is holing yourself up in your room, moping around, hiding yourself from the world."

Blair spun around in her chair slowly. Her room was relatively dark, but as soon as the light from her lamp hit her face, I gasped.

Her eyes were sunken in, her lips curved into a frown, her brows furrowed and her jawline protruded slightly. She had lost a considerable amount of weight in her face, that was certain. Something definitely wasn't right.

"Morgan, this is my business. Please, just...stay out of it." she said, her seemingly hollow eyes were full of sadness and urgency.

"But, Bee--"

She shook her head. "Don't be worried about me. Take care of yourself. I'm fine, I promise. You've got nothing to worry about."

I nodded solemnly and shuffled out of the room. As I did so, I bumped into Bob. I gave him my best glare and shoved him aside to get to my room.

I hopped onto my bed, picking up my iPod and putting on a song by the Misfits. Astro Zombies, to be exact. Frank's band did a cover of it, actually. Libby and I had plans to go see their band practice, but apparently the boys were planning on hanging out before, so we were going to meet them at the garage around six-thirty.

I glanced at the clock. 4:37pm.

I groaned. I had way too much time to kill. I decided to go over to Libby's house to ease my boredom...and probably hers, too.

I grabbed my phone and called her, telling her that I'd be over at five and that we could go to get a coffee at Collin's.

"Bye, Mom. Going out with Libby." I called, heading out the door.

"Have fun, dear!"

Zipping up the hoodie that I had thrown on, I jogged over to Libby's house and knocked on her door. She opened it and ushered me in.

"Let me get a sweater and my shoes," she said, scurrying off to find whatever she needed.

In mere minutes, we were at Collin's with our regular drinks sitting at our regular table, gossiping as we always did.

Libby looked around the cafe. "Wow, hardly anyone's here," she muttered. "I wonder how come."

"Not many people know about this place," I shrugged. "And I think we're the only ones who are actually here right now."

"Not even Mikey's here," Libby frowned. "I guess he doesn't work today."

"I guess not," I replied. "By the way, I tried to talk to Blair."

Libby's head perked up. "And how'd that go?"

My facial expression went grim. "If something wasn't wrong before, it definitely is now."

"How come?" Libby asked, concerned.

"She's been losing weight," I answered. "A lot of it. Really rapidly. I'm getting really worried. But she keeps telling me to stop worrying about her."

"You're not really going to just give up, are you?" Libby asked.

"No way," I smirked. "You know me."

"All too well," she said with a grin. "Come on, it's almost six-thirty."

"Already?" I said, surprised. "Wow. Okay. Let's go."

Libby and I made our way to Mikey and Gerard's house and just as we arrived, a car pulled up and they all came tumbling out. I'm not exaggerating either. Apparently, Frank and Ray were having a duel and got a bit carried away, so they tumbled out of the car and dragged everyone else down with them. Except for Gerard, who was the driver.

Frank scrambled to his feet and ran behind me, hiding and cowering like a very small child. "Protect me, Morgan!" he squealed.

"Morgan, move aside," Ray said in a would-be menacing voice, had he not inserted a giggle or two in between.

"Should I move?" I asked Frank, as he continued to hide.

"No!" he shrieked. On cue, I moved two steps to the left and motioned for Ray to exact his revenge.

The following situation ensued: Ray tackling Frank on the lawn, Ray tickling him, Frank giggling until he could no longer breathe.

He did manage to call me a traitor in between fits of laughter, though.

Soon, practice was underway. Gerard had managed to flick beads of sweat at Libby and myself as we sat on the couch trying not to get too wet. I think he did it on purpose because he noted how uncomfortable we seemed when he started headbanging in front of us.

Considerate, I know.

Mikey kept looking back at Libby, grinning and blushing while Ray shredded his heard out and while Frank was writhing on the ground, completely enraptured by the music.

Matt, however, messed up quite a few times.

I was getting concerned, but just slightly.

Once practice had ended, Frank sauntered over to me and plopped down on my lap, completely exhausted. He nuzzled his sweaty head into the crook of my neck and I sighed.

"You're comfy," he mumbled, snaking his arms around my waist.

"And you're being kind of forward," I said with a smile.

"Do you mind?" he asked, looking up at me with his insanely gorgeous hazel eyes.

"No," I grinned.

"Good," he chuckled, re-nuzzling his face into my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Neither do I."