Cold as Ice

For what must have been the fiftieth time, I leaned over and said, "Shut your mouth, Johnny."

He'd been making fun of the horror movie that he, my brother and I were watching, since the opening credits. It was getting a really good part, and I was getting fed up with Johnny's commenting, and I knew Ash was too.

Johnny leaned in my direction, slightly between Ash and the couch. "Why don't you make me?"

"Don't you dare tempt me." I growled.

"Gee, I'm sooo scared." Johnny raised his hands, fluttering his long fingers in mock fright.

"You won't be so cocky when I put my fist in your throat."

He made a face. "Oh, as if you could."

I smiled. "Your mouth is sure big enough." Leaning back into my spot in the corner of our sectional couch, I sipped on my Cherry Crush, satisfied.

Johnny leered at me, as he leaned away also. "Touché, young one. But I regret to inform you that your mouth is much, much bigger. One might go so far as to say it dwarfs that of a horse."

"I don't have a big mouth." I said, and set my empty soda can onto the coffee table. "You're an asshole."

"And you're a bitch." Johnny retaliated.

"Dickwad." I hissed.

He narrowed his eyes. "Slutbag."

I raised my eyebrows. "Whoreface."

"Guys!" Ash slapped the couch with both of his hands, making a loud thwack sound. "If you don't mind, I am trying to watch this movie, and you two are making it difficult to do so. If you must, finish this argument somewhere else, or otherwise there is to be not a single peep out of either of you until the damn credits roll!" He looked at Johnny; he looked at me. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal," I tucked my legs under myself and sank deeper into the corner, fuming silently.

With a smile sticky-sweet and bitter as molasses, Johnny nodded. "Of course, Princess Ashley."

For the rest of the movie, Johnny and I kept quiet. He said nothing about the (completely unnecessary) amount of naked girls, and I said nothing about how fake the gore was, or how much the ending upset me.

As the end credits rolled, I turned to notice Johnny looking at me. The television cast an eerie glow on his face that made his high cheekbones stand out and the silver flecks in his eyes sparkle. The corner of his mouth lifted, and quickly, I looked away before he could accuse me of staring at him. Ash stood up and turned to me, flipping his shaggy brown hair out of his tired eyes. "I'm going upstairs, I have a History report due tomorrow that I haven't even thought about yet."

"Are you taking that with you?" I nodded toward Johnny.

Ash shrugged. "If he wants to come up, he can."

"I'm staying down here. Slasher movie marathons are my fave." Johnny said, stuffing his mouth full with a fistful of popcorn, and crinkling his nose at me as I glared at him.

"All right, then," my brother turned toward the stairs, and hesitating, glanced back at us. "Try not to rip each other apart, okay?"

"No promises." Johnny said, and winked at me.

"Gross." I rolled my eyes. "You stay on that end of the couch, I'll stay on this end. Got it?"

"Sure thing, Kiddo. But don't come crawling to me, looking for my big, masculine embrace when you get scared."

I ignored him, and focused on the telivision screen, where the beginning credits for Texas Chainsaw Massacre began. My cell phone vibrated. I slid it open and read a text from my best friend, Bailey Taylor, telling me she was on her way over. I replied, warning her that Johnny was here.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Johnny, taking his eyes away from the bloody scene of Leatherface's birth.

"Bailey. Not that it's any of your business." I said.

"Oh, you mean the really skinny one with ten thousand piercings?" He threw a piece of popcorn at me, and I caught it in my mouth. "Hmm. Impressive,"

"Johnny you know who Bailey is. She's my best friend. And thanks."

"You're welcome - I told you your mouth was big." He said.

I frowned. "Go fuck yourself."

"I tried that once and I fell out of bed."

A small laugh escaped my lips, turning my frown into a smile. "Clever."

"Thank you."

The door opened, and Bailey burst in, shivering wildly. "Hey guys!" She exclaimed, and threw herself on top of me, breathing, "Avery, you're so warm!"

Laughing, I wriggled out from under her and offered her my blanket. She snatched it like it was her last hope. "What are we watching?"

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre." Johnny informed her, stretching his arms out and crossing them behind his head.

"Decent enough," Bailey speculated. "Pass the popcorn, fatty."

"Excuse me?" He raised his eyebrows, licking his lower lip.

"I said, pass the popcorn." She repeated. "Please,"

"What did you call me?" Johnny buried his hand in popcorn and stuffed his face again.

I rolled my eyes. "She called you a fatty, you big jerk. Now can we have the popcorn? Since you probably filled that massive bowl with the whole box."

"You're not going to get brownie points by being so mean to me, little girl." He said through the fistful of popcorn in his mouth.

"I don't want your dumb brownie points." I stood up. "I'm getting my own popcorn, if there's any left. Want anything, Bay?"

Bailey nodded. "Coke, please."

"Yuck." Johnny stuck out his pink tongue. Bailey stuck her double-pierced one out at him.

I looked at Johnny. "Yuck? You? Tell me about it." I stretched and went into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was only one bag of popcorn left in the box. Johnny had popped five whole bags all for himself. I threw out the box and all the plastic wrapping he'd left on the counter and put my bag of popcorn in the microwave. "You know, the least you could have done was thrown out the wrappers, you lazy slob!" I shouted.

"I left you a bag." Johnny's voice came from directly behind me.

I jumped, and my hand flew to my chest. "You scared me."

"I know." A corner of his mouth pulled up.

"Why are you smiling?" I folded my arms.

"No reason." He said, and looked away from me, taking the last can of Cherry Crush out of the box on the counter behind me.

"Hey!"

"Hay is for horses." said Johnny, cracking the can open and taking a big gulp.

"Stop it. You know that's my favourite." I tried to slap his chest, but he grabbed my wrist with his big hand. I was now trapped between big, mean Johnny and my marble countertop. "Would you just give it to me?"

"Neigh," He said, and took another gulp. "That means no in horse."

I tried to tug my wrist free, but Johnny held it tighter. "Johnny, give it to me."

"Give it to you, huh?" He somehow managed to get my other wrist in his hand, still holding the can of my precious cherry soda away from me. He set the can far away on the counter and separated my hands, pinning me against the counter. "Okay. I'll give it to you."

"You're a pervert. That's not what I meant. I want my Cherry Crush!" I butted against him. His chest was so hard that it hurt my head.

"Chill out, Kid. It's just soda." He chuckled.

"No. It's more than that, now. It's a symbol of triumphing over the forces of evil - namely, you." I pouted angrily. "And if it's just soda, why don't you just give it back?"

"Because..." He seemed to be searching for the right thing to say; then, his eyes lit up. "Now, it's more than that. It's a symbol of triumphing over the horses of evil - namely, you."

"You are the definition of a stupid jerk." I stomped both of my sock-covered feet over his, but he didn't flinch.

"You're kind of hot when you're angry, you know that?"

I blinked. "And you're ugly no matter what mood you're in."

"Ouch." He leaned down, coming a bit closer to me than I would have liked. "That cut deep."

"Deep into your cold, black soul. I bet." I spit in his face.

"Well, aren't you defiant?" He leaned closer still, his body gravitating toward mine. His hips pressed me against the edge of the counter, which started to hurt. My wrists also hurt from his long fingers being wrapped tightly around them. I took in a slow, deep breath.

I noticed he smelled good. Like cinnamon and sex appeal, if it were possible.

I knew my brother's best friend was good-looking, and I knew a hundred girls that would kill to be in my place right now, but I hated Johnny. And I wanted him to let me go. I bit my lower lip and stomped my heel onto one of his feet, grinding it in.

"That doesn't hurt." said Johnny.

"I hate you." I told him.

"I know you do." He replied.

"Let me go."

"Don't count on it, kid."

"Stop calling me that." I yanked one of my wrists free and smacked him. I thought I'd have enough advantage to pull the other free and break away, but Johnny was one step ahead of me, wrapping one long arm around my waist and pulling me up off the ground, spinning me in a half circle in an attempt to control my convulsing body.

I felt his lips at the edge of my ear, his voice strained as he gripped me tightly. "I'll call you whatever I want to call you."

"No, you won't." I jerked my hips to the left, and bucked my legs wildly, landing a hard kick in between his legs.

He went down quickly, and I escaped with my Cherry Crush, Bailey's Coke, and our popcorn. "This isn't over, bitch!" Johnny yelled after me as I skidded into the living room.

"C'mon, let's go downstairs before he comes after me."

Bailey jumped up with the blanket around her shoulders Superman-style, grabbing Johnny's bowl of popcorn, and we bolted down into my basement, locking the door behind us. I could hear Johnny running down the hallway, sliding to a stop in the living room, and then coming toward the basement door. He tried to open it, and when he realized it was locked, he kicked it. "You can't hide down there forever!"

I sat down on a beanbag chair and took a long sip of my soda. "Ah... the sweet, carbonated taste of victory."

"What happened out there?" Bailey asked, as she turned on the plasma television and set up my Nintendo 64. "It sounded like World War III."

"Johnny was being... Johnny." I muttered. "He tried to take my Cherry Crush, then pinned me when I tried to take it back. So I kicked him in the... in his... well, you get the point."

She made a face as she handed me a controller. "Ouch?"

"Well, he wouldn't let me go. What was I supposed to do? Let him wrestle me?"

Her expression changed, her eyebrows falling and her lips forming a line. "You know why he does that stuff to you, right?"

I set down my can and controller and took my hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall freely down to my chest, my black bangs resting just above my left eye. "He likes to ruin my life."

"Avery," said Bailey, briefly looking up from the stack of games on the floor in front of her. Her piercing cat eyes set their emerald fury on me. "Come on."

"What? Are you implying that it's one of those oh, I like you a lot, so I'll annoy the shit out of you kind of deals?"

She nodded without looking at me, picking out Mario Kart 64.

"Your implication is incorrect."

"No, it's not. He's crazy about you, Avery. You can see it in his eyes." Bailey blew on the game cartridge and blew in the N64, then stuck the game in and turned it on.

"The only thing I can see in his eyes is ice." I said, fiddling with the thumbstick on my lime-green see-through controller. "I hate him, he hates me."

"Hate is a strong word." She said, starting the game.

"I know." I said. "And I mean it."