A Wise Girl

I was frozen for a few seconds. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that Tuesday was currently hugging me. She wasn't the type of person who opted for displays of care and emotion, and yet here she was on the Jenkins' driveway in front of her crappy truck, hugging me. You could tell all of this from how awkward the embrace was, her body in a completely tense state. It didn't take long before my instincts took over, wrapping my arms around her slim waist and pulling her in towards me.

I buried my head into her neck, inhaling deeply loving the way that she smelt like honey and the ocean. With my acceptance of the embrace, Tuesday seemed to relax and she leaned in further, resting her face on my chest, causing my heart to hammer against my rib cage. Her strawberry blond hair was soft and comforting and induced this warm feeling in my stomach that I couldn't deny was perfect. I could have stayed like that forever. She brought her hands up from my shoulder to the back of my neck, playing with the hair there almost as though it was nothing. I thought back to all the times that I had been with the girl and I had soon come to realise that I was hooked on her.

I was hooked on her like the drug that her company was. And just like that, I realised just how much this girl meant to me and the thought that I meant anything near that to her, made my heart skip a beat. I knew exactly what kind of girl she was. She was scared. Scared of loving because she was afraid that she could not be loved. She was scared of falling because she was afraid of the crash, But most of all she was terrified of trusting because the thought of someone relying on her was petrifying and she couldn't understand why anyone could ever feel that way about her. It killed me that she didn't see just how perfect she really was and I knew that I couldn't make her see what I saw, but it was worth trying. She was worth every moment and I knew that I would fight for her. And just like that, the warmth was gone.

Tuesday was pressed against the car door, eyes wide as she stared at me. Her eyes caught me once again giving me this feeling of electrocution and drowning. The deep indigo colour that surrounded the electric blue of her iris almost moved with her emotions. One second she stood there looking at me like she was having a heart attack, but in just a split second her composure returned and she gave me one of her effortlessly carefree smiles. Her smiles always looked like that, indifferent and dismissive, they were never genuine but they were still beautiful. I often found myself wondering what it would look like, her real smile. Would it be lopsided or small and shy? Would her eyes crinkle and would dimples cave in even deeper into her cheeks? Would her eyes light up like the fourth of July or would they sparkle with mischief. I felt like a teenage, female protagonist in a story right now, but it was moments like these that I truly grasped everything, just how deep I was in it.

"Let's go get some food!" She chirped as she stepped to the side to open the passenger door of her car. With this odd kind of grace, she slid into the old leather seats and leaned out of the window that always seemed to be open and gave me a questioning look, a small smile still on her lips. "You coming, Murphy?"

I looked down at the keys in my hand and mumbled small curses at whichever God was out there before walking around to the opposite side of the car and getting in. I adjusted the mirrors and leaned over Tuesday to pull her seat belt over her and secure it into its clip. My skin touched hers and a course of tingles made their way up my arm before I shook them off. Repeating the process for my own seat belt, I started the car and began the five minute trip to the local Burger King. I wasn't sure why it bothered me that she called me Murphy or mate, it just felt wrong. Like she was distancing herself from me by not using my name. Sometimes she would call me El or Otts or something equally as emasculating, but a part of my heart would melt whenever she did it.

Tuesday's music played softly in the background and she hummed along to it, bobbing her head up and down, her wavy red locks dancing around her face from the movement. There was something wild about her, untamed and warm, guarded yet open. Tuesday was one large contradiction and it was breath taking. She was puzzling and it made her even more endearing. Just when you felt that you knew her and that you were getting somewhere with her you would discover something new and it would throw you off completely, because there was this whole comletely new and unknown aspect of her that you never even dreamed of.

"Order us all whatever you're getting, but I want a Strawberry Shake, please." She recited as she handed me over a 50 dollar bill, flashing me her 1000Watt smile. Much to my dismay, I returned her smile with one of my own and rolled down my window. I really needed to get a grip. This girl had me wrapped around her finger, she knew it and she hated it, but that never stopped her from using it to her advantage. Worst part is; I didn't care. At all.

"Welcome to Burger King, what can I get for you?" I cleared my throat slightly.

"Hi, can I get five medium Whopper meals with four Cokes and a Strawberry Shake, thanks."

Tuesday leant over me and corrected the order. She placed her hand on my thigh to balance out her weight so that she didn't topple over, yelling a little bit so that she could be heard by the woman serving us. "Sorry make those three Cokes and two Shakes, please."

At some point the intercom recited the cost of the order but I was too absorbed in the hand that was currently rested on my thigh to balance her. She pulled back and looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her thumb ran circles across my thigh as she looked at me with slight concern. I could feel her warm hands through my jeans and it felt like a sparkler was being dragged over my skin in circles, but instead of pain I felt satisfied and content.

"El?" Her use of my nickname practically threw me into over drive and it felt like someone was poking away at my heart, taunting me and causing the butterflies in my stomach to do somersaults that a gymnast would be envious of. Her pointed gaze was morphed with slight concern as she searched my face for a signal that something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. This moment was perfect.

I snapped my head up, averting my eyes from her and mumbled a small response before putting the car into first gear and rolling forward, careful not to let go of the clutch to early or it would stall. Her hand did not move from its place on my thigh and it was driving me insane. I wanted to lean over and press my lips to hers. I couldn't. She told me it had to stop. Too serious she said. It was getting to serious and it was going to ruin our friendship. I didn't want a fucking friendship, I just wanted her to be mine and nobody else's.

But of course she was the only girl who wasn't obsessed with the thought of white picket fences with your high school boyfriend and novelty aprons at spring barbeque's. No. She just wanted meaningless fun. But it really wasn't meaningless. Not anymore. We stopped at the window to pay up and as Ginger handed back the change she smiled at us. I put the change in the centre console before looking back up.

"Didn't know you two were a thing?" She commented as she looked down at the hand that Tuesday had resting on my thigh. There was a slight twitch at her lip before she looked back up and forced a smile onto her thin lips. Beside me, Tuesday scoffed and lifted up her hand off my thigh, using it to make shooing motions as though waving off the comment.

"Nah, Ginj. He's all yours." She threw back and winked at the now blushing girl. Ginger mumbled something incoherent and handed us over the bags of food and a cup tray, which I then handed over to Tuesday who smiled at Ginger and told her she'd see her tomorrow. If I weren't too busy grumbling at her quick dismissal about our relationship I would have been laughing at Ginger's reaction to being embarrassed in front of me, the so called golden boy.

As we proceeded to drive home, Tuesday opened up the bag and popped a few fries into her mouth. I shook my head in amusement as she proceeded to take a few more fries and feed them to me. Moments like these, I could honestly see us being something more. It wold work. Being around her was natural it wasn't forced or complicted or uncomfortable. It was simple and automatic, I didn't have to think through every action and word, I could just be myself.

"Gabe's going to kill me if we give him the smaller ones." I muttered, swallowing the fries. Gabe was beyond territorial with his food and if we were to give him the fries with an obvious amount taken out of them, he would flip the table in anger. I remember once when Paean had stolen one of his cookies, he literally tackled the boy before he proceeded to take the half eaten cookie out of Paean's shocked hands and demanding that he baught him another cookie. I understood the fact that teenage dudes were always hungry and needed their food, but Gabe was just infatuated with the stuff.

"Well then we can't let that happen, can we Otts?"

*

I swear to God he will be the death of me. I looked up at Blay and contemplated decapitating him. "Those are my chips!" I cried as I protected my food from the hands of the hungry teenager in front of me. Blay, much to my frustration, reached over and took another one of my chips. I never had a problem with sharing, in fact, sharing was just something I did without thought; but when someone takes something off me I lose my shit. The difference being consent. If it's mine and you don't ask permission to take it, I will gladly rip you a new arsehole and cram whatever you've taken up said excretal passage.

"They're called fries here in America, Tee." Blay bit back as he dunked the stolen chip in my ketchup. I scowled at him in disbelief. First my chips now my sauce, this boy clearly had a death wish. I know that after living here for a year I should have adapted to their terminology, bu in all honesty I did not give the slightest fuck. We speak english. Which originated in England, thus the English way of speaking English was correct and the Americans can go fuck themselves with their terms. The word jail however was the exception. Gaol is not how one should spell jail. How does one even assume that the way to pronounce gaol is jail. Thats like saying you have to pronounce grope as 'gripe.'

"I can damn well call it anything I want, Jenkins." I hissed as I swatted his hand away from my food. After Elliot and I had got home we all gathered in the dining room, happily eating and chatting about what was due for homework tomorrow. I had given out the food, receiving a warm hug from Gabe who saw anyone who provided food as a saviour. I knew that Blay hated coke so I opted to get him a shake just like me which earned me a sloppy kiss that I shrugged off smiling broadly up at the idiot.

"Someone's defensive." He teased. I hated it when he did that. It was something about the obnoxious way he spoke that made me want to decapitate him with a spoon.

"Someone's dense." I snapped back.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Not!"

"Are." I pointed at him in frustration. We blinked at each other a few moments before we began to laugh uncontrollably at how immature we'd just acted. After a few minutes we'd managed to calm down completely.

"C'mere." Blay said as he pulled at my wrist pulling me towards him, he guided me down onto his lay where I happily sat eating my food. I fed him a few of my chips and leaned into him happily munching away as he rested his chin on my shoulder. Blay was oddly hands on today, usually opting to lightly punch me on the shoulder or flick my nose in an annoying gesture. But as his arms wrapped around my waist to secure me on his lap, I found myself not really caring that this was unusual considering that he regularly treated me like a little brother, it felt nice; simple as that. Normally I would have cringed away from displays of affection like this. But since Blay was clearly as detatched and dismissive as me, I figured it was harmless and as I said; I liked it.

"If looks could kill, I'd be a corpse." He whispered playfully into my ear, his warm breath fanning out against my exposed skin. I looked up and saw Elliot staring daggers at Blay causing me to throw my head back and laugh in complete amusement. Of course Blay would try to piss El off. The boy didn't have a sensible bone in his body. I know that whatever Elliot felt about me was a lot stronger than I wanted and I wanted to distance myself from him, but I certainly do not want to hurt the boy. I wasn't the kind of girl that took liking to inflicting pain, but if Elliot couldn't back off, the pain was all his doing.

"Don't worry, Jenkins you'd be a very attractive corpse." I piped up, patting his arm, still keeping my voice low enough so it remained only for us to hear. I could feel Blay's body shaking in silent laughter as he pressed his mouth against my shoulder to muffle the sound. I couldn't avoid the small smile that made it's way onto my lips as I relaxed even further - not that I knew that that was possible - in his lap.

I took another bite of my burger, chewing happily as Blay pinched my chin.

"I must admit, Atlanta that beanie looks better on you than me." Gone were the attempts of trying to remain quiet, Blay was openly bating Elliot, wrapping his arms even tighter around me as I squealed lightly at the tickling sensation of the movement. I bit back a laugh and angled my face so that our lips weren't far apart coming to the conclusion that I may as well join in the fun and get back at Elliot for the jealousy stunt earlier. As I said, I wasn't vindictive but I do enjoy a joke and having some harmless fun.

"Aw Blay-Blay we all know you look downright sexy in this beanie." My voice became slightly huskier as I smirked at him, knowing what his game was and enjoying my part in it. Elliot and Blaydon always had this unhealthy competitive nature towards each other which was odd, because Blay was usually as laid back as me.

"Tuesday, did you just call me sexy?"

"Get a fucking room." Elliot hissed from across the table. I hide to bite my tongue in hopes that I wouldn't burst out laughing, ruining the little game.

"Why don't we?" Blay asked as he placed his lips at my jaw. I smirked and just nodded knowing quite well that we'd most likely end up playing Call of Duty, slapping each other in an attempt to keep the other quiet. I slipped off of Blay and he stood up, smirking at Elliot. I shook my head at the two before pouncing on Blay's back and allowing him to carry me to his room just down the hall.

"You're a mean person, you know that?" I chuckled as I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Maybe." He teased back before opening the door to his room. I reached out and shut the door behind us and it closed with a louder thud than I expected. "Now that was just pure evil." Blay commented, me still remaining on his back as I looked around his room, not really caring what a shutting door would make the others think was about to happen. I'd never actually been in Blay's room. The walls were covered in band posters, most that I knew and loved and a few that were new to me.

"I love Volumes." I muttered as I looked at the poster, proudly displayed over his small TV set, a few controllers scattered on the floor. The dark walls made the room seem smaller than it was, but surprisingly everything was neatly organised. One wall of his room, the one adjacent to his bed, opposite the door had a large painting of a city skyline at sunset. It was beautiful and you could tell that it was hand painted.

"They're pretty amazing." He chuckled as he fell back onto his bed, crushing me under his weight, but I could tell he wasn't putting his full weight on me.

"Blaydon!" I shrieked, gasping for air as his shoulder lay on top of my torso, successfully winding me from the impact.

*

"She never screamed like that for me." Brandon muttered in frustration as he collected the left over trash from the table. Gabe pat his back in somewhat of a condescending form of comfort.

"It's okay dude. I'm sure she's just doing it to make him feel better." He paused for a few seconds. "See, complete silence." Bran nodded, dismissively as he bagged the trash and threw it in the larger metal bin that was in the kitchen.

When she had been on his lap and he was whispering into her ear a smile had made it's way on to her lips and it pissed me off so very much. It wasn't her usually smile, no. It was the most genuinely breath taking smile I had ever seen. I wasn't angry that she was smiling, in fact I fucking loved that smile. It was so raw and beautiful and it showed a part of her that once again baffled me. What fucking aggravated me was that the smile wasn't caused by me or even directed at me. No. It was all because of that fuck face of a smirking asshole and I hated it,

I sat there grinding my teeth imagining all the ways I could absolutely annihilate Blaydon Jenkins.

It was going to happen.

He was going down.