Pictures on Silence

The door closing actually woke me up before the shower did, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. I sat up after a few minutes, rubbed my eyes, and jumped. Ryan remained asleep in the bed adjacent; I had forgotten about us sharing a room.

Trying to be quiet, but not really succeeding, I cracked my knuckles, all the other joints in my fingers, and my toes. Then came my ankles, shoulders, and elbows. I winced at the sound when I pressed my fists to my back and leaned on them to crack my spine.

Ryan's eyes opened and he blinked a few times. "What are you doing?" he asked groggily. Smiling awkwardly, I tilted my head to one side, then the other, resulting in six sickeningly loud pops. "That's weird, Angie."

"I do it every morning," I informed him. "Plus it's not like it hurts; it's only the release of nitrogen from my joints."

"I didn't know that," he said, sitting up. Ryan stretched, and I thumped backwards onto the bed as to not let myself watch. Looking at friends like that is weird. We're friends, right? I asked myself. In reply, the deprecating voice in my head berated, Don't be such a bloody child.

"You know what else is weird that I noticed?" Ryan asked, pulling on some tight pants. Oh, you silly boys and your tight pants. But how nice they do look. I wish I had the figure to wear pants as tight as those. Or maybe I don't. I think I'd look kind of weird in those. Wait, what did he say?

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Sorry, what?"

"You sleep with your arms and legs crossed." I raised myself to my elbows and focused on his face. He smiled and shrugged as Spencer came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Just an observation."

I shrugged a shoulder and gather up some clothes. "Any idea why?" Ryan asked.

Again I shrugged, this time shyly. "I don't know," I said reclusively. "Maybe it's a subconscious defence mechanism. Like I only feel safe like that." I met his eye. "I don't know," I repeated, going to the bathroom. I don't like talking about myself, I told him mentally.

Everyone sat in Brendon and Jon's room when I got out of the shower. Combing my hair out in front of my face, I leaned against the doorway and watched whatever the hell it was they were watching. After a minute or so, Spencer looked over and yelped, which made everyone else jump and emit a similar noise.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "You scared the shit outta me."

"Well, thanks for scaring the rest of us, too," Jon said, hitting him with a pillow.

"She looked like that fucking girl from 'The Ring'!" Jon, Ryan, and Brendon's heads all swung in my direction and I ruffled up my hair and put out my arms like a zombie.

"Okay, that is creepy," Brendon said.

I flipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. "You guys need to watch better movies," I stated, going to make myself look human.

As I leaned onto the bathroom counter to put some mascara on with my green eyeliner, Jon appeared in the doorway. "We're thinking of going out and walking around town," he said. "Maybe catch a movie or something." I nodded, tossing the tube into my makeup bag. "You changed."

I looked down at my camouflage tank top, red plaid skirt, green tights, and black boots, and then back up at him. "Yeah. I had planned to wear this for a show, but since I cannot this time round, I figured, why let it go to waste?"

Jon gave me a questioning look. "You must be the only one to mix camo and plaid and not look like you should be in an asylum," he stated. I laughed and followed him out, grabbing my jacket and black messenger bag on the way.

Out in the hallway, Brendon made me twirl around. "Nice outfit," he said. "We'll just hide you in the fashion police show up."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Bren."

We ended up coming back to the hotel after about an hour, and the guys decided they wanted to go swimming. Begrudgingly, I allowed myself to be persuaded and promised I'd follow in a few minutes. Put on all that makeup for nothing,[/]i I ruminated as I pulled on my swimsuit. Looking at myself in the mirror as I braided my hair, I stuck out my tongue and grabbed a towel to wrap around my waist.

I heard the guys yelling, splashing, and having a good time from the hall. Suppressing a smile, I adjusted my black sunglasses and exited onto the deck. Spencer waved frantically before flipping off the diving board. I started for the deck chairs.

"You're not seriously going to try and sunbathe, are you?" Brendon asked, standing about a foot away from the edge. "You'll turn into a lobster." He laughed. "But you'd match your hair." I smirked and pushed him in as I walked by. After dropping my towel and sunglasses, I made for the diving board, but my stroll was interrupting by Ryan tackling me into the pool.

I spat out water and glared jokingly at Ryan's wide grin. "You do realise, of course, this means war," I stated. "I challenge you to a jumping contest!"

"I accept!" he shouted in reply.

My foot jostled to the music as my fingers deftly moved the wooden needles and yarn. I'd had enough socialising with the crew and clowns offstage for the past two hours, so I put on my headphones and occupied myself with what I'd done for the past week and a half.

I knitted.

Just let it sink in for a minute.

Knitting: that thing that you always see old ladies doing on park benches when they're not feeding pigeons or talking to themselves. Although I share their conversation skills, Angie Callaghan is not an old lady, in no way, shape, or form. You better believe it.

I glanced down at the approximate six feet of white scarf trailing across the floor. Physical proof of how incredibly bored I got sometimes. I hummed along with the new song that came on my iPod and ignored the rest of the world.

Someone sat down on the couch against which I leaned and picked up the scarf. Pausing, I looked backwards at Spencer. His lips moved.

"Come again?" I requested, pulling out an ear bud.

"You knit?" he asked incredulously.

"Apparently." I grinned at his unspoken word. Smartass[/]i. "What did you think I did backstage? Turn into a marlin and perform Hamlet?"

"Sleep," Jon replied, sitting on the arm of the couch. "You seem to like doing that."

"Says the man who can't function without Starbucks," I retorted, continuing to loop the yarn. They both went to change, leaving me with my music for a while more.

Brendon sat down on the floor next to me and felt my creation between his fingers. 'If you were going for wearing snow, you got it," he stated. I laughed, as he held it out to its full length. "That's a long scarf."

"Yes, Brendon, it is. I had no idea we were having a stating the obvious contest." He stuck his tongue out at me. "I'm actually just finishing." I quickly finished off the last row and knotted the end to keep it from unravelling. "Bella." I stood up and wrapped the scarf around my neck, posing for Brendon, who gave me a thumbs up.

"You speak Italian?" Ryan asked, coming over.

"I only know a few words and phrases," I replied, nodding. "I've been meaning to learn."

"What else can you say?" Brendon asked, moving to the couch.

"I can tell you to sit down and shut up." They both laughed. "As well as say 'What an ugly face'."

"I'm sure that comes in useful," Ryan said, rolling his eyes, still covered in makeup.

I swung the scarf off my shoulders and around his neck. "Que bel giovane," I complimented, pinching his cheek. He made a face and swatted my hand away, while Brendon laughed.

"Why are we speaking in tongues over here?" Spencer asked.

I winked. "Because that's how we roll." My eyes darted to Ryan who fingered the scarf thoughtfully. I smiled. "It was a compliment, love," I told him.

"I knew that," he said, throwing one end over his shoulder. "I'm stealing this, by the way."

"Why is this hotel so fucking cold!" Brendon yelled from the other room. Sitting on the couch, both wrapped up, Spencer and I laughed. His head appeared in the open door connecting our two rooms. He smiled toothily and chirped, "Goodnight, kids!"

"Goodnight, Spaz," I sang back, getting up. Bren pouted and I heaved a dramatic sigh. "Goodnight to you, too, Bren." Laughing, I skipped into the bedroom as Spencer realised, "Hey!"

"You seem awfully chipper," Ryan observed as I came dancing out of the bathroom. "Should I be looking forward to another long conversation about which is better: comic books or D&D?"

"I thought we settled that," I said, climbing into the freezing cold bed. "It's a stalemate because, while comic books offer intellectual stimulation, Dungeons & Dragons is more social."

"Plus you get to kill stuff with swords," he added.

I laughed. "Well, that's a given." Ryan turned off the light and I pulled the covers up, letting out a yawn that turned into a growl. "I can't sleep when it's this cold, but I'm so exhausted."

"Me too." I put an arm behind my head and stared at the dark ceiling. Lights from the city seventeen floors down twinkled outside the window. "Why don't you sleep over here?"

It took me a whole minute to recognise that Ryan had spoken. When I finally did, my head bolted in the direction of his blob of shadow. "What?"

"I don't know. It'd be warmer and we'd both fall sleep faster." He paused. "It's just an idea."
I don't think my shaking was one hundred percent due to the cold. "That'd be kind of awkward, don't you think? I mean, I've known you for less than two weeks."

"I'm not suggesting we sleep together," Ryan explained emphatically. "Just... next to each other. Like an igloo, only a bed. I don't know."

I bit the inside of my lip. Little ol' painfully shy me sleeping next to a nineteen-year-old guy. An incredibly attractive nineteen-year-old guy. For whom sleeping next to probably meant getting yelled at by my dad and getting eaten by my friends if said persons were to find out. "You can say no."

Hesitating for a moment more, I threw the covers back, climbed into Ryan's bed, and lay facing away from him. "This is just so I can sleep," I whispered, shutting my eyes.

"Of course," he whispered in reply.

He shifted and my eyes shot open when skin touched skin. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of guy friends and they all treat me like their personal couch, but I consider myself rather green when it comes to boys. Especially when sleeping within five feet of them.

Try less than five inches.

"Christ, your feet are cold."

"I have bad limb circulation."

Pause.

"Goodnight, Ryan."

"Goodnight, Angie." I shut my eyes tightly; with his head turned to the side and my hair pulled over my shoulder, Ryan was breathing on my neck. Just don't think about it, I told myself.