Plans to Make & Hearts to Break

Once William finally left the house, accepting the fact that I wasn't leaving the room to talk to him, I crept out from the cave. Quickly, I locked the front and back doors, to make sure he wouldn't just stop in if he saw me in the living room. Finally, I laid across the couch, taking the time to stare at the ceiling and try not to think.

But, of course, that wasn't happening. My mind was reeling - Danny hadn't even been gone three days yet; that wasn't any longer than usual. I've only known William for almost exactly that amount of time. Why did spending time with him feel so normal? He was a brand new part of my life but it felt like he'd been there the whole time.

This can't be good. Not at all. Nope.

Nothing made sense. Had I given William the idea that he was any more than potentially a good friend? I didn't think so - but, maybe having such a long relationship has made me oblivious to flirting. Not exactly a good thought, but at least plausible. I had to have done something or I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

My mind went through the whole scene over and over, trying to piece things together, for what felt like hours. Eventually I must've fallen asleep because I woke up slowly, with a kink in my neck from sleeping on the lumpy couch, in the daylight of the next morning.

The stress really wore me out - I slept a solid twelve hours. Midnight to noon. I haven't done that shit since high school and I felt a combination of totally recharged, and totally disgusting.

Instead of doing something rational like take a shower or work on unpacking, I went into my room. For a few minutes I dug through the boxes until I found the treasure I was thinking of - a plastic, folding easel and paints. Leaning against the wall was a half-finished painting I hadn't worked on for weeks. Painting was my biggest form of stress relief - and the past few weeks I'd been free of any major stress or totally distracted by moving. Now was the perfect time to pick the brush back up.

Setting up the living room so I could paint took some time, mostly because I had to dig through the house for some newspaper or something that I could use to cover the floor. The last thing I needed to happen was to get paint all over the hardwood floors. Ready to start painting, I picked up my brush... and my cell phone rang.

I grabbed the phone from the arm of the couch and looked at the screen - Incoming Call from Danny. I was going to answer the call when I heard the front door open - and it sounded like someone dropped a package on the porch before I heard a few sharp knocks. Curious, as I hadn't planned on getting anything in the mail... so, I set the phone down for a second and opened the front door.

What I saw was more than a little confusing. There was a small vase filled with flowers - a few large blue hydrangeas and some smaller white accent flowers. I stepped onto the porch and picked up the vase, looking around just in time to see William stepping off of my lawn and into his driveway. To get his attention, I loudly cleared my throat.

He turned around so quickly I thought he got whiplash. "Flowers?" I questioned simply, cocking my eyebrow.

He dropped his gaze, looking sheepishly at the ground. He took a few solemn steps into my lawn before speaking. "I.. um. I don't know," He chuckled. "I was out of line yesterday, really. I didn't want you to be mad at me. I'm sorry."

I pursed my lips and took a deep breath. "I wasn't mad," I finally explained, although the words came out before the thoughts were fully comprehended. "Just surprised, really. You're my new neighbor. I didn't expect... that."

He chuckled. "I didn't either, I guess. I'll take a few steps back and that won't happen again, alright?"

I nodded sharply. "Alright. It's a deal. We won't speak of it." I grinned. "What're you up to today? I mean, besides giving your neighbors flowers, of course."

"Absolutely nothing. Kinda hoping that I could hang out with that neighbor, but I'm pretty sure she hates me."

"You jerk," I faked a glare. "I don't hate you. You're trying to guilt trip me into entertaining you for the day. And it's kinda working."

"Yes!" William shouted, walking past me and into my house.

"I never said you could come over!" I yelled, skipping one of the steps up the porch and following him inside.

William didn't speak for a moment, as he was looking around the living room. "What's goin' on out here?" He questioned, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes fell onto the canvas. "Are you painting a moose?"

I pursed my lips, trying to look angry at my friend. "It's a tree, asshole."

He looked at me for a moment, before turning back to the canvas. He leaned closer to it, as if he was taking in every detail of the half-finished painting. "Nope!" He finally grinned. "It's a moose. Definitely a moose."

"Get away from my painting. Watch tv or something. I want to finish this."

William pouted at me. "You aren't very fun."

"I am also not your babysitter." I explained. "Let me paint.... please?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever," He very obviously faked an attitude before sprawling out on the couch, remote in hand and head on the armrest so he could see the TV. "Paint your stupid moose. See if I care."

"Fine, I will." I teased. "Except it's a tree. So shut it."

For about an hour William and I basically co-existed, he watching television and making comments about my 'moose painting,' and I constantly defending the painting that was most definitely a tree. I set down my brush and paints for a few moments to get a drink from the kitchen. I dug through the fridge to find my last can of Monster and when I turned back around, I could've screamed.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I snapped, practically teleporting back into the living room. "Get away from that!"

Without even flinching, William looked towards me and back to the painting. "I was just improving it," He smiled. I looked at the canvas and rolled my eyes. On the side of the tree's trunk, he'd painted the beginnings of a face. There was a thin line for a mouth and two plain eyes, one of which he'd started to add some details onto. "Also I wanted you to realize that it's definitely a moose. Look at that."

"Maybe I do hate you." I glared. It was impossible to keep up the charade of fake anger, though, and I broke with a small laugh. "Whatever. I'll just paint over it."

I shouldn't have told him that. Definitely should have just painted over it and been done with it. For the next half an hour as I continued to paint, William sat on the couch and watched my every move - any moment I attempted to cover his addition to the painting, he whined and pouted until I stopped. After a while I realized that I could work the face into the tree. This resulted in the painting carrying a more scary vibe than most thing's I'd painted, and I definitely can't say I disliked it.

"I'm finally done!" I spoke up finally, after William and I continued our coexistence for almost another hour.

William shot up from his place on the couch. "Finally!" He groaned.

"You know I didn't force you to come over, right? You coulda left any time."

William shook his head. "I couldn't leave you all on your own! You would've been so bored." I chose not to respond and stepped away from the canvas, gesturing him to look at the finished product.

"Not bad," He nodded, impressed. "Definitely still a moose."

"Oh, right," I sighed, "I forgot to fix a little detail. Maybe that will help."

He looked towards me, confused. Without giving him a chance to speak, I dipped one of my paintbrushes into dark blue paint, and proceeded to do one quick stroke of said paint straight across the boy's nose in a thin, diagonal line. "Now it's perfect!" I grinned.

For a moment, William did nothing more than blink at me. "What the hell?" He finally said after a moment. "You are aware you just started a war, right?"

"I did no such thing. You had that coming."

"And you've got this!" Just as quickly as my original paint stroke, he dipped his fingers into the red paint and spread a few lines across my cheek.

"Oh no, you did not." I grinned. "This isn't over."

This paint war continued for a few minutes until I stopped abruptly at the sound of my phone ringing. I saw on the screen that it was Danny again - but my hands were too covered in paint to answer. Besides, I didn't really want to. Something in me didn't want to explain Danny to William. Or William to Danny.

I am a horrible person.