Reverse Sublimation

Chapter Three

That stupid jerk got me sick.

Swimming in the ocean and then walking home in the shivering cold was really, really not a good idea. I spent all of Sunday wrapped in three woolen blankets and every few hours I would take scorching hot showers to make myself feel better. It wasn't exactly my type of fun.

Today was Monday; I stayed home from school. It took me a while to convince my parents that I was indeed sick, and as soon as they actually believed me I got a stern talking to and I learned that apparently "that's what you get for coming home soaking wet after a date." I tried to tell them it wasn't actually a date – I didn't want anyone getting the wrong impression – but I was interrupted by a chorus of sneezes and I was never able to get the truth out.

I had spent all morning watching re-runs of TV shows I didn't even like, scowling bitterly every time I sneezed because it was turning my nose a sore red color. I was unexpectedly interrupted from my wallowing when I felt two unfamiliar hands take off one of my blankets, and I watched in disbelief as he took the liberty of wrapping it around himself. He then plopped down next to me and made himself comfortable by putting his dirty feet on the coffee table in front of us as if it was a footrest.

"Hi," Brody said.

"What. Are. You. Doing here?" I said. I attempted to sound as menacing as possible, but my stuffy nose didn’t really help.

"I came to visit you," he said matter-of-factly. His face fell when he saw the looks I was giving him. He then added, in a more tentative voice: "I brought you a cookie?"

"Brody. You took that out of my fridge," I replied, not amused.

"It's the thought that counts."

"How did you get in here?"

"You're mom let me in."

"Nice try. My mom's at work," I sneered.

"Hm. Okay, you got me. I picked your lock," he confessed in a casual tone.

"You what?" I stared at him, mouth agape.

He just shrugged. "It just so happens it's a skill I've acquired over the years. I decided to put it to good use."

"I – I can't believe you – That's illegal!"

"Shut up and eat your cookie," he said and shoved the thing in my mouth.

"You could have knocked, you know," I said, spitting crumbs in his face.

"That would ruin all my fun," he stated with a pout.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"What are we watching? House?" he asked, oblivious to my previous comment.

"Do you ever act serious?"

"I love House."

"Not even more a minute?"

"That Cameron girl is so hot."

"Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"

"Aren't you?" he shot back, finally paying attention.

"I stayed home sick," I retorted.

"Well," he said and leaned back in his seat, "so did I. We can be sick buddies!"

"Yippee."

I narrowed my eyes at him, eyeing him skeptically, but I noticed that his nose actually did look a bit red. We watched the rest of the episode in silence. He soon lost interest, though, and began to entertain himself by feeding bits of cookie to my cocker spaniel, Bo. It wasn't until I smacked him in the back of the head before he stopped.

"Um, ow?"

"Chocolate is poisonous to dogs, idiot," I said. "And that includes chocolate chip cookies."

"And cats are lactose intolerant, yet everyone gives them milk as a treat," he replied, and threw the last of his cookie into Bo's mouth.

"Hey!"

"Don't worry, only a little won't kill him. He likes it, anyway. It's harmless."

"What do you know?" I muttered darkly, but he pretended not to hear me.

Suddenly I heard the sound of the front door open and close. The jingle of keys and a familiar whistling indicated that my father had just come home.

"D-Dad?" I said, standing up and turning around so I could look at the front entrance. Sure enough, there stood my father; his broad shouldered form blocked the hallway, causing a shadow to be cast across the room. His stern facial features and square jaw gave him the impression of someone not to be messed with, and surely his incredible height only added to this persona. He stared at me with deep chocolate eyes for a moment and then his gaze finally tore away to settle on Brody.

"I...didn't think you were getting home from work so early today," I said, breaking a long unnerving silence.

"Who is this?" he said in his deep voice.

"Er...Dad, this is Patrick Brody. He goes to my school. Mom met him over the weekend..." I was hoping this would help; my mom probably told my dad about him.

However no expression of recognition passed over my father's face. Instead, he continued to stare at the both of us intently.

"Winnie. What have I told you about bringing people over to the house," my dad said in a very low voice, not bothering to make his words sound like a question. I could feel the tingle of panic in my chest; he was about to blow.

"Sorry, Dad," I said hastily, trying to sound earnest. I didn't want him getting mad – things tended to get loud and messy. He was the sort of person that liked yelling a lot in order to get his point across.

"Especially," he continued, the volume of his voice gradually rising, "when mom and I aren't home."

"Sorry!" I said again, and before my dad could really explode, I grabbed Brody's hand and yanked him off the couch. "We're leaving now! It won’t happen again." I continued to mutter sorry's as I darted out the front door, dragging a baffled Brody behind me, all the while trying to avoid the intense glare of my father.

It wasn't until we were safely in the street when I let go of Brody and allowed him to pester me with questions.

"What was that about?" he asked, rubbing his wrist where my grip had been (I had been holding on tighter than I realized).

"Sorry," I apologized yet again. "He's really short tempered and frankly I didn’t feel like getting my ass grounded for the next two weeks. I'm not allowed to have anyone over when both my parents are out, which was why I was freaking out when you first showed up."

"Hmph. That's no fun," he said.

I released an exasperated sigh and began to walk away from him, following the sidewalk down the street. I didn't really know where I was going, I just knew that I wanted to get away from Brody.

"Doll face! Wait!" he called after me, and I heard him run up behind me. I made a face as he came up beside me and draped an arm over my shoulder. "Where you headed?"

"Away from you," I snarled and shrugged off his arm, only to find that he quickly put it back around me.

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Okay," he said, and yet he continued to walk by my side. I huffed in anger but said nothing; I knew there was nothing I could do to get this boy to change his mind. Well, I thought, a revelation overcoming me, if I can't get ride of him, I might as well put him to good use.

"Brody," I said. "I need a drink."

* * *

"When I said a drink, I didn't mean an alcoholic one," I seethed. Brody had brought me to a bar. A bar. At eleven freaking thirty in the morning.

"Come inside!" he beckoned, walking towards the door. I didn't budge from my spot on the sidewalk.

"Please?" he added.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with a cherry on - "

"For the last freaking time, Brody, no!"

He scowled in defeat. "You say freak a lot," he pointed out randomly, completely changing the subject. "Why don't you ever swear?"

"I don't like swearing," I replied coolly. "Nor do I like hearing other people swear."

"Fuck," he said suddenly. He eyed me warily, seeing how I would respond. When I did nothing, he continued: "Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck."

"Will you shut up?"

"Shit!" he said excitedly, trying a new curse word to see if it had a different effect. "Shit. Ass. Fuck."

"I'll slit your throat while you're sleeping."

"Prick. Bastard – hey there, hold your horses. That's a little violent," he said, ceasing his swear-a-thon.

"I try," I replied.

"What can I do to make you not slit my throat?" he asked, feigning an innocent expression. "I'd rather stay alive."

"Take me to Starbucks," I said shortly.

"Starbucks?"

"Starbucks."

"Gross."

"Shut up. That's where I wanted to go when I said I wanted a drink. It’s cold out and I want some hot chocolate. We're going."

"Yes, mom," he said with a smirk.

"Again: shut up."

Surprisingly, he succumbed to my request and we began our walk to Starbucks, which was only a few blocks away. However he completely ignored the command to shut up. He was especially hyperactive today and my patience was paper thin. Within a few minutes we were bickering like a couple of five-year-olds. I couldn't recall what had started the argument, but this is how it ended:

"You're stupid," said Brody.

"You're fat," I replied.

"You're ugly."

"You're gross."

"You're stupid."

"You already said that, idiot," I stated.

"I was emphasizing my point."

And then we arrived. Relieved that the pathetic argument was over, I walked inside. I was immediately embraced by the toasty air and the strong smell of coffee, and I closed my eyes in bliss, but this was cut short as I picked up the scent of something sweet yet stifling – jasmine and cigarettes.

"Please don't stand so close to me," I said, and then I turned to him and pointed to the counter up front. "Hot chocolate. Fetch."

"Yes ma'am," he replied with a weak salute, and headed off to order. Meanwhile, I took a seat in one of the large armchairs over by the window and quickly got comfortable. I could feel my sinuses were stuffier than ever, and I began to drift off into the kind of half-sleepy state that I usually feel when I get sick. My eyes were drooping shut—and then a certain someone walked by the window and I jolted back to attention.

It was Ashton. My Ashton. Well...not my Ashton, not anymore. He was right outside Starbucks, strolling down the sidewalk casually; he hadn't seen me, thank god. My heart fluttered at the sight of him – I hadn't seen him in a month, besides brief glimpses in the hallway – but then my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach as I saw who he was with: Brittany Grant, his new girlfriend. She was a cheerleader and very popular: her bubbly attitude and her slender figure made her the “it” girl of the school. I watched her form behind the window, subconsciously criticizing everything she did. I noted how she flipped her curly strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder every five seconds, how she gave Ashton sickening lovey-dovey looks with her baby blue eyes, and how she couldn't seem to let go of him. She was practically hugging him as they walked, with her arm secured tightly around the middle of his torso. However, that wasn't the worst part. What made my heart plummet even further was the fact that Ashton couldn't let go of her either. I grimaced at the wide smile he had on his face as he joked with her, and how happy the two of them looked as they laughed in unison.

I was about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to I could puke, but then Brody came back with the drinks.

"I decided that you didn't want hot chocolate, so I got you a frappuccino. Enjoy," Brody said, handing me my drink and sitting down in the chair across from me. I glared at the drink in hatred. I wanted a hot drink to make me feel better. A frozen one was a complete waste. I was feeling very irritated, probably more than what was rational, but I think what I just saw out the window had my emotions in a state of havoc.

"Congratulations, Brody," I said in a false cheery tone. "You are successfully making my life miserable. How does that make you feel?"

"A little hungry, actually," he replied. "That's why I bought myself a brownie."

"Did you at least get one for me?"

"Of course not. You're not ruining anyone's life here; you shouldn't be hungry at all. Gotta watch that figure."

"You're so thoughtful."

"I do my best."

"Okay, seriously. You're not doing anything that will prevent me from slitting your throat."

"Can’t you threaten me with at least something a little less serious?" he asked. "You know, non life-threatening? I think I'd feel a little better."

"How about I pee on your toothbrush?" I asked sarcastically.

"On second thought, I prefer to die."

Normally I would grin in satisfaction, but I was feeling too bitter about Ashton and Brittany to even try to smile. To make matters worse, at that precise moment, the couple walked through the doors. They were walking hand-in-hand now, so absorbed in their own conversation they barely even noticed me. I couldn't help but watch as the couple ordered up front (the same exact drinks, I noticed with distaste), and then continued to chat merrily as they waited for their orders to come up.

"Hm, interesting," Brody observed in an indifferent tone of voice. He had followed my gaze to see what I had been staring at (I guess I was being more obvious about it than I thought).

I made a face. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything, Pooh Bear," he replied.

"But I know what you're going to say. So don't."

"So that's him, is it?" he asked, suddenly leaning forward in his chair in interest. "Ashton Stevens. Your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," I corrected sourly.

He just smiled in reply. "So he's the one who's been causing you all this pain and depression for the past four weeks. Interesting..."

"What?" I demanded, annoyed that he was trying to psychoanalyze me. "What's interesting?"

"I want to know how he does it," he replied jokingly with a grin. "I greatly admire anyone who can cause so much misery. Ah, here he comes now," he said, his dark eyes lighting up. "Let's say hi, shall we?"

"Brody, no, plea – "

But before I could stop him, Brody smoothly stuck his foot out into Ashton's path, causing him to almost trip on his face.

"Hey!" Ashton shouted as he barely managed to prevent his drink from spilling. "What the h – Oh." He turned to yell at whoever tripped him, but his gaze fell on me, and his expression changed altogether. "Hi, Winnie…" he said slowly, clearly shocked (and terrified) to see me.

I put on a very large, very fake smile. "Hi, Ash!" I said cheerily. I was attempting to make the encounter less awkward by appearing to be very, very happy with my life – not only would that make it easier for me, but it would get Brody pissed off if things went well. "How are you?" I let me gaze shift to Brittany, who was standing to Ashton's right. Judging by the death glares she was giving me, I was sure she knew who I was.

"Uh, great," he said tentatively, unsure of how to respond. "Er...I'm not sure if you two know each other, but Winnie, this is Brittany...Brittany, Winnie." I shot the cheerleader a bright smile, and was pleased to see that she flashed me a fake one of her own. She knew what game I was playing, and she was just playing along.

"Nice to meet you," she said in an overly sweet voice and then turned to Ashton. "Come on, honey, we should get going. The party's going to start soon, and I want time to do my hair."

"Party?" Brody piped up. Ashton and Brittany looked at him, mildly surprised; they hadn’t noticed him there in the first place. "Tonight?"

"I'm sorry," Ashton said. "Who...are you?"

"I'm Brody. I'm Winnie's bo – "

"Friend," I cut in, kicking Brody's shin from under the table. "We're just friends."

"Right," Brittany said slowly.

"Anyway, you said there was a party tonight?" Brody asked again.

"Yeah," Ashton replied. "Gary Johnson's house. I heard it was supposed to be a big one – "

"But not that big," Brittany cut in rudely. "I talked to Gary today and he said he didn’t want too many people coming. If it gets out of hand, he'll get caught; you know how it is." She smiled at Brody. Her message was clear: she didn't want us to go.

"Oh, that party," Brody said casually, nodding his head. "Yeah, I heard about that party. I'm actually good friends with Gary, so I was, of course, invited." He smiled back at Brittany, and her happy-go-lucky façade faltered.

"Well then," she finally said, recollecting herself. "I guess we'll see you there."

He smirked. "You bet."

At that, the couple left the store. When they were out of sight, I turned my attention to Brody and gave him a very scary death glare.

"Don't think I'm going," I warned.

"Oh Pooh Bear, you're definitely going," he stated. "You'll be the life of the party."

"No. It's a school night!"

"So call in sick tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be puking enough to convince your parents that you're still not feeling well," he replied.

"No way. I've never been to a school party, and I don’t plan on starting."

"What?" Brody asked. "Never been to a party?"

"Do I really look like the partying type?" I sneered.

He just grinned. "Well then, this is going to be one adventure you won't ever forget."

I growled a few swearwords at him, but Brody had that Cheshire cat smile on his face – and that meant I wasn't going to squirm my way out of this one, not this time. But honestly, I wasn't really scared about drinking for the first time or being around a bunch of obnoxious drunk kids that I barely knew. Nor was I afraid to get caught, or what my first hangover was going to feel like. No, I was afraid of seeing Ashton there. When I had seen him today, something in my subconscious just clicked. I realized something that I had been trying to hide for an entire month now, something so dark and painful I had shoved it to the back of my mind in an attempt to forget about it. I didn’t want to think about it, or even admit it to myself for that matter. Today, in that fateful encounter, everything was resurfaced, as if I had dug those emotions up from their grave. And now there was one fact that was perfectly, undeniably clear:

I wasn't over him.