Miles to Go

Chapter 13: Her

Sometime during the week after that, I found out that Seth was actually very environmentally friendly. And sometime soon after that, we started carpooling with Charlotte. And two days after that, Desmond started riding with us as well. Seth and Charlotte in the front, with Desmond and I in the back, unless it was Desmond’s car we were taking.

“Hey, Seth,” Charlotte greeted warmly as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Morning, Rylie,” Desmond said awkwardly, as he did every single morning since we’d started carpooling.

“S’up?”

He looked at me strangely. “Are you sick?”

Seth looked back as Charlotte glanced at me from the rearview mirror, pulling over to the side of the road. We’d only made it to the end of the block.

“You look okay,” Seth said slowly, observing me. “You haven't really gotten sick recently. At least not in the last couple of years.”

“That isn’t true,” I said slowly, trying to remember.

“Yeah, it is. You’ve only ever gotten headaches and stomach aches in the last few years.”

“Huh.”

“That’s so weird,” Charlotte said.

“I guess. Mom’s said she had a fever before, but that’s all.” He looked back at me again. “You're a little pale though. Come here,” Seth instructed, holding out a hand. I moved forward, and he lightly touched my forehead, frowning. “You feel cooler, if anything.”

“Let me,” Desmond murmured, waiting until Seth moved his hand only to replace it with his own. “You are cooler actually. Maybe you should stay home today.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

“Listen to him, Rylie. I’d stay with you, but I have this huge test sixth.”

“Fourth,” Charlotte chimed, sending me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

When the two turned to Desmond, he shrugged. “I don’t have any tests today.”

“Then stay with Rylie!” Charlotte exclaimed as Seth tentatively nodded. “Would you mind?”

“Ah, I guess not…?”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of the car as Desmond did the same.

“It’s only half a block, we’ll just walk,” he informed before closing the door and meeting me on the sidewalk. “Uhm, I can drop you off at home and—”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to hang around. I’m not going home anyway.”

“So where are you going?”

I shrugged. “Not home?”

“But you might get worse. Don’t you think you should just take care of yourself today?”

“I am.”

“By not going home?”

“Exactly.”

He nodded. “Okay, I get it. Uhm, do you—do you want to come over? We have blankets and soup.”

I considered it as we walked past my house to his, not even pausing. “I don’t like either of those. Got any good movies?”

*

I somehow ended up wrapped in blankets and drinking soup while watching some movie or another.

“Did you finish your soup?” Desmond asked, stepping back into the living room.

“Not yet.”

He groaned. “I’ve already heated it up twice.” He picked it up from the table where it sat untouched before glancing at me and putting it back down. He grabbed the edges on the blankets, pulling them up to my shoulders before brushing his fingers against my forehead. “Keep your arms inside. You’re still cool.”

“I’m fine, Desmond.”

He glanced at me, picking up the soup. “I’m sure you are.” And then he went back into the kitchen, which was exactly in the same place as my house, just like the bathroom and, I’m guessing, every other room, to heat up the soup yet again.

When he came back, he lightly patted my legs until I pulled them up to my chest and sat as close as he could, trying to feed me.

“I can feed myself.”

“Well, if you insist on acting like a stubborn child, I can treat you like one. Open up.”

Rolling my eyes and sighing, I opened, making a face as he fed me the chicken noodle soup.

Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be pretty good.

“Not that bad, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Didn’t we already talk about you shitting me?”

I looked up at him through my lashes, and took another sip of the soup.

Forty minutes found us arguing with the movie still going in the background.

“Just drink it, Rylie.”

“No,” I said stubbornly. “I do not drink things that are red.”

“It’s tomato soup.”

“So? It’s disgusting.”

“You said the chicken noodle was disgusting too, but you know you liked that.”

“Even if I did, it’s not the same as red soup.”

“But I don’t have any more chicken noodle.”

“That works out since I don’t need any more soup anyway.”

“Your body is still cold!”

“My body is fine.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re not serious,” I said slowly, disbelievingly.

“I am, actually. I get sick whenever I don’t sleep enough. Maybe that’s the case with you.”

“I’m not sick, though.”

“Right, right. Well, just in case.”

“Desmond, I’m not—”

“Do you have to argue with everything I say?”

“If what you continue to say is this stupid, then yes.”

He glared at me through narrowed eyes. “Fine. I tried.”

“Thanks. Just relax though. I’m not sick. I’m not getting sick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He took a seat by my feet, slouching just slightly.

I rolled onto my side, facing the TV, and curled into a fetal position, giving him some more space as my eyes stayed glued to the people on the screen.

*

I blinked my eyes open, yawning as I stretched. I looked around the unfamiliar surroundings for a moment before remembering the day’s earlier events.

It was a nice place, I suppose. Warm, inviting.

The furniture was elegant, but that wasn’t what drew me in. It was the pictures.

They were everywhere, on nearly every imaginable surface. And, going by how old some of the pictures looked, they couldn’t possibly be Desmond’s immediate family, but they were definitely related. There was just… something so similar in all their faces, something even beyond physical resemblance.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake.”

I sat up, my eyes moving to the stairs where Desmond had stopped. “Yeah. How long…?”

“A couple of hours, give or take. Sleep well?”

I nodded, stifling another yawn.

“You must be hungry,” he muttered, coming the rest of the way down the stairs and stopping in front of me. He touched my forehead, nodding. “You’ve warmed up a little. I’ll get you something you might have a prayer of actually liking.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. I left an extra toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom. Yours is the green one.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I slowly got to my feet, trudging to the bathroom as Desmond headed into the kitchen. I left the door open, standing just outside as I brushed, watching Desmond concentrate on making… whatever it was that he was making.

Ten minutes later, I’d finished and found myself sitting at his dinner table, watching him finish up the macaroni and cheese he was making.

“You don’t mind, do you? I would’ve made something better, but it would’ve taken a lot longer.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He nodded. “Seth called, while you were sleeping. He said he’ll pick you up after practice.”

“Pick me up?” I repeated. “I live next door.”

“I know. He’s going to park the car and then come over here.”

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Why are you like that? It’s nice that he cares about you.”

At a loss for words, I managed to say, “I know.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry; it’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay.”

He glanced at me, pausing as he filled up a bowl. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“So,” he put one bowl in front of me, taking a seat across from me, “just out of curiosity, what do you do on days like this, when you don’t go to school?”

“I don’t know. Nothing really, I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated. “Okay.”

I stabbed a single piece of the macaroni with my fork, lifting it until it was right in front of my eyes. After staring at it for a moment, I ate the piece, chewing slowly.

“Good or bad?” Desmond asked, and I wondered how long he’d been staring at me.

“Good.”

“What kind of food do you usually eat?”

I shrugged. “Everything?” After a slight pause, I added, “Except red soup.”

“It was tomato soup!” he cried with a hint of exasperation. “It’s supposed to be red!”

I laughed quietly as he rubbing his forehead, shaking his head.

“You—” he broke off, looking out the kitchen doorway and past the living room to the front door. A second later, the lock turned. “That’ll be my parents.”

“I’m going to go,” I said before he could ask, ducking out of the sliding glass doors into his backyard. I quickly went over his fence and crossed the space to my house, going over that fence too and, after glancing behind me at Desmond’s house and waving when I saw him standing outside, stepped through the French doors into my living room.

“Nice one, Rylie. His parents came home I’m guessing?” Seth asked from the living room as he snickered, his arm around Charlotte.

“I thought you were going to come get me.”

“I was, but you guys were eating. I saw you through the doors. You have to admit though, this is pretty funny.”

“Sure,” I agreed, rolling my eyes at him. “Whatever you say.”

“It is,” he insisted, “unless you often sneak out of guys’ houses?”

“Shut up, Seth.”

He chuckled, the sound mixing in with Charlotte’s quiet giggling. “I’m only kidding, Rylie. Why don’t you hang out?”

“No, that’s—”

“Seriously,” Charlotte added. “Stay. It’ll be fun.”

I hesitated before finally curling up in one of the recliners. “What’re we watching?”

*

“Hey.”

“Hi.” He silently came and sat beside me, not offering anything.

“You’re late,” I stated, letting the sentence trail off so he might volunteer some information.

“Yeah, I was explaining to my parents why exactly you ran out of the house like your ass was on fire.”

I turned to look at him, raising a questioning eyebrow. “I did not run out of the house like my ass was on fire.”

“Oh?”

“Whatever. What did you tell them?”

“That your brother called.”

“And they believed that?”

He made a slight face. “No. I told them I had no idea.”

“And they believed that?” I repeated.

“Yeah, since it’s true.” He glanced at me. “So… why did you run out of there like that?”

“I didn’t run anywhere. I just figured that, since your parents were home—”

“You had to leave,” he finished. “How many times have you had to run out of a guys’ house because his parents came home? Because if you were a first timer, chances were you’d have frozen.”

“Are you asking or accusing?”

He looked away, frowning. “I don’t know. Asking, I think.”

I looked down, watching his hands play with the sand at his knees. It took me a good five minutes to finally respond. “I’m good in bad situations. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I wondered at my reasoning behind saying that, saying anything at all. It wasn’t like I owed him an explanation or anything. It just wasn’t in my nature.

“All right,” he said, still not looking at me. “That doesn’t actually answer my question, but you’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, so it’s settled.”

And settled it was. Right?
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Hi, everyone! I'm back! Things have been all over the place and I've been acclimating. ANYWAY.

Super conflicted about this chapter. There are things I like about it, and things I don't. I don't know. You should all tell me how you feel about it though, because constructive criticism is a good thing!