Miles to Go

“It didn’t hurt that much, really,” Charlotte said, plastering on a painful smile as she jumped around on one foot, her long fingers digging into my arm as she struggled for balance.

“That isn’t what it looks like,” I said, honestly concerned even if I was amused by her tough façade.

Suddenly Rylie stepped into the room, staring at us for a moment before pivoting on her heel and wordlessly leaving.

I looked into Charlotte’s laughing eyes before giving in to the urge myself.

“Did you find that as hysterical as I did?” she asked as she fell into me.

I grabbed her around the waist, steadying her as she rubbed her foot. And suddenly her laughter melted into fake cries.

“Seth,” she whined the way girls tend to do with the –uh at the end of almost every other word, “it hurts!”

“What did you stub your toe on anyway?”

“Your stupid bed!”

I laughed, taking her to my “stupid bed” and dropping her on it beside the clothes she’d left out for me. “Maybe it’s a sign that we should, you know, stay home.”

“Maybe it’s a sign that you should hurry up since your house hates my guts.”

I grinned at her mischievously. “If you insist.”

When I started taking off my shirt, she squealed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at me. “For shame! Have you no decency?”

I finished getting my shirt off, throwing it on the bed before grabbing the clothes she’d picked. “I’m going, I’m going!”

I heard her laugh as I passed Rylie’s open door, glancing inside. She sat at the window, staring outside.

Sighing because I did feel some form of sympathy, I paused for a moment before continuing into the bathroom, knowing there was nothing more I could really do for her. I’d invited her along tonight, but she’d, naturally, declined, claiming she had “stuff” to do.

I was nearly certain that in Rylie talk that meant, “I’d rather be alone.”

Which, I’m not going to lie, I preferred when it came to meeting Charlotte’s friends. It was not something I was looking forward to, especially with how Charlotte spoke of them, the importance she gave them.

Were it any other girl, I probably wouldn’t have cared as much, but it wasn’t. It was her, and for the first time in my life, I needed to be liked.

When I’d changed, I hurried past Rylie’s room into mine, not wanting to feel accountable for something that isn’t even my fault—which made me wonder if it was maybe a little bit my fault.

Shaking my head with hopes of shaking my thoughts off, I hurried into my room, gently taking Charlotte’s wrist and pulling her downstairs towards the door.

“What’s your rush?” she asked, jogging behind me.

“I’m just anxious,” I lied, feeling like I couldn’t stay here any longer with Rylie in the house.

*

The thought ruined the rest of my night. Even as I laughed with Charlotte’s friends over dinner, happy that they liked me, Rylie lingered in the back of my mind. Her sarcastic smile, her unfeeling eyes.

How had she gotten like this? There was a time when she’d been a warm child, or something close enough to—

“Seth, what’s wrong?”

I turned to look at Charlotte, jumping slightly when I saw her right next to me. Keeping the conversation private, I whispered back, “Nothing, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look miserable.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly, smiling and lightly pressing our lips together.

“It’s Rylie, isn’t it?” she asked, taking my hand.

I felt myself deflate a little as my shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but… I am. Look, everything is okay though, don’t—”

“Tell me, Seth.”

Frowning, I glanced around the table, seeing everyone happily continue their conversation. “Since we moved here, which I know wasn’t that long ago, I feel like Rylie’s...” I sighed. “It wasn’t until we moved here that I actually registered everything wrong with her, and…” I shook my head. “And this night is supposed to be about you.”

“I know that,” she said simply, nodding. “But she’s your sister. And, you know what? There’ll be other nights, other dinners. You’re clearly worried and not in the mood. Go to Rylie.”

“No,” I said, maybe a little too loudly. “I’m here, with you.”

“Exactly. Like everyday this last week. Your night still has a chance of salvage. Go.”

I hesitated before leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I owe you. Thank you. Do you have a ride?”

“Yeah. Have fun.”

I sarcastically smiled at her. “Right.”

Sliding out of the booth, I hastily said my goodbyes, kissing Charlotte again, and all but ran out of the restaurant.

“Rylie?”

She looked up from her notebook, brow furrowing when she saw me standing in the doorway, hand drifting by the spot on her door where I’d knocked when calling her name. “Seth. What are you doing home? It’s pretty early… did everything go okay?”

“Yeah, I just felt you could use some company.”

He brow furrowed. “You didn’t have to. You—”

“I know. But since I’m here anyway, would you mind if I stayed?”

She closed the notebook, throwing it behind her as she crossed her lags, making space on the bed.

Smiling, I stepped inside, looking around. “Why don’t you put something in here?”

She watched me take a seat, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Look around,” I said, gesturing across her room which consisted of a bed, a bedside table, a dresser, and a light fixture. Besides the furniture, there was no indication of anyone living there at all. The walls were blank, all surfaces empty. There weren’t even clothes lying around. “There’s nothing in here. Don’t you want to put up some pictures or posters or something? In the house before last you had a whole bunch of posters on the wall, right?” I half smiled. “I remember dad always complaining about them.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“So why don’t you do that? Decorate again?”

“Because it’s pointless. I’ll only have to take everything down again when we move.”

Understanding where she was coming from, I reached out to pat her shoulder, dropping my hand when she flinched away. “We’re not moving again, Rylie.”

“That’s what they said the last time.”

“That’s… true,” I said slowly, nodding. “But I’m pretty sure we’re not—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she interrupted cleanly, looking around. “I don’t really care.”

“Huh. I’d go crazy.”

Her lips just barely twitched. “You’d go crazy? And here I thought you were already there.”

“Hah, hah,” I said sarcastically. “Listen, let’s go downstairs or something. These white walls are practically killing me.”

We ended up on the beach.

“You like it, don’t you? The beach?”

She blankly looked at me. “Try not to ruin it.”

I laughed, digging my hands in my pockets as the waves crashed against the sand. “It’s pretty cold out tonight.”

“I guess. There’s supposed to be a high tide tonight.”

“Is there a storm forecast or something?”

She shrugged. “Like I’d know.”

“Very true,” I said, laughing. I glanced around, my gaze stopping on the the neighboring house. “So… what’s going on with you and Desmond?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Desmond,” I repeated, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing. We’re…” she hesitated before finally choking out the word “friends.”

“That bothers you?”

She shook her head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I didn’t want friends here. And now…” She sighed. “Now everything is just a little more complicated.”

“It may be complicated, but is it really as bad as you think? Or thought? And be honest,” I added, not to be a cliché but because maybe if I asked, she’d oblige.

“In one way, it’s so much worse. And in a different way, it’s not really bad.”

“I… I want to understand what you’re saying. But do I actually understand? Not so much.”

She laughed quietly, so quietly it was almost lost in the sound of the waves. Almost. Instead, the two sounds intertwined, sounding almost ghostly. The sound faded, and she didn't try to clarify.

“How’s Audrey?” I asked, coughing to hide a laugh.

She shot me a look, something close to glare but not really with a hint of sarcasm in the eyes. “Shut up.”

I full out laughed then, unable to help myself. “Come on, Rile. Don’t be mean. She’s not that bad.”

“Let me know if you still stick by that when she starts stalking you.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating. She’s not stalking you.”

“Isn’t she? Somehow she’s always around.”

“Maybe that’s because she goes to our school, too,” I said slowly, my voice shaking thanks to suppressed laughter.

“I’m aware of that, idiot.”

“And yet you think she’s stalking you.”

“She waits outside of my class after third.”

“Maybe she’s just being friendly.”

“That’s one word for it,” she grumbled lowly in her monotone, making her voice go from raspy to just slightly scratchy.

“Rylie,” I scolded even as I laughed again. “You’re horrible.”

“Horrible,” she repeated, “honest. Same thing.”

And, if you want the sad truth, I think her words actually rang of truth.

*

I sleepily opened the door, yawning hugely. When I found Charlotte on the other side, smiling warmly in a blue and white flow-y skirt and a white tank top, her eyes hidden by the rim of her all black top hat, I opened the door all the way and went inside, gesturing for her to follow.

“Do you often go shirtless, or is it only when I’m around?”

“Only for you, babe,” I said, trying to keep from yawning again and failing.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” I stepped in the kitchen, stopping in front of the empty coffee machine. I tried to think of the last time the coffee machine had been empty and drew a blank.

“I can come back later,” she offered, taking the coffee beans from beside the pot.

“No, don’t worry about it. Just don’t expect me to kiss you.”

She laughed, and the sound echoed throughout the seemingly empty house. Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad, so lonely, here. “Go get decent. I’ll make your coffee.”

“Thank you,” I said emphatically, making her smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying into the half bathroom downstairs where we kept our second set of toothbrushes (for some reason, everyone had one toothbrush in every single bathroom of the house,) I swiftly brushed my teeth and washed my face, running my fingers through my hair just before going back into the kitchen.

“Cleaned?”

“Mostly. I have to take a shower.”

She glanced at me, her eyes barely even glimpsing at my face as her gaze immediately dropped. “And still no shirt?”

“I was in a hurry. I can’t function without my coffee,” I said, smirking as she dropped her gaze to my stomach.

“Oh. Uhm, that’s… nice.”

I slowly came to stand beside her, grinning as I took her hands. “Have I mentioned how adorable you are?”

She looked up then, and I was surprised to find her eyes troubled despite the smile on her face. “You can certainly mention it again.”

Ignoring that, I continued staring into her eyes, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She withdrew her hands from mine, turning back to the coffee machine and watched as the liquid finish dripping into the pot. “Why?”

I took her shoulders, spinning her to face me. “The truth, please?”

She sighed, leaning into me. “I really like you. I’ve barely been going out with you, and I’m so in like with you, it’s not even funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s sweet.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and I knew now wasn’t the time for things like that. “No, it’s not sweet, either. It’s scary. Yesterday, after you left, I was okay. But I had to admit that a part of me just wanted more than anything for you to be there, with me.”

“I’m sorry I left—”

“It’s not about that, Seth. I understand that you had to leave. It’s about that fact that I wanted you so badly to be there. I’m not like that, ever. I’ve never been, and I never planned to be. I’m not supposed to be so into you.”

Struggling for words, I settled on, “Well… I personally don’t mind, especially since I’m so into you, too.”

She looked up at me, brow furrowed. “Don’t make me like you any more than I do.”

“I’ll try my best,” I said as seriously as I could, which wasn’t very serious since I was laughing as I said. And then, cupping her face, I stepped closer to her and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss I’d given her the first time, that day on the beach. When, not knowing how to get my words through to her, I’d grabbed her and kissed her, letting that do my talking for me. It wasn’t passionate, not really. Just raw emotion.

And when she reached up, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing herself against me, I knew she felt it, too.

“Really, guys? In the kitchen?” Rylie’s voice came. And, while part of me was certainly grateful, it wasn’t surprised.

Charlotte and I pulled away, looking at Rylie as we both tried to subtly catch our breath. My hands slid down Charlotte’s face, her neck, past her racing pulse, and stopped on her shoulders.

“Shut up, Rylie,” I said softly, not taking my eyes off Charlotte. “That was still PG-13.”

I heard her scoff, saw her shake her head from the corner of my eye.

When Charlotte’s eyes finally met mine a moment later, I saw the fear she was trying to explain to me shining brightly in her eyes and finally understood.