Bottled Blue

I hoped my dad would say ‘No’ to Jett staying the night at our house. But when my mom asked him, he just said, “Sure, what’s for dinner?” and didn’t seem to care. I really hated that they didn’t care. Sometimes, I wished my parents would be more strict, like normal parents.

I cornered my mom in the kitchen and asked her about it. She said, “Why? You said you don’t like him that way. It shouldn’t be a problem then.” And obviously, I couldn’t say anything to that. I really wasn’t going to bang Jett with my parents in the house. So there was nothing to worry about. Except that I’d have Jett in my house. And it felt wrong.

At dinner, we all sat in the living room eating and watching TV while my parents talked to Jett, and my baby brother shouted at us from the little rolly thing he was eating his slop in. I stayed out of the conversation. I was going to make some tea, take it up to my room, and go to bed early to avoid Jett. Hopefully, he’d leave early in the morning, and I wouldn’t have to see him until we did homework.

When we finished, I helped my mom take the dishes to the kitchen so my dad could get my brother in the bath. Jett followed us into the kitchen.

“I’ll go ahead and get some extra blankets and stuff from the closet,” my mom said, taking the dishes from us to rinse them off in the sink. I got the dishwasher ready.

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me sleep on your couch,” Jett said.

“Oh, nonsense,” she replied. “You couldn’t fit on that old thing.”

“Where else is he going to sleep, Mom?” I asked. I took the first bowl and loaded it into the dishwasher.

“He can sleep in your room. I don’t mind. He’ll be more comfortable up there anyway.”

“It’s cold as balls in my room.”

“Honey, balls aren’t cold.” I sighed.

“It’s cold as snowballs.”

“It’s San Diego. And heat rises. And your dad gets up early. He’ll wake Jett up. And I can’t put him in the baby’s room because we’ll be in and out of there all night. He’s sure as hell not sleeping in my room. And you said you guys are just friends anyway. So there shouldn’t be a problem. Plus, we’re right under you. It’s not like you could get away with anything. Your room is the best option. He can make a bed from all the cushions in your little reading room.” She gave me a serious look.

“Aasha, this is a test, okay? If you pass it, then we know we can trust you. Not that we don’t already trust you, just that we can give you more rope. You can either use it wisely or hang yourself with it. We’re right under your room, so we can hear everything. It’s just one night. And you guys don’t have those kinds of feelings for each other, so what’s the problem?”

“I just—it just—normal people don’t let boys sleep in their daughter’s bedrooms.” She smiled as I faltered.

“It’ll be fine. If you’re really dead set on him not sleeping in your room, have him sleep on the other side. But if it gets cold, he’ll freeze to death, and it’ll be on you.” I just growled in response.

Since dinner was over, I made my chamomile tea anyway and hurried up to my room to turn on my heater blanket and hide from my family. Unfortunately, Jett came up a few minutes after I got my pajamas on. He was wearing sweatpants and had a pile of blankets and pillows from my mom.

“Where do you want me?” he asked. I sighed.

“You can sleep here because the heater won’t reach the other room, and my room is a glorified freezer. But don’t touch me.”

“You got it.” He dumped the blankets on me and went to the other room to steal some of my cushions. I fought through the blankets and sheets and watched him line the pillows into a makeshift bed. Then he laid the blankets out and sat down on the floor.

“So—what do you do? You’re not going to bed this early, are you? It’s only seven-thirty.”

“I was just going to read,” I said, flipping the pages of my book.

“Cool. Do you mind if I talk to you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

He reached for his backpack and pulled out the book he borrowed from me. Then he laid down on the cushions on his stomach and began to read, too. I was leaning against the wall with the book on my knees. I only had one light, and he probably wasn’t getting much of it since the sky was darkening. So I reached for the book light I got for my birthday and tossed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining it.

“Booklight.”

“Thanks.” He attached it to the back cover and turned it on. “Neat.”

“Mm-hmm.”

We went back to reading, but I couldn’t focus because my stomach felt hot, and I thought I might throw up. Not literally. I didn’t actually feel like vomiting. But it felt squishy, and whenever I looked up at the boy in my bedroom, it would roll uncomfortably. I almost decided to go to bed early anyway to avoid dealing with it.

I didn’t. I couldn’t sleep that early if I tried, and it was Friday. Usually, I’d be downstairs watching TV, reading, or on the computer in the alcove off the kitchen. But I didn’t want Jett to follow me. Nothing irritated me more than people standing behind me while I tried to play Roller Coaster Tycoon.

Jett didn’t complain, though. About that anyway. He did complain about the cold a lot. And at one point, I wondered if he was even reading or was just going through the motions to bother me. But whenever I looked up, he was on a different page. And he occasionally chuckled quietly to himself and said things like, “Haha, petunias.”

He eventually changed positions onto his back and held the book over his head. But he changed his mind when he accidentally dropped it on his face, and I spent the next few minutes laughing at him.

When it was finally late enough to sleep, I put my book down and told Jett I was turning off the lamp. He said, “Okay.” So I huddled in my bed under the warmth of the heater blanket. But my eyes wouldn’t stay shut. My stomach felt even queasier than when I was reading. I saw the book light go off a minute later and listened to him shift around on the floor.

“Fuck, it’s cold in here,” he whispered.

“It’s because we’re in the attic.”

“What’s that sound?”

“It’s the pigeons.”

“What pigeons?”

“They nest in the vents.” He was silent for a minute.

“There are pigeons in your walls?”

“Yes, Jett. We tried to get rid of them, but they just kept coming back. So now we’re just kind of used to them. My mom just has someone clean out the vents every year so it doesn’t stink. But I’ve gotten used to them.”

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yep. That’s my life.” He was quiet for another minute until I heard his teeth chatter.

“How can you handle this? I’m right in front of the heater, and I’m freezing.”

“You were fine when you were reading.”

“I think the temperature dropped like ten degrees in the past ten minutes.”

“My mom said there’s a cold front coming in.”

I heard him shift a few times, roll over, mutter a curse, and his teeth chattered some more. I sighed and shut my eyes, but I still couldn’t sleep. Especially with his vocal irritation about how cold my room was.

“How in the hell do you sleep up here?” he finally asked.

“I have a heater blanket.”

“Are you shitting me?” I groaned.

“If I share it with you, will you shut the hell up?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll never stay the night at my house again?”

“Never.”

“And you won’t touch me or make dirty comments or have any kind of contact with me whatsoever?”

“You mean like in general or just in your bed?”

“In my bed.”

“Then I promise.” I scooted closer to the wall.

“Then get in. But I better not feel you.”

He got up and climbed into the bed beside me. I could feel how cold he was without him even touching me. I was almost nose-to-nose with the wall since it was slanted and took up most of my bed anyway. Usually, I shoved stuffed animals into the space. So their little furry bodies tickled my face. Finally, Jett settled in beside me and sighed.

“Oh yeah, this is awesome.”

“Yep.”

“I just want to warn you in advance that I’m a cuddler.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying. If you wake up and I’m cuddling you, it’s not my fault, and I apologize in advance. But you can’t kick me out of your bed now because it’s too cold, and I’ll get hypothermia.”

“Just shut up, Jett.”

“You got it.”

He shifted one more time, but that was it. I relaxed after a while since he was no longer bitching about the cold. The sound of the pigeons and the warmth of the blanket were pulling me to sleep. I could hear Jett’s low and even breathing.

But my heater blanket was on a timer, so after another few minutes, it shut off. I saw the light flick off, and my blanket rapidly began to cool. It would come back on in another half-hour. But without it, I was freezing. And Jett was warm. And apparently, fast asleep. So I could just pretend to be sleeping, too, right? Just sleeping as I rolled over to steal his warmth? He’d never know, right?

It was too tempting. I pulled my legs up to myself to conserve heat, but it didn’t work. Within a few minutes, I was starting to shiver, and the only warmth I felt was radiating from Jett. So I gave in, shut my eyes, and rolled over to pretend to sleep cuddle him. I scooted closer and snuggled up beside him.

“Knew you’d change your mind,” he whispered.

“Shut up. You’re just warm.”

“Mm-hmm.” He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to his chest. I would have shoved him away if he wasn’t so warm that I melted against him. Plus, he smelled really good. It was calming.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, got it?” I said.

“Not a soul,” he promised. And that was the last thing he said to me before I fell asleep.