Your Heart in My Hands

I folded my clothes sharply as I inhaled and exhaled the warm vanilla scent of the nearest candle. My hands overlapped then smoothed out each of the simple fabrics one after the other. By now, my phone probably contained ten missed calls, twenty-six unread text messages, and a low battery.

I absolutely refused to let this one incident control me. You've kept it in for this long, I thought. Who could it hurt if you just kept it in for a little while longer? John doesn't know as it is. That last episode might have triggered him to think something, but, other than that, he has no reason to suspect any foul play within my mind.

The revelation in my thoughts played through and through like a never-ending video. It was the exact same dream I had ever since that scene in the park. It was always the same:

John and I were alone. First we were just talking, and before I knew it, we were full on making out on the couch.

Ugh, snap out of it, Deee. Why do you care? This is just John. Your friend.

Once all of my clothes were in my suitcase, my phone began to ring again. I glared at it, waiting for the song to stop. Go figure that my ringtone was one of John's songs.

I'm fallin' in love, But it's fallin' apart. I need to find my way back to the start. When we were in love, Oh, things were better than they are. Let me back into Into your arms, Into your arms.

My ringtone is mocking me. Stop. Just make it shut up already! I get it! I like John! You really do not need to rub it in!

I sneaked a peak at the caller ID.

Kennedy.

I breathed a sigh of relief and answered, "Kennedy?"

"What's up, Deee? How come you haven't been answering any of our calls?"

"Erm... My phone was silent?"

I could hear him chuckle, "You are so lucky that we are talking through the phone. 'Cause if we weren't, I could obviously tell that you were lying."

"Deal with the little white lie, man."

"So, what happened? If you'd been answering your damn phone, you would have known that Pat beat your score on Guitar Hero."

"That's a lie."

"Want to bet on it?"

I hesitated, "Come on, Ken. Pat did not beat me."

"Oh, yes he did."

"Did not!"

"If you think so, why don't you just come over here and see for yourself?"

"Haha. Nice try. John is there."

"Aha! So that is what this is all about!"

"UGH!"

He laughed, "Do you want me to come over? Snacks, movie, and all?"

"Yes, please," I pouted to myself.

"I'm supposing that you don't want me to tell John about this...?"

"No! Don't tell him!"

He snickered, "I won't, I won't! I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"Thanks, Kennedy."

"No problem, Deee."

I sighed as I hung up the phone. I flopped onto the bed and stayed in the same position the entire time. Honestly, I really didn't feel like moving at all.

Ding! Dong!

Ugh... I hate doorbells. I slumped over to the front door. Kennedy smiled to me with a bag of funions and the movie Penelope. He knew me all too well.

He chuckled, "Good enough for you?"

I smiled, then grabbed the bag out of his hands, "Mine!"

He pointed an accusing hand at me, "Not fair! My money, my chips!"

I stuck my tongue out at him, "Oh, well."

He laughed, "Come on, let's pop in the DVD."