Float

Text copyright © Kaddy Dee™ 2015

The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. This story is published subject to the condition that it shall not be reproduced or retransmitted in whole or in part, in any manner, without the written consent of the copyright holder and any infringement of this is a violation of copyright law. All characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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I didn't mind that he didn't like himself and that he wanted to be somebody else. I didn't mind that he thought he was unworthy of love because, if anything, I wasn't worthy of him. He stood alone but I wanted to stand beside him. If only he'd let me.

                                                        * * *

I drifted from party to party like a firefly in search of his light. The dark cloud that followed him around made me seem brighter, so girls always turned their heads to look at me first, but I was always looking at him. He could usually be found lurking in the kitchen, in hiding, sipping his beer slowly with heavy lidded eyes. The cigarette in his hand was always unlit, an accessory that matched the girl on his arm. He wasn't like the others. He didn't rotate from blonde to brunette to redhead. It was always the same girl, skin dark and cheekbones sharp: April Boateng.

        She always had it in for me. With her sharp gaze and quick mind, it's no surprise that April figured it out faster than he did. Maybe it's because I always held his gaze longer than necessary, or because he lets me stay the night. Or maybe it's because he lets me slip beneath the covers even though she hasn't made it past his front door yet.

        Tonight he spots me first and waves a hand, beckoning me to come over and get a drink. I push myself off the kitchen door frame where I've been idly watching him since I arrived. I take his cup, sipping the watered down beer and cringing.

        "This tastes like water," I complain, handing it back to him.

        He quirks a slight smile. It's all he can manage but I'll take it. "Not all of us want to black out later on. Some of us would rather sleep in our own beds than on a stranger's couch."

        I shrug, watching him take a sip, watching him position his lips where mine had just been. April watches, too. She discreetly tries to pry the cup away from his hands but he keeps his eyes trained on me, unleashing a fiery spell of snakes inside my stomach. I drop my gaze and pretend that it doesn't affect me at all.

                                                        * * *

We're in his bedroom two nights later, sharing a beer can without second guessing. Lying flat on my stomach, I pick at a thread on his bedspread while he packs away his games console and switches off the flat screen TV.

        "Mind if I crash here for the night?" I ask, like I do every night, following him with my eyes as he flops down beside me. Curls spill over his brow and ears, curling at the tips like autumn leaves.

        "Depends," he muses quietly before asking the same question as yesterday and the day before that. The same question he'll ask me tomorrow. "Do you snore a lot?"

        "Nope."

        "Then you can stay."

        I crack a grin. "But I talk in my sleep."