Storm In Me

003

At 5 AM I sneak back into my room, Drew helping me in.

"Your parents have plans tonight? The car isn't back," he points to the front of the house and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"I'm sure it's...fine..." I glance at my bed. The covers aren't thrown back like they are in the movies when the parents catch their kids, and the door is shut as I had left it.

"Give me a call if your parents don't come back soon. It's dangerous sleeping alone in the city," he watches me, his arms resting on my window sill.

"Hey," I lean on my side of the window frame and place my face inches from his, smiling, "I'm going to be okay. You just worry about getting yourself home."

He hums gently, his eyes closing as he eliminates the space between our lips, then pulling back quickly before the others see. Or at least before it becomes too much. "Thank you for the night."

"Thank you for the ride," he chuckles, turning back to his truck. "Wait."

He freezes, turning back to me. "Yeah?"

"Tell Bridge..." I don't know what I want to tell her. I want her to know she's one of my best friends. But 'I love you' doesn't mean the same it would for me. "...she's a whore."

He laughs, turning to the truck, "Kaya says she loves you!"

"What?" Andrew's head pops up and I roll my eyes.

"Just get out," I push his shoulder and he chuckles, trotting to the truck and hopping in.

~

The house is empty. The boys aren't home nor is Juanita. I make myself a quesadilla, my stomach yelling at me for something to eat.

I'm too awake to sleep. I grab the remote and turn on the TV quietly, trying not to disturb the neighbors.

The news, some over-dramatized show, and a bunch of adult movies are all that is on. I settle for the news, figuring it can be kept PG enough. 

A bang at the door causes me to jump, and I rush to the door to peek through the peephole.

"Kayaaaaaaaaa," Juanita holds the boys on her hips and rests the entirety of her weight against the door.

"Hey!" I open the door and catch her as she collapses onto me. "Juanita?"

"Shhhhhhh..h..." her voice is a whisper and she wheezes quietly, "the boys are sleeeping."

"Well..." I pick each of them up and they giggle at me, "...they may have been, once. Go to your room, okay?" They immediately bolt for their room, likely exhausted from the day's events.

I help Juanita up and half-help, half-carry her to the couch. "You want to go to your room?"

"Nooo," she giggles. "I like couch."

I turn down the volume on the news but leave it on so I can use the light to see her. She's drunk. Beyond drunk, I'd say wasted at this point. "What happened?"

She grabs a piece of my quesadilla and I smile, simply happy she's okay. "The lady that takes care of the boys? The cute one?"

"Cute as in...paint stains on her jeans all the time or the hippie that sings to rabbits?" 

"Paint stains."

"Yeah, I know her. She watched the boys today?"

"Mmhmm." Her smile is sweet when she's drunk. Not thin or harsh or scary. Just sweet. "Well, when I went to grab the boys, she invited me out to dinner. And I figured, why not? You need some space sometimes and the boys haven't been out to a nice dinner in a while, so I went."