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vii.champaign problems
The black, starry sky had since been replaced by the soft hue of the morning sun. The dewy air was replaced with humid air and the smell of salt that wafted off the crashing waves surrounding them. Nova sat on her balcony swing, watching as the sun overtook the night sky, and feeling the cool air become blistering.
Nova had been home for less than an hour. She was running on two hours of sleep, a cold shower, and iced coffee. Her entire body ached in sleep deprivation. But as she stood in the kitchen, she swallowed her pills and pushed the thought of her burning muscles to the back of her head.
Nolan met her there. His hair was tangled and loose, bouncing with every giddy step he took. He wore a pair of overly tight black pants and a tropical button-down shirt that he left half unbuttoned to show off the gold dangling around his neck. He grinned, nodding to greet his little sister.
"A rare sight to see," whistled Nolan, eyes wide in fake shock. "Nova Scott, awake before noon."
Rolling her eyes, Nova laughed monotonously, "Oh, how funny you are, big brother!"
"Seriously, you're up early," he noticed.
Nova shrugged, "I haven't really had the chance to sleep yet."
The expression on Nolan's face grew worried. She could tell that he wanted to ask how she was doing. To check up on her. But he refrained, deciding that he trusted Nova, and hoping that if something was wrong with her, she'd go to him about it.
"So..." he sighed, turning away to get a box of Lucky Charms cereal from their cupboard above the toaster, "How's the boyfriend?"
Nova could the heat in her cheeks rising to the surface, "He's fine."
She assumed that John B. was more than fine. He was flying high. He was going to be rich. He'd found the gold. John B. was doing great.
"When do I get to meet him?" Nolan asked, cereal spilling from his overstuffed mouth.
Nova cringed, shaking her head, "Never. That'll never happen."
"We'll have to see about that," her brother sighed, leaning his back against the counter, holding his bowl of cereal in the palm of his hand. "It'll happen. I'm gonna get to talk this John B. Routledge."
