Moving On

Fifteen

FIFTEEN
S a n d r a

I take a deep breath before I turn the cold, gold doorknob underneath my sweating palms.

I try to go through in my mind the things I've done since Carly's phone call up until now as quickly as I can, trying so hard to retrace my steps and see if I've done something that gave my agenda away.

And I think I haven't. I've been extra careful. The only person that knows my agreement with Carly is me, her, that stupid babysitter, and Jess. That's it.

Then who's at the door right at this moment? Who rang the doorbell?

It can't be a delivery for something, because, 1.) I didn't order anything, and 2.) It's almost evening and it's not the ideal time for mail and such.

I take a deep breath again. My heart's hammering wildly against my chest and I could feel cold sweat running down my forehead.

This is it.

In one swift movement, I turn the doorknob and swing open the door.

"Hey, what took you-"

I cut him off by punching him in the face before I could even see him. I've had self-defence lessons with Jess when we were in the seventh grade and I know that I can throw a punch as much as I can take one.

"Who the hell are you?" I grab him by the collar with one hand, the other ready to throw another punch if he needs it.

"Ouch," he whimpers. He's covering his face with his hands, but I don't think it's because that he doesn't want me to recognize him. He seems like he knows me and I should know him too. He's covering his face because it hurts, because I made him see stars. I think I want to pat myself in the back.

"Who are you? Answer me!" I repeat.

He finally takes his hands off of his face. His nose is bloody and probably broken, and I don't think I want to pat myself in the back anymore. If you take away the bloody mess in his face, he's actually pretty cute. And he looks kind of familiar... He looks like Justi-oh my god!

"Oh shit!" I frantically say as I help Austin up. "Oh god, I'm so so sorry."

"Damn, girl. Are you sure you're even a girl?" He shakes his head in disappointment. "Well, that hurt like a bitch."

I laugh and he sends me a glare. "Okay, sorry," I say as I try to not laugh anymore. "I knew I could throw a punch but I didn't know it was that painful."

He rolls his eyes at me and holds his nose, which is still bleeding. "Why don't you punch yourself in the face and see for yourself?" He shakes his head again.

I burst out in laughter. "I'm sorry... It's just that... You're so..." I try to say in between laughs.

"What?" He gives me a glare again. "Can I, like, come inside? I'm starting to get dizzy and I've got blood on my shirt!"

"Okay," I chuckle. "Come here." And I help him through the door.

-

"Yeah, just put it right there," I say as I help him position properly the bag of peas I found in the fridge on his nose. "Does it still hurt against the cold?"

"Yeah, but it's bearable," he replies. "Is there a fresh shirt in here? Mine stinks of blood and disappointment," and he glares at me yet again. I sure made him mad.

"Don't be so salty. Geez, I said sorry, didn't I?" I carry the basin with the towel soaked in water and blood to put it away. "I'll make it up to you; don't be so grumpy, okay?" I say as I kiss him on the cheek. "And I'll find a shirt for you upstairs. Stay there."