Coming Up For Air | ✓

10 | a faultless summer's day

 "Okay, no. Nope. I am not doing this,"

Faye's familiar laugh rings through the phone Stella has pressed to her ear—the sound melodic, light. Not a guffaw—like Kelly's. Not a sound bringing mirth to the edges of one's eyes—as Andrea's. Yet it's contagious. Clear. Unlike Jake's, that puzzling yet alluring smirk dancing over his lips, having one wondering what's caught his amusement this time. Warm. Much like stepping into a coffee shop on a cold winter's day—soothing, stilling one's heartbeat, easing one's strained lungs.

Stella's hold tightens around her phone as her nose scrunches even higher up, shoulders tense in her attempt to stay as far away as she possibly can from the sight before her. "I'm glad you find my misery entertaining,"

Swallowing back a bite of bile, she quickly tosses the big ball of dark brown hair she just pulled out of the shower-drain into the bathroom trash bin and shudders with a fake-gag. "Disgusting."

"That's what happens when you don't pick your hair off the floor after having showered."

"I've never ever—even once—in my life done that. And I've never had to be sat at the floor pulling that out of the drain back home."

Faye clicks her tongue in faint amusement. Faux-mockery lingers on the tip of her tongue as she speaks, "And why do you think that is? The only reason our bathroom–" She continues, referring to the bathroom the two girls shared growing up. "Didn't completely fall to shambles is because I kept it clean."

"Yeah yeah, gold-star to you," Stella says, lips slipping into a smile despite being surrounded by the nauseating smell that is bathroom trash mixed with detergent. She wipes the back of her hand over her forehead and the small droplets of sweat there. "Though, you seem to forget this past year I've been managing perfectly fine without you there to pick up my messes."

A short beat of silence passes and then Faye sighs, though it sounds more like a chortle. A hint of a laugh slips through her admission. "I may have swung by to wipe it down. A few times."

"I knew someone was moving my stuff around."

"It does make much better sense to sort your nail polishes by color. And—now that you have the entire cabinet to yourself—keeping your skincare and make-up on separate shelves, Stellie-tubbies. You know, in lieu of chaos."

Stella purses her lips in faux-annoyance. "I happen to like my organized chaos."

Faye snorts. "If you say so,"

Stella sinks back against the cold tiled wall with an audible sigh of relief, shooting a glare at the trash bin and the repulsive ball of hair hidden by its steel walls.

"Done already?" Faye asks, the sound of fingers tapping against a keyboard traveling through from the other end of the line.

"I'm taking a teeny, tiny break."

Holding her phone squeezed between her shoulder and ear, Stella taps her green painted nails against her leg. Through the floor she can hear Jake as he makes his way around the open-floor concept below, humming along to some early 2000's pop song as he vacuums, and her smile widens.

This, spending their morning cleaning the entire house, might be a somewhat tedious chore but it doesn't do much to dampen her bright mood. The days are long: usually warm and sunny. The sun's rays comfortable and most often far from sweltering. Perfect for swimming, for going on walks with Fizzy or for being sat on the patio playing games of cards.

For sugar donuts, bowls of sour cream & onion chips and fruits; summer in a bite.

For solving crossword with Jake. Down by the dock our sat in the living room couch at night—the news or some movie playing in the TV in the background—, passing their pen back and forth.