Cough Syrup

Chapter 5: Alcohol and Other Things

How many times would I have to sit on this couch with Zach before I got comfortable having someone else in the house?

I always got this weird feeling of belonging when he was at my place. A few times I actually thought of just asking him to move in. Besides, it would cut my rent in half anyway.

When Zach came in, he went strait to the bathroom. I took this as my golden opportunity to toss the three bottles of cough syrup onto my bed, and close my laptop. I didn't want him doing that observant shit he always does. When he came back out I was laying across the couch in a lazy manner, my ponytail slipping a little, and long strands of teal spilling from it like a waterfall over the side of the sofa.

"E," he called. Without raising my head I let out a short "Mm" in reply. "Your bathrooms a mess. You used to be such a neat freak. What happened? Lost all hope on having the cleanest apartment known to all of mankind?" He laughed, but my heart jumped inside my chest in response. I formed an "Oh," remembering I had piles of clothes strewn across the bathroom floor where I had stripped and bathed carelessly. "It's just some clothes. Can't I be human?" I tease. He laughs and sits down next to where my head is. Lifting it up, he moves closer and lays my head to rest on his thigh. I can feel the heat coming from his skin through his jeans and I try not to think too hard about it. "Sorry, I know my apartment really kind of is a mess. I've been a little distracted."

"It's ok," he says in a softer tone. "I get it."

We are there for minutes-him sitting, me laying-in silence that is so comfortable I close my eyes and start to daydream a little. As my breaths are about to slow, I feel a hand gently brush my cheek, beckoning my conscious self out of the heavy darkness of sleep. No, of course he wouldn't let me get away with having some peace. Not when he was worried about me.

"Eden, I'm worried." Oh really? I would have never guessed. His jade green eyes stare down and deep into me as I blink mine open. We've been best friends for years, and do things like this all the time, but somehow in the moment everything feels a little too intimate, so I sit up.

"About what?" I ask, my eyes conveying what I hope is innocence.

"You," his gaze finally breaks away from mine, and the marble tones of his irises are no longer visible. "You've seemed off lately and I can't put my finger on what the hell has gotten into you." He smirks half serious, half teasingly. He's staring at the couch like its his lifeline in this awkward conversation.

"I don't feel off," I say sarcastically. It takes all my strength to give my voice a tone of everything-is-a-okay. "Really, I'm completely fine. I think I just need to get out more." Lies. Just spouting lies.

"Are you sure?" His thumbs fumble with each other as he bites his lower lip. It's clear that I just made him more worried.

You are such a liar. How can you do this to him? He's your best friend. You can't just leave him clueless until he finds your body six feet under a tombstone. Say something.

I shudder. Zach notices.

"Tell me," he says softly.

"Zach, don't talk to me like a child. I'm fine." I say rolling my eyes. My words were thick with guilt, and I was choking on them as they came up. I wandered for a second if it was possible to drown in them.

When I looked up he was staring at me again, this time his face swimming with hurt.

"Why can't you tell me?" He pressed. He wasn't trying to be intrusive, but I couldn't help feeling a little protectant of my dirty secret.

"You know what?" I say, my voice louder and clearer this time. "Let's have some drinks."