Dear Diary

4. IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES

Sunday, September 1st

G I O V A N N I

My eyes flutter open. It takes a moment adjusting to the sun's morning rays beaming through the window of the living room. I yawn with my head resting in Samara's lap.

Shit, I'm lying in Samara's lap.

I sit up, drowsiness slipping away and being replaced by embarrassment. Samara's head is resting against the back cushion with her lips slightly parted. The imagery earns a half smile from me. I stand to gently readjust her position, lying her on her side.

"Morning, Giovanni."

Her mother's voice startles me and I spin to face her. She's walking into the living room dressed in a tan pantsuit, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. Work late, rise early. That's Gwen.

"H-Hi," I stutter. "Sorry for intruding. It's just that—well, we were . . . I mean—"

"While usually, I'd have my gripes with Samara spending the night with a boy, I actually trust you." She looks at her daughter, smiling sweetly. "You two were cute sleeping there."

My face turns hot. We're best friends, sure, but it's awkward knowing Gwen saw us like that. "I'm sure we were."

"She hasn't been sleeping well."

I glance at Samara. "She looks sound asleep to me."

She steps closer to me. "Because you were with her. The two of you, and all of your friends, need each other more than ever. We don't talk as much as we should, but it helps knowing she's not alone. It's tough not having Ken anymore."

Kendric Daniels—Samara's father. He died of cancer only eight months ago. Samara puts up a good front, but I can tell how much it affects her to this day. Now Sidney's added on top of that.

Life is fucking cruel.

"I'll always have her back," I say to Gwen. "I'm gonna head out, though."

"All right," she says. "But just remember to stick together. Keep being there for your friends, Gio."

I nod and walk into the foyer of the expensive home. Samara's house is real upscale with its porcelain tile flooring, marble countertops, fancy furniture, and chandeliers that line the ceilings of certain rooms. Summers spent in the pool out back are some of the best memories I have. That's how you live when your mother's a state representative. My dad owns a small car shop in town that I occasionally help run, and my mom works at a boutique owned by Sid's mom, thanks to Sid doing my family a solid and putting a good word in. We don't have as much, but we live comfortably.

In times like this that's all you can ask for.

I step into the palm tree lined streets of the Daniels' fancy-ass neighborhood, which compliments their fancy-ass house. The other homes around here, like the Daniels', are built with a contemporary flare. Maybe someday I'll have enough money to afford one of these houses. Enough money to take stress off my parents and pay them back for all they've done for me. Enough money to leave this town.

Gwen's words plague my mind as I walk to my car.

Keep being there for your friends, Gio.

A twinge of guilt resurfaces recalling the days I went ignoring my friends. I shake it off before I make myself feel worse than I already do.

When I get to my car I almost blow my top when I see something resembling a ticket tucked underneath one of the windshield wipers. I yank the piece of paper and realize it's not a ticket pretty quickly, unfolding it to read.