Two Can Keep a Secret

6- Late Night Talking

    I wake up feeling extremely warm. I lift myself onto my elbow to look at the time on my phone. My back sticks to the sheets due to the sweat dripping down my back. I have to give myself a moment to wake up properly. I click my phone, the bright light flashing in my face. I groan and look away to ease the pounding in my head when I look at the phone. Judging by how dark it is, it's probably nighttime.

    Deciding that it doesn't matter what time it is, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed to get up. As soon as I stand up, I immediately want to fall back into bed and never get up. I pushed myself a lot at tryouts. My legs hurt, my feet have fresh blisters on them, and my arms are covered in bruises. The soreness I feel isn't enough to overpower the thirst I feel though so I drag myself out of my room and to the kitchen.

     The kitchen is slightly more illuminated by a nightlight that glows a soft golden yellow. I reach for the glasses in the cabinet above the sink and fill it up with water. The cold water going down my throat feels soothing. I let out a sigh and turn around, leaning against the sink.

    Something catches my eye in the dining room, a little glint. It could be silverware that's was left out but I feel the need to investigate either way. I set my glass down and slowly step forward. Something starts to come into view but I have to squint to make it out. Is that a person? "Hi," a manly voice whispers out. I jump up with a strangled squeal.

    I lunge for literally anything, ending up with a spatula in my hand. "Woah, it's just me. I didn't mean to scare you." The voice calls out. I spin around quickly, extending the spatula. That voice, while it sounds familiar, is neither my brothers or my dads voice.

    Trevor stares at me with wide eyes, hands up as if he's surrendering. My spatula rests right on his chest, which is exposed. I let out a breath of relief and pull the spatula away. "Holy shit Trevor, you can't do that." My fear is replaced with anger as I lightly slap his shoulder with the spatula.

    "Hey!" He whisper yells, grabbing onto his shoulder. My eyes follow the movement of his hand, and then they trail over his collarbone. His small chain rests on the curve of his collarbone and it glints in the glow of the nightlight. The dim lighting makes his skin look impossibly smooth and almost soft. His hair is tousled as if he's been running his hands through it over and over again.

    "How was tryouts?" Trevor asks me, making my eyes snap back up to his eyes. A smile plays at his lips and I wonder if he noticed me checking him out.

    "I don't know, good I guess." I shrug lightly, feeling the aftermath of being startled. The adrenaline wore off, leaving me feeling sore and tired again.

   Trevor's eyes glance at my shoulders and arms. I feel just a little insecure now because i'm wearing a comfy tank top and bunched up pj pants. I didn't bother to take my hair out of the ponytail it was in for tryouts. And Trevor's staring at my arms, it makes me want to cover them up.

    "Who did that?" He asks, impossibly quiet. If it wasn't late at night and the whole house was sleeping, I don't think I would've heard him. He must've seen my confused expression because he lays a gentle finger on my arm. I look down at them to see a long purple bruise going from below my shoulder to just above my elbow. So that's why he was staring at my arms.

    "No one in particular. I got it at tryouts, there was some pretty good defenders there," I explain, looking back up at Trevor. His face melts into a more calm expression, almost as if he was tense before.

   "Oh. I thought someone beat you up or something," He admits, letting out a small laugh under his breath. I instinctively let out a laugh too. Upon hearing my laugh, he looks up from my arm and meets me gaze.