Hearts At Sea

Chapter 6: June 14th, 6:45 am

It's nice to have a friend

("It's Nice to Have a Friend")

- - -

I'm awake, keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the comfort of Carter when I hear the sliding door open. "Found them," my brother whispers loudly into the room.

There's shuffling and then a groan. "Seriously? Two years and then they catch feelings?" It's Beau. That dick. We didn't catch feelings. At least not officially...

"No, no," Sean corrects. "They're just friends. See Carter's arm? That's their best friend thing, remember?"

"How do you know?" Skepticality is evident in Beau's voice.

"Do you think they'd do a friend thing if they were more than friends?"

A pause. "I guess." God, I could kiss Sean right now. Figuratively. I would never actually kiss him because he's my brother and that's disgusting.

One set of footsteps fades as another one gets closer. "Wake up, you two." A hand shakes our shoulders. I groan and stretch, acting as though I just woke up. I could win an award for my performance.

Ever the hard sleeper, Carter doesn't stir. "I've got this," I assure my brother. He shrugs and heads back inside. I stand and face Carter, staring him down. For some reason, he has this sixth sense when I'm watching him. In the deepest of his slumber, he will know I'm looking at him and wake. Sure enough, he begins to stir. "Wake up, C. Or I'll eat your breakfast," I threaten.

His eyes shoot open. "You would never."

"Oh, I would." I twirl on my heel and head inside. I reach for the door handle, but he slaps my hand away and pushes in front of me. "Hey!"

He's halfway across the room now. "I'm trying to save my breakfast," he calls back to me. I roll my eyes, entering the room and shutting the door behind me. Even though I'm acting annoyed, inside, I'm smiling my ass off because this means we're one step closer to the old us.

The five of us take turns getting ready in the bathroom. Of course, the boys voted I would go last since "girls take forever to get ready."

"Emily is a girl too," I pointed out.

"She's eight," was the response. So, naturally, I aimed to prove them wrong. I had tucked myself into a corner and was practicing getting dressed without taking off any of my clothes while waiting for my turn. I had changed my shirt and was trying to figure out how to do my pants when Emily called my name for the bathroom.

"Perfect timing," I smiled as I passed her, pulling off my sweatshirt to reveal my favorite Disney shirt. The boys were shocked. "What? You don't know how to change without taking anything off?" I inquire innocently. Obviously, they didn't. Boys don't need to know how. They walk around shirtless all the time anyway. Why wouldn't they strip when they needed to change?

After I had fully gotten dressed, I was working to put my hair in a French braid, but my hair wasn't cooperating. I grunted and let it fall, staring at myself in the mirror. Red, frustrated cheeks covering my freckles, boring brown hair that could never decide to be curly or straight fell to the middle of my back, a red bikini top poking out of a white crop top with Mickey outlines all over it, my favorite high-waisted jean shorts covering my swimsuit bottoms. It was like half of me decided to be put together and the other half rebelled against me.

I decided to throw in the hat and punish my hair with a messy bun, swiped some waterproof mascara over my lashes, scrubbed my teeth, and called it a day. Who cares if I didn't look my best? Certainly not me.