The past is always there - The summer I turned pretty(Unfinished)

Shopping spree

I wake up pretty late the next morning.
Or I mean, later than usual I guess.
It's 11:39 am.
I usually wake up around 10, 10:30 at the latest.
Just a habit I got growing up, I guess.
I would wake up at 10 every weekend — 7 on weekdays — and wait for Ash to wake up.
Most of the time, I wouldn't even wait for his alarm to go off. I would just sit at the floor by his bed, poking his arm until he woke up.
Which he always did.
With a huge smile on his face.
I miss that.

Jeremiah and Steven's at work and Belly texted me an hour ago that she went to hang out with Gigi and Nicole.
I go out of my room, heading towards the stairs.
I pause when I get to his door.
I look at it, thinking about what I should do.
I decide to knock.

"Come in," I hear from the inside.
I go in and close the door behind me.
Conrad's sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall.
"Hi," I say, quietly, as I walk over to him.
"Hey," he says back.
"Sit down."
He points at the end of the bed.
I sit down.

"So... how are you?"
He's got a black eye and a small cut on his bottom lip.
He has a small cotton ball in his nose, too.
It doesn't look good.

"I'm as good as I can be," he says, laughing a little.
I smile.
I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a pill, then hand it to him.
"Advil," I say, seeing the wondering expression on his face.
"For the hangover-headache."
He smiles and takes it from me.
"Thanks," he says, swallowing it with the water on his nightstand.
I look around.
Observing his room.
He has lots of sailing stuff on top of his drawer. Trophies, pictures, medals.

"Do you like sailing?"
I realize how stupid the question is, after asking it.
Of course he likes sailing. Why would he have so many trophies and medals if he didn't.
He looks over at the drawer.
"Yeah, love it. Always have. One summer, I went sailing almost every day."
He smiles, like he's thinking back at those times. I smile too.

Conrad turns back to me. "Erm... Jeremiah... told me what happened last night... when we came back from the beach..."

I look at my hands in my lap. Just to not look at him
"Yeah, what about it?" I ask, hoping he'll just not talk more about it. He hesitates.
"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"No." I answer a little too quick. It's quiet for a second.
"I've had them since I was 12. It's fine. I can handle it."
I finally look at him, who is looking at me with worried eyes.

"I've had anxiety for a few years, since the first time Mom got cancer. But I had my first panic attack last year. It is usually something that triggers them."

I don't say anything.
What can I say?
"Yeah, you getting drunk and fighting triggered me."?!

He's waiting for me to answer.
"Do you know what triggered it?" He asks.
I nod. "Yeah... I do."
I say it so quietly.
WHY do I say it so quietly?

"If you want to talk, I'm here," he says. "We all are." I smile. I like that he cares. That he takes care of me. Like... a brother.

***

"What about this one?" I ask Belly, showing her a tight, lavender dress with tiny white flowers on it. "WAY too short!" She says, laughing a little. "Well, you can show some skin, you know. You don't have to dress like a grandma either," I say, which makes her burst in laughter.
I laugh too.