Poolside

Part 5 - Sugar

From outside accounts the pool party had been a huge success, the best night for months or maybe even years, and the secondhand stories I heard afterwards really made it seem so. Within the band however, a very different story, the blame for which lay solely at my feet.

I woke up alone the morning after, a silent house with nothing but my pounding head for company, and a text from Jake telling me he needed space. My heart had already been shattered, unknowingly stood on the precipice of the next step I'd been waiting for, and unbeknownst to me I'd ruined it all. The fact that he hadn't come home, didn't feel like he could come home right now, just made that worse.

I was a complete mess. Barely able to function, the guilt and the loneliness was too much and I spent most of my time hiding from the world under the covers, venturing out only sporadically to make my various apologies around most of the group. It would improve my mood somewhat, righting all those wrongs, for a time at least, before realising the person I most wanted to apologise to didn't want to hear it.

That is until his text finally came through three weeks later. Nothing much but it was enough to make me cry.

"I think it's time we talked. Can I come over tomorrow?"

So here we are, my heart once again pounding in my chest as I scurry around trying to tidy the house. The place looks like a showhome and I already know I've gone overboard, scented candles in every room, soft music playing through the speakers and a bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. I mean really, what the fuck? We never lived like this, what am I trying to prove now? That I've been getting on fine, better without him? That couldn't be further from the truth.

But it's all for nothing really, he knows me too well. He knows I hyperfixate when I'm nervous, that I'll have been cleaning top to bottom and making sure everything is perfect so as not to focus on the actual, serious conversations we need to have. It's not until I'm in the shower washing my hair that the world slows down and thoughts of what's to come trickle back into my mind. It's time to put away the defences, the blame pushing and the self-pity. If I want my relationship back I'm going to have to be honest with him and most importantly myself, this feels like it could be my last chance.

Strangely, I don't make the same effort with my own appearance as I had with everything else. I keep my hair tied up out of the way, minimal makeup just to cover my dark circles and make me appear human, simple black jeans and a faded, oversized tshirt that I'm doubting is even clean as I sit ruminating on the couch waiting for him. I'm just fussing, wondering if I should go and change it when the doorbell rings and my body goes numb. 13:58, he's right on time. For some reason I knew he wouldn't be his usual late self today.

I stand at the door for a moment, taking a last deep breath to collect myself. I might've stolen that from the movies but it seems to do the trick and steadies me somewhat. The look through the peephole was unnecessary though, as if it wasn't obvious it would be him. I shake my head at my stupidity as I open the door to Jake standing on our porch.

He looks good, though of course he does, or maybe he doesn't and it's just because I've missed his face. Actually, I suppose he looks a little tired now I take him in, darkish circles around his eyes, and his hair is brushed but only in that rushed, make-do way of his. I normally have to force him to sit down for an extra few minutes, picking the brush back up so I can give it some extra care. And he'd never admit it to anyone, but he loves it when I put a hair mask on him, scratching his scalp and giving those beautiful locks the attention they deserve. He'll sigh and tell me how much he loves it. He did, anyway.

He's dressed in a black button up - I catch that he's fastened an extra button and I wonder whether that was absentminded or intentional, trying to respect the seriousness of the situation perhaps? His black jeans and matching black Chelsea's finish the outfit. We'd often get teased by the others for being the dark side of the group, so much money had been won betting on us turning up somewhere in black that it was now a banned wager. It would make us laugh too, how we'd appear from our respective closets in similar colours or outfits. I love going shopping with him, like having another me to pick out things I'll like, or knowing the perfect accessory I'd want to complete an outfit. I've missed doing that, I could only do it with him.