"Nicole?"
My eyes open to Wilbur standing above me, his face red. "What?"
"I threw up."
I can't help but let out a small laugh, reminded by when I was little and would do the same to my dad in the middle of the night. "Don't make me clean that shit up."
"No, no, it's all in your toilet." He says. "I just need some medicine."
"Okay," I stand with a sigh and look at my alarm clock, reading 4:36. We quietly walk to my kitchen and I stare at the counter. "I don't know any medicine that helps you post vomit." I grab a banana and hand it to him to peel as I pour him a glass of water. "This should help settle your stomach, at least. Do you still feel nauseous?"
He shakes his head, shutting his eyes as he takes a bite of the banana. "Thank you, Nicole. Sorry I woke you."
"It's okay. Has the hangover hit you yet?"
Wilbur shakes his head again. "Not yet. I don't think it'll be too bad, though."
"Yeah, we'll see." I give him a small smile. "Just drink all your water and you should be good." I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "I guess I'll catch up on my show until school starts since I can't fall back asleep."
He now wears a frown. "Shit, I didn't even think about that." Suddenly, his eyes light up.
"What?" I mutter, knowing that look all too well.
"Let's go to the beach and watch the sunrise."
"The beach is a half hour away. We have school in, like, seven hours. You should get some sleep."
"God, you sound like my mum," Wilbur whines, hanging his head back. "Come on, I feel fine. Seven hours is plenty of time to just watch the sun! And I can sleep later."
I stare at him, never able to say 'no'. "Fine. I hate you,"
"Aw, you love me." Wilbur takes another bite of his banana.
"Yeah, yeah," I say, walking back to my room. If only he knew.
Even though it's August, it'll be a bit chilly on the beach at four in the morning. I change into a hoodie and sweatpants before brushing out my hair and slipping into sandals. I grab Wilbur's hoodie that he left in my room a few weeks ago and hand it to him as I'm back in the kitchen. I fill up two water bottles for each of us, grab a few snacks and my car keys. I silently lock the front door behind us before we climb into my car.
Wilbur grabs a blanket from the pile I keep in my backseat and drapes it over himself as I start the drive. He takes my phone and plays a playlist I created awhile back that has a good mix of both of our favorite songs. He sings along, somehow full of energy this early, while I'm silent and barely able to pay attention to the road.
"Where's your stash?" Wilbur asks, peeking under his seat.
"It's in the glove compartment." I tell him, watching as he immediately opens it up and grabs my makeup bag full of pre rolled joints and a lighter. "Don't smoke. You don't need it after drinking so much."
"It's for you, when we get to the beach. You're funny when you're high."
"What, I'm not funny now?"
"No," He chuckles, staring out his window. "I've just been stressing you out. You deserve it."
"I have to drive home. Unless you feel fine."
"I'm in the stage between being drunk and feeling like absolute shit." Wilbur tells me. "So, yes, I can drive you home."
I let out a deep breath as I pull into a parking spot, debating if I should get high so early or not. I show up high to school all the time, so that's not my concern. And Wilbur is fine to drive. Plus, I need to de-stress from having to constantly deal with Sabrina. "Wrap it in your blanket in case anyone is out here."
"This beach is always deserted."
"I'm not taking any chances."
We get out of my car and walk on the bridge over the dune then onto the beach. Like Wilbur said, it's empty. He sets down our blanket and we sit in the dark, listening to the waves. Once I'm sure we're safe, I take my bag and light a joint, washed over with relief as I take my first hit.
As I smoke lying down and Wilbur watches the water, I stare at him. I find myself admiring his features every single time I'm near him; it's impossible not to. The hair I'll never get to touch, the lips I'll never get to kiss, the eyes that will never light up when they see me. I would do anything for him. I think he would do the same, but only because we're best friends.
There's been moments, though, where I thought something could be possible. In eighth grade, everyone was getting their first kisses. We were upset about it, so we agreed to be each other's first, even though we said it meant nothing. Still, I had a huge crush on him, so the awkward, split second kiss meant the world to me.
Then, in freshman year, we were drunk off our asses in Rachel's basement. She was asleep on the floor while Wilbur and I were sitting next to each other on the couch. We just sat in silence for awhile before he started leaning forward, obviously planning on kissing me. Stupidly, I got scared and pulled back, saying I had to go home.
I always wonder what would be different if I had let him kiss me. Would we have brushed it off as a drunk act the next day? Would he have admitted that he liked me, and we'd still be together today?
No, no. I have to remind myself that he doesn't want me. I have to keep myself level and not get excited over the thought of him. My endless thoughts of him.
Rachel is begging to let her set me up with someone. I'm not interested, solely because I can't love someone more than Wilbur. Maybe one day, but not now. None of the guys in our town compare to him, and I'm sure none of the guys in the entire world compare to him.
And the shittiest girl in the world gets to have him.
As the sky is slowly brightening up, I sit up and lean against Wilbur. He stays silent as we watch the sky, knowing I'm exhausted and not in the mood to talk a lot.
"So pretty," I whisper as the colors brush over the water.
"Yeah," He whispers back. "But you know who's even prettier?"
My breath suddenly catches, hoping and praying that he'll say me. Of course, though, he doesn't.
"Sabrina."
I don't respond, knowing I might say something rude if I speak. Instead, I pretend for just a moment that he said me. I pretend that he says me, then he dumps Sabrina's ass, we start dating, and happily spend the rest of our lives together.
Oh, such wishful thinking.
