Strings | s.m (✔️)

Chapter Seven

Hands.

They're very useful, now that I think about it. I mean, you can use them for a lot of things. For one, you can pull the fridge door open, eat your pasta with them, or even grab my arms before I fall to my death.

Yeah, hands were probably my favorite body part.

Before I have time for my life to flash before my eyes, I'm pulled up from my almost death fall, and yanked into the wooden box I spent so many years of my life in. At first I don't speak. In fact, I don't do anything. I simply stare at the drop that could have taken my life away, and then finally, finally after a solid five minutes, answer April's cries for assurance. Assurance that I was safe.

"I'm fine!" I yell to her, still dazed. At that moment I realize that I had been pulled into the treehouse, and turn my head to face the owner of the arms that saved my life.

Shawn. Mendes.

"Trying to kill me so soon, Shawny?" I say, using a name I called him daily in elementary school. Shawn however does not look amused. Instead he has a mixed expression of relief, astonishment, confusion, and something else I can't read.

"Um, hello? Anyone there?" I question, waving my hand to his face. Finally I see him blink, and I let go of a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Before my old best friend can open his mouth though, April screams for me to show my face so I know I'm not dead. I obey, and I see her wipe her eyes.

"You can come down now! I won't make you sleep there, and I still won't give you anymore dares!" I smile at April, then shake my head.

"Nah, a dare is a dare. Goodnight April Baker!"

The worry is removed from her face and she rolls her eyes playfully, giving me a bright smile. "Night Arabella Stone!"

I watch her exit the backyard, and once she's out of sight, I turn my head back to Shawn to see that he's still staring at me. However when we make eye contact, his eyes watch the floor. Typical.

"Okay, so am I going to have to keep talking and talking, or is a syllable going to finally come out of your mouth?" I question him, my lips starting to form a smile.

"You almost died." He whispered, his brown eyes finally making contacting with mine.

Scoffing, I flip my hair. "Yeah, but you caught me. However, you're the reason I fell in the first place, so..." I trail off,

"How do you do that?" I give him a confused look, waiting for him to continue, "How do you joke about almost dying?" I knew he expected me to give something deep and metaphorical, since I wasn't the Ari he knew in elementary school. So I put on a fake smile and whisper eight words to him.

"Because dying doesn't matter if you're already dead."

My words leave him silent, until I clap my hands loudly and speak in my usually joyful voice.

"Alright, so, I was kind of dared to sleep in this treehouse because it was unstable, which is a total lie because only the stairs are screwy, but a dare is a dare! So if you could collect your things and be on your way, that'd be great." I give him an award winning smile, but Shawn shakes his head.

"I was here first."

Rolling my eyes, I reply. "And I'm here now." for extra measure, I pat my pockets and gasp. "Oh! Sorry Shawn, I didn't bring a song for you to steal. That's okay though, I'm sure you'll find plenty more."

"That song was from seventh grade, and you showed it to me. In case you forgot, I played along to it with the guitar." I'll admit that yes, I did forget, but no, that didn't matter. He still took it. But rule number one in the popular guide is to stay fake, so I bat my eyelashes and shrug.