Summer's Light

Summer's Light (7)

“Don’t touch anything,” I snarled, opening my front door with a splintering bang. Fuck around, right? No one gave a damn. No one was home. I threw my shit down on the plush leather chair in the corner, before scurrying to the kitchen.

            Alex followed closely behind, admiring the murals on the walls. He put a delicate finger on one of a guitar – his first guitar in fact. I had painted it after he left me. I wanted to never forget. “Did you paint this?”

            “What the hell did I just say?” I snapped, pulling a smoke from the very empty pack of Marbs. Better call mom and tell her she’s out of cigarettes, eh?

            He crinkled his cute little nose… Hold up. What the fuck did I just say? “Could you not smoke in here?”

            “It’s my place. Don’t like it? There’s the door.” I lit up the last cigarette (my lucky) and inhaled the poison. Then it dawned on me. “What the – Hey! Get your shoes off! It’s like religion.”

            He jumped at the sound of urgency in my voice, “Sorry.” He then walked back in the direction of the living room, shoes and all.

            Fuck me, dude. Why today of all days? Why when life’s just going swell, he’s got to royally screw me over? And who says words like swell anymore? Oh golly, I had to stop hanging around my mom’s boyfriend.

            I eyed my outfit once over, not really caring. Ugh, there was little fuzz balls on my pants. With a quick flick of my bic, I took care of those real fast. I knew I didn’t look too bad in my cute little outfit, hair straightened with my favorite black beanie, stripped gray shirt and black skinnies, but still, I couldn’t help feeling a little self conscious.

            I mean, like it or not, he was famous. Even though he didn’t deserve to be.

            I don’t know why I was suddenly feeling star struck. I wasn’t a fan girl, freaking because “Alex freaking Gaskarth is in my house!” or anything. I was just suddenly… aware of his fame status.

            That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t try to make his life a living hell, though.

            The TV flickered on in the living room, blaring MTV. I heard his name a couple times, and a deep relaxed sigh omit from the chill couch. Isn’t someone cocky? I shuffled in, just kind of hanging around in the doorway. Why? Fuck knows.

            He eyed me, socked feet all up on the coffee table. “What are you doing?”

            I stuttered, ready to come back with a sarcastic remark, but got choked up. All I could manage was a stupid, “Duh…”

            He quizzically raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

            “Do you, uh, want anything to drink while I’m up?” What the actual heck did I just say? I’ve lost my bananas.

            “Um… sure?”

            “Good.” I had to fix this, and quick. Sliding down into the big bean bag chair, conveniently placed in front of the TV, I thought of a remark. “I’ll have an iced tea while you’re at it. And get those damn feet off my coffee table, before I club you.”

            He muttered something like “fuck my life,” before getting up and going to the kitchen. Now, I was just teasing him while asking him for iced tea – I knew we didn’t have any made – but to my surprise, he came back in with two glasses, full to the brim.