twisted | ✔️

chapter eleven

       

A loud sound throughout the house shook me free of sleep. My glasses were pinned sideways on my face, the right lens covering the left eye, and I readjusted them on my nose. Drool coated my lips, spilling over onto the sheets, and I wiped my mouth, pushing myself up. I had fallen asleep at the end of my bed, judging from the article pulled up on my laptop about what to expect in your first trimester that was currently still lit up, mocking me. There was a crick in my neck, my cheek was still throbbing from yesterday, and I had a headache, and when I looked outside, the clouds were dark and my window was dotted with beads of rain.

Perfect, I thought.

The sound made its way to my ears again—the doorbell downstairs. I glanced at the clock; it was almost four in the afternoon. I dragged myself out of bed and jogged down the stairs. When I opened the door, Noah was standing there, and an involuntary smile spread across his face.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," was the first thing out of his mouth.

I reached up and touched them self-consciously. "They're for reading," I said, pushing them on top of my head. My hair was falling out of its ponytail, loose strands framing my face and rippling down my neck, and I was wearing only a T-shirt that came down just to the top of my thighs, with no bra on underneath. I knew I looked like a mess with sleepy eyes and blanket indentations crisscrossing my cheek, but it didn't seem to bother him.

I opened the door wider for him, and he stepped inside. One hand was behind his back, holding something, and he skirted around me so that I couldn't see it.

"I thought you died," he said.

"What?" I laughed.

"You didn't answer your phone," he explained. "I wanted to make sure you were still coming over today."

"Yeah," I said, tugging down the sides of my shirt, "I am. I guess I just overslept."

"What happened to your cheek?" he asked. I hadn't looked in a mirror, but from the way it felt, I knew a bruise had started to form.

"I slipped on some water," I lied, "in the bathroom. You know how much of a klutz I am." I hoped he would just drop it, not ask me anything that would have me spilling the actual truth, and luckily, the lie seemed to have sufficed.

"I brought you something," he said, pulling his hand out from behind his body. In his hand was a small red and silver-wrapped box with a white bow on top, taped together unevenly, one corner sticking out, the paper bunched together on one side. "I'm not the greatest wrapper, but I thought it'd be better if I gave you this here instead of while my parents were watching."

"I got something for you, too," I said. He followed me up the stairs into my room, and I tried not to think of the fact that he was behind me and my shirt was probably floating up with every step I took.

"I didn't have time to wrap it," I said, reaching up to the top shelf of my closet where I'd hidden the gift I'd bought for him from that shop in the mall.

He was sitting on the bed when I turned around, and I handed the box over to him. His eyes lit up as he read the inscriptions across the coffee mugs—one read Got Biology? and the other was two strands of DNA, both of them saying, "Stop copying me!" They were incredibly dorky, but that's how he always was, even if he didn't like to admit it.

"Since you're going to be a big-time doctor now," I said, sitting down across from him, chewing on the inside of my lower lip. "I mean, they're not much, but they reminded me of you."

"They're absolutely perfect," he responded. "Thank you. Now, your turn." He set his box down and slid mine across the bed toward me. I picked it up tentatively, and it was heavier than it looked. I pulled at the tape and it popped up, opening one end, and I reached inside. I could feel Noah's eyes on me, eager and expectant.