your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

twenty five

The next morning, I wrap my sheets tighter around my slightly cold body. Today I could just chill out since I didn't have any plans with Brad and my dad told me he's going to be at work all day.

I start my morning at half eleven, deciding to finally get something to eat after a few hours of laying in bed and watching shows on Netflix that I'd missed. I've been so caught up with Brad recently that I didn't realise that I hadn't been just chilling out and doing what I usually do; being unproductive.

Once I've eaten my food, I set the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and let out an exhausted sigh. Although yesterday was fun, I was still tired from it all despite the fact that I didn't do much. The whole new atmosphere was just so overwhelming, I'm sort of glad that I didn't end up going today with Brad again.

I end up growing really bored, which is a surprise to me since I never got bored when I was by myself before. I start cleaning around the house even though my dad had already done that beforehand. I clean up my room, I sort through my underwear and socks drawers, I sort my shirts out in size and colour order.

It was only when I stumble across a small box that I had gotten for my birthday from Brad that I stop bustling around the house to busy myself. I open up the box, just like I would with a ring box, and take out the USB stick that Brad had given to me.

I walk to my bed and sit on it before pulling the laptop closer to me, plugging in the USB. Once it had connected and the file popped up on my laptop, I double clicked it and it started loading on my screen.

It started off black for a few seconds and I wonder if it's broken before I see Brad setting down presumably his phone as he starts recording.

He rests it against something on his desk as he sits on his chair in his room. "Happy birthday," he says with a small smile on his face. "I, uh, I made you this since you didn't want me to spend any money on you, so I thought this was the best I could do. Sorry if you hate it."

He reaches over and cuts off the camera and the screen goes black again. My face then pops up and I realise that we're in Den's Diner.

"Are you recording me?" I asked as Brad tries to discreetly film me on his phone. It wasn't a flattering angle at all, even I had to admit and I don't usually care how I look; especially for a school project.

"No," he said with sarcasm dripping in his voice. "I'm reading the newspaper, actually."

I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning my head down to look at the questions in front of me. This was one of the first days that Brad and I got along quite well.

"I've just got a few questions left," I told him, my eyes flickering back up to him and he lifts the phone up so that it's level with my face. He handed it to me with caution and soon it's pointing at him. I was zooming in on his face and he rolled his eyes at me.

"You're gonna break it, Jamie," he said, and I stopped zooming in so that he didn't get annoyed at me. I could see his injuries still on his face.

"Can I ask a few questions now?"

"Go ahead." He smiled softly at me but I don't remember that. I must have been looking down at my sheet or something.

The video cuts at that and it goes black for a few seconds before going to another time we were studying in the library.

"Stop it," I whined at Brad. I remember that he was kicking me under the table to tease me, and clearly it worked. "We need to do the project."

Brad had a grin on his face as he holds the camera that was pointing at me. I didn't notice since I was reading over my question sheet with an arm outstretched on the table. Brad has pointed the camera down at my hand.

"Shall I hold that for you?" He asked and I looked up with a small frown. What does he mean? I remember thinking.

His hand took ahold of mine and I laughed at him, rolling my eyes at the same time. He was being lame.

The video cuts again, and after a few seconds of black screen, I see Brad's face as he tries to juggle the phone with one hand. I remember this perfectly.

My cheeks were burning red, "Are you recording me?"

"Yeah," he replied, the phone facing towards the both of us as he sets it down on the side. "It's for the project."

"We already finished it," I reminded him, shying away from the camera.

"Well, I have another question," he informed me and I rubbed my arm nervously. "But I wanted to know if you would do the absolute honour of being my friend?"

"You want me to be your friend?" I asked, my eyebrows raised. I wasn't expecting that question off of him.

"Yeah," he replied as though it was obvious. "I think you're a great person. I'd love it if you'd be my friend since we both sort of need one."

A smile grew on to my face and I nodded, "of course I'll be your friend, Brad."

He let out a sigh of relief, slowly and cautiously wrapping his arms around me and I did the same, resting my head on his shoulder. The video cuts off.

I was grinning at the video, remembering the many good times I'd had with Brad and most of them hadn't even been caught on record. It was a short yet cute montage of the ones he had found while editing our project.

Aiden would always get me cute but generic presents, like a custom bracelet or a ring, for my birthday. His family had quite a lot of money so it seemed insignificant that he was spending hundreds of pounds on a birthday present even though he knew I hated when he spoilt me. I felt bad for costing him so much.

But the fact Brad has made something so cute and different was what made his present so special compared to any I had before.

I close my laptop, a huge smile on my face and I message Brad, thanking him for the present. He doesn't end up replying and I remind myself that he's probably going to be racing soon.

+

I get a phone call at eight at night and I'm in bed watching Netflix again. I look over and see Brad ringing me, and I quickly pick it up.

"Hey," I hear his voice say through the phone and I pause my show I was watching. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply. "Are you okay? How did the races go?"

"Well, I promised you that I would tell you how it went," he says. It was quiet wherever he was, he must be in his car. "And I ended up winning."

I'm surprised, I shouldn't be, but I'm also incredibly proud. Even though I wasn't there to cheer him on or witness him winning, he won. But that meant—

"Are you okay?" I ask and he doesn't reply. He probably was confused. "You told me that meant you'd get hurt—people fight the winner. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he assures me and I frown, pushing my laptop away and sitting up properly. "I've got a few cuts and bruises, but it's nothing to what the other guys had."

"Are you gonna clean your cuts? You don't want them to get infected."

"You sound like my mother," he chuckles. "I'll be fine, they won't need cleaning up."

"Yes they do!" I exclaim, ripping my bedsheets off of my body. "Did you know I did training with St. John's Ambulance? I know how to clean up injuries—and how to do CPR on someone but that's not the point. I'll come and clean them up for you."

"Don't be silly," he replies and I can imagine him rolling his eyes at me. "I'll be fine, you can stay at home."

"I'm going to order a taxi when I'm dressed," I tell him. "I'll get to your place a bit after you get there, okay?"

He lets out a sigh. "Please don't come out of your way, it's really not a problem." I roll my eyes at him, not replying. "Jamie, I'm serious."

"I'm gonna end the call and order a taxi," I tell him, and I hear him arguing with me through the phone before I end it.

edited.