Twice in a Lifetime \\ KELLIC

14

I was beginning to learn really fast that Vic's methods of working were a bit all over the place. One day he'd work on the bathroom, the next day he was in the hall, the next he'd be down stairs. He never stuck to just one room until it was finished.

Today we found ourselves outside, painting the wooden boards on the outside of the house. Back when the house was new I was sure it would have been a clear, pure white, but with years of withstanding nature, it had turned a light brown color. We spend most of the day washing and sanding down what we could of the front of the house and now we were painting it white again.

"It's kinda therapeutic and relieving seeing that clean color go on," Vic said.

"Yeah," I said with a slow nod.

I kept my eyes on my paint brush as I carefully went around the edges of the windows. I was almost in a trance, mostly because my mind had been elsewhere lately. I was constantly thinking about Ashton and the remorse I felt for certain things I had done; things I had felt. It was something that was slowly eating me alive.

"Alright, spill it. What's wrong?" he asked.

"What?" I looked over at him. He stopped what he was doing and looked back at me curiously.

"I think I know you well enough to know there's something on your mind. You've been all quiet with me the past few days. Did I do something?" he asked.

"Not everything is about you, despite what you like to think," I said, and it was supposed to be a joke but my tone of voice didn't match.

"Okay, if it's not me then what is it?" he asked.

"Ashton," I replied after a pause, "It's always Ashton.'

"Yeah, I get that, but, I don't know, is it something else?" he asked.

"Why would it be?" I questioned.

"Like I said, I know you. I know when you're thinking too much. You don't have to tell me. I'm just saying that you can if you want," he said.

I frowned at him. I didn't like that he knew me that well. In fact, I wasn't quite sure how he knew me that well. We were practically just acquaintances before everything happened. He was just my fiancé's friend and that was it. I guess we had known each other for four years now. He was bound to pick up on my mannerisms eventually.

"Or don't, whatever," he said with a shrug.

He got back to work and so did I. I couldn't get all of this off my mind though. I felt like I was going crazy and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I just needed some reassurance, or maybe I needed to vent, either way, I told him.

"I'm thinking about that time we kissed," I said.

He went quiet. He stopped painting and I could feel his eyes on me. Unable to make eye contact with him, I kept going around the edges of the window, focusing on that and only that.

"Which time?" he asked.

"First time...or both...I guess," I muttered.

"What about them?" he questioned.

"I feel guilty," I said.

"For what? For being too drunk to know what you were doing and kissing me-"

"You kissed me," I interrupted.

"Fine...for being so drunk you let me kiss you, or for being so emotional that you kissed me?" he asked.

When he put it like that, it sounded so simple. His reasoning was logical. I had two good reasons for excusing what I did, but it wasn't good enough. I betrayed Ashton and sometimes it made me feel so sick to my stomach that I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.