Crash Into Me | ✓

twenty-nine

I stood over my threadbare blue suitcase, wide open with it's contents strewn across my bed. It was as if it got sick - a food poisoning from being stuffed with too many ugly, colorful dresses and shorts and socks.

I groaned and pulled at my hair, letting chunks of blonde locks fall flat over my face. I gazed past my open door and to my sister's room. The door was shut. I thought about knocking, but I could already see how that conversation would play out.

"You can pick your own outfits" she would snap, or "you're an adult, you don't need my help making decisions."

The day after our argument she acted like nothing had happened, but she carried her short, clipped tone and general avoidance tactics into the following weeks. I should have felt bad for some of the things I said to her, but what she did was worse. Much worse. I might have hurt her with my words, but it felt like she had taken a knife, stabbed me with it, and then continued to twist the handle.

My phone buzzed somewhere underneath a pile of shirts, and I tossed them to the side over my bed until I found it, smiling to myself at Brooklyn on the caller ID. It was a photo I had snuck while we were at the beach. His back was to me, but his head was turned around, smiling that big dorky smile of his with his cheeks tinged pink from the sun and the heat. Water glistened on his hair, and sand dusted his shoulders. I had never been a great photographer, but I'd be lying if I said he didn't make it easy for me.

"I'm outside. Are you almost ready?" His voice came through the phone as soon as I swiped to answer.

I eyed my suitcase. "Define ready."

I heard a groan from the other end of the phone. "Nat, we're only going for a weekend, and it's a two hour drive away."

After a few moments of silence, he sighed. "You were definitely just in bed reading all morning instead of getting ready. Just admit it."

"You know me so well." I couldn't help but chuckle. I held up a lime green tank top, scrunched my nose at it and tossed it to the floor. "I'm just trying to be strategic about the clothes I'm bringing."

Brooklyn groaned into the phone again. "It doesn't matter what you bring. You'll look great anyway. You always look great."

I saw a flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye. "I'll be down in five minutes," I said hurriedly and hung up the phone before he could answer. I turned to see Nikki leaning against the doorframe in an oversized pink hoodie that almost covered her tiny running shorts. She jerked her head in the direction of my suitcase.

"You should bring that navy dress you bought," she said in a dry tone as she chomped on her gum. "It compliments your eyes."

I let out a long exhale, eyeing the dress that was splayed out so neatly over my pile of mess. The little glints of gold in the threading of the dress shone even in the dim lights of my bedroom.

"Thanks," I offered with a faint smile.

"Welcome," Nikki huffed in response, turning on her heel and walking back across the hall to her room.

I took one last look at the dress before grabbing it and stuffing it in my suitcase.