We Are Tidal

Chapter Fifteen - The Morning After

Chapter Fifteen

The Morning After

My mouth feels painfully dry. That is the very first thing I notice when my mind pulls me reluctantly from the sweet gentleness of sleep. It doesn't take long for a thumping inside of my temples begins, causing me to moan moodily.

"Shit," I croak, rolling onto my side as I open my eyes slowly and am met with an assault of sunlight from the drawn back curtains. I groan and roll over in the bed, curling in on myself, enjoying a last moment of peace before the horror seeps in. Jerking upward suddenly, I take in my surroundings. This is most certainly not my bed.

Looking down, I realise something worse. This is most certainly not my shirt. It was a baby blue T-shirt, ribbed with a low collar and from the smell of cologne, it's definitely a guy's.

Panic subsides once I recognise the room. I would know this bedroom in each and every reality of existence. Just like I would know Art, always. It was almost identical to when I had last seen it. Fewer books cluttered the spotted blue shelves by the door and even fewer postcards, mementos, and knickknacks littered his computer desk where previously it had been adorned in Polaroids. Still, it was a little reassuring to see Art's LEGO BB-8 model perched on top of a pile of fading National Geographic magazines that Art collected from local used bookstores.

I draw my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly and take a deep breath. His room still smells like the white sage incense I bought him for his birthday last year, telling me that he still uses it from time to time. The thought brings a reluctant smile to my face. This doesn't last long.

The door opens slowly and Art's mop of dark hair and pale skin appears into the room at me. He looks surprised to see me awake but smiles widely. I can't bring myself to smile back as my insides begin to churn with embarrassment.

"So, I was pretty drunk last night," I begin, unsure of what I'm going to say about a night I don't fully remember.

Art closes the door behind him and sits at the end of the bed. His bed. He keeps a safe distance between us which tells me enough. I can feel my cheeks redden and Art's smile turns rueful.

"It's okay, don't be embarrassed, you were far from the drunkest person in the house. I'm pretty sure Al is still singing Dancing Queen somewhere and Kit threw up in the bath," Art says, laughing lightly at the chaos that always seemed to follow the twins.

Yes, I remember that. I remember the singing, the poker, the dancing. Mainly, I remember the vodka. I rub the sides of my temples in frustration.

"Can you fill me in on how I managed the end up here?" I plead. Today, I have no time for shame. "And in your clothes?"

"Well, actually the shirt is Gabe's. You spilled your drink on your own so he got you one from his dance bag," Art explains and my cheeks positively glow. Christ.

I scan the bedside table and floor for my phone. No doubt, I had a dozen texts from the girls after I went off the radar after therapy yesterday. And maybe an apology was waiting for me from Damien.

"You left it downstairs. I put it on my charger," Art says, guessing what I was after.

I nod and an awkward silence settles between us.

"I'm sorry for taking up your whole bed last night." And I am. Though not as sorry as I am for the growing nausea in my stomach and the ache behind my eyes.

Art's blue eyes grow soft for only a moment, his single dimple showing on the right side of his face.

"You didn't, I slept next to you," His voice is quiet and my insides freeze.

That couldn't have happened. The very ground seems to shift as my heartbeat races.

"We didn't, did we..." I splutter, now keenly aware of my missing clothes. But no, I was still wearing my underwear. That had to be a good sign. Memories flash before my eyes of Damien's hands trying to get below my waistband, mixed with older memories. Memories of hot kisses on campus and sex on the floor of my dorm room that had made Art laugh loud enough to wake my neighbours.

Thankfully, Art shakes his head rather slowly.

"No, we didn't. You passed out downstairs but the boys were getting rowdy with the Xbox so I carried you up here."

It is my turn to nod. I take in his face fully for the first time this morning. He looks a little tired but mostly fresh.

"You don't drink much anymore, do you?" I ask.

Art raises a single eyebrow in her direction.

"And you do, all of a sudden," He counters with his own observation.

Something core within my chest cracks at his words and a chasm seems to open up between us, reminding us of the rift of the past year. We were no longer the simple boy and girl anymore. Like always, the distance between us feels as if it is filled with a fierce cold breeze.

"It's only sudden to those who haven't been around," I meant to snap the words. To hurt him. Instead, they come out as a mere whisper. I sound like a wounded child.

Art shrugs.

"I deserved that," He admits, running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at ends. He takes a deep breath and I hold mine.

"Dylan, I need you to know how sorry I am that I left town. That I left you."

I focus on a spot over his left ear, counting my blinks and timing them to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I did not want to hear this - not when I had spent the night drinking, hadn't taken my medication and was utterly vulnerable to my feelings for Arthur Heaver.

"Once I heard what happened to your parents, I felt terrible. I'm so sorry."

I swallow hard over the lump in my throat.

"And I am so sorry about your mother." I didn't know it was possible for my voice to get any quieter and still be heard.

I should have said this straight away, to Gab too at dance class. My pride held me back and I hoped that Maria Heaver didn't hold it against me from her assured spot in heaven. If there even was a heaven.

Art bits his lip, his eyes cast at the ground. He was waiting for me to say something.

"I'm with Damien now," I say, half wondering if it was true after yesterday.

Art makes absolutely no effort to hide his scowl at the sound of Damien's name.

"I'm different, Art. It hurts too much to be that person, that other version of myself," I admit in a hushed voice.

Art looks at me as if for the first time and nods slowly.

"You've lost weight, dyed your hair, got some piercings," He sighs, "But the bigger differences seem to be on the inside."

Slowly, I get out of bed, conscious of my exposed legs, hidden only by the top of the oversized shirt. I pick up my clothes from the floor and start dressing, supposing that there was no part of me that Art hadn't seen at one point or another anyway.

Art simply stares at me, not concealing his interest. I fold Gab's shirt and rest it on the bed.

Using what little courage I have left, I move to stand in front of Arthur. He looks up at me, smiling sadly.

"Art, I need you to let me be as I am now. I need you to forget who I was before my parents died and before you left."

The words are true, though I've never spoken them aloud before.

Art's frown deeply, his mouth curving into an unhappy line. I step back and move for the door, turning back only once.

"It hurts too much, to be the person I was when I was with you."

A/N

Guys, I am starting to get very excited for the The All The Boys I've Loved Before sequel coming to Netflix next month! Please tell me what you think of the casting? 

Jen xx