Right Next Door

Chapter Eight

He should be pissed. Like, way more mad than he seems to be. Maybe I'm just not picking up on signs because, to be perfectly honest, I'm way too busy being distraught. I'm also trying my very best not to cry. I won't let him see me cry. So I'm biting the inside of my cheek (I think I'm drawing blood) and digging my nails into the fleshy part of my thigh.

"It's really okay, Sloan." I inhale sharply through my nose and try to compose myself. If I try to talk, the tears might start falling. And that can't happen. I shouldn't be this upset. It's just tickets.

"No it's not," I finally mutter. I'm staring out the car window. We're parked in an iHop parking lot about 30 minutes away from home and it looks like it's going to rain. "Those were your tickets. You spent money on those."

"They weren't that expensive."

"Liar." He sighs and out of the corner of my eye, I see him push a slender-fingered hand through greasy hair. A trademark movement.

"Okay, they were a bit pricey but it doesn't matter. I only paid for one of them and, if I'm being honest here, I don't even like Blink 182 that much."

"Then why would you buy tickets?" It's quiet for a moment, the silence filled by the sound of cars whooshing by us on the freeway.

"Long story," he answers finally. "I'll tell you about it some other time." I take more deep breaths. I literally just cannot believe I did this.

"This is so unlike me," I start. "I can't believe I let them go."

"I'm the one who opened the window," he interjects.

"But I'm the one who let them fly out. How stupid can a person be? They're little pieces of paper, of course they're going to fly out the window if they're just laying on the dash."

"Can we just say that both of us are to blame and move on with the pity party?" His voice has turned sour. Since the moment we realized the tickets were gone up until this moment he's been nothing but sweet and reassuring. Now he's sounding a little annoyed and, while usually I'd be up for a game, I'm really not right now. So I decide to drop the issue and let the concert continue on without us.

"Okay, so what now?" I ask.  I still feel slightly like an injured fawn. Axel looks around, like there's going to be an answer on one of the road signs, like something's going to just tell him what to do. His eyes land on the iHop that we've been parked in front of for the past twenty minutes.

"Ever have pancakes for dinner?"

We order an obscene amount of overly decadent pancakes and make ourselves a little buffet on the table, both of us picking at whatever we want and not caring about what is technically who's. We just dig in. There's talking and laughing and I'm actually having a good time, though still trying to forget the fact that I could be listening to the musical stylings of a great 2000s band up close and personal if I hadn't been such an idiot.

"So what's with you and that Tony guy?" Axel asks once we've finished stuffing our faces. The question feels like a jab to my chest. Though it's a fair question. He has every right to ask, seeing as he kissed me the night he knew I had a date with the guy. But I still can't make myself give him a straight answer.

"What do you mean?" He gives me a look. A well deserved look.

"Don't even try that bullshit with me."

"Okay. Um, honestly, I don't really know? We liked each other for a long time, I guess you could say. It would be easy for us to be together. My best friend is Grace, his is Ray. It'd be easy."