Chapter 3: Confession

A Chapter by Brooke

Chapter 3: Confession

Either Scott was over-eager to get over to my house or I lost track of time, because before I knew it I saw Scott’s figure emerge from his house and walk towards mine. I rushed down stairs, not even pausing to check my appearance in the hall mirror – it was just Scott. Big mistake. The first thing he did was throw back his head and laugh.

“You…have…something…green…popping…out…of…your…nose,” Scott panted between bursts of laughter.

"What, what do I have in my nose," I asked, frantically running my fingers along my nose to check for the "green thing popping out of my nose". When I pulled my hand away my thumb and index finger were covered in gross wads of snot. "Eww!" I looked on the front table for tissues – nothing. I frantically looked around me, wanting a tissue to just materialize in front of my face; no such luck.

“Here,” he said, holding the much needed tissue out to me.

“Thanks,” I managed to mumble around my tissue, my cheeks burning beat red.

“You look cute embarrassed,” he said softly, which just made me turn an even bright shade of crimson. “See there you go again.” He held my gaze steadily with his almost yellow, green eyes. We must have only stood there for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes, but it felt like ages. He was the one that broke the gaze first, looking above my head toward the stairs.

“Maybe we should go pack now,” he said in a voice that was so soft and vulnerable, that it made blush all over again. Luckily this time he wasn’t looking at me, but pushing past me towards the stairs that lead downstairs.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I muttered, trying to decipher what had just happened.

When Scott got to my room and saw the piles of clothes on my bed, he turned to me and said, “Good job – you’re half way done with unpacking your room!” It was of course doused is sarcasm as was his custom.

“Oh thanks, I worked hours on it,” I retorted with the same amount of irony.

“I can tell,” he said, though unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face, I following. Soon I found the both of us clutching our stomachs.

“Ok, we really need to get to work now,” I wheeze.

“Yeah,” he said, equally as tired. We did actually get to work then, doing what I had done the night before, only for my dresser. Scott, though I had never shown or told where it was, stayed clear of my underwear drawer – which was curious. Another thing that was odd was that he knew exactly what I wanted to bring with me and what I didn’t. I did eventually ask him.

“How do you know which things to pack and which not?”

“I’m only packing what you usually wear.”

“You pay that much attention to what I wear. Your guy, guys don’t usually notice that kind of stuff right?” I must have embarrassed him, because I saw a blush creep up his neck, but not quite reach his face.

That theory was intensified when he asked, “Are you ready to put everything into your suitcase now?”

“Um…yeah,” I reply, a bit flustered from his indiscreet change of subject. We both got to work cramming most of my cloths into the suitcase that I usually thought to be huge, but today it seemed rather tiny. Finally, though, we did cram every last piece of clothing that I wanted to bring with me to my mother’s inside. Both of us, tired from the whole ordeal, plopped down on my bed. We lay parallel to my pillow. I lay one way, Scott the other, so that our legs hung off the edges of the bed, with our heads about the same spot. He turned his head ever so slightly so that he has looking at me, though my face was turned toward the ceiling.

“Well, that was strenuous,” he sighed.

“You’re telling me,” I agreed. The curiosity inside me was slowly building, to the point where I could no longer stand it. “Why won’t you tell me why you notice what I wear?”

Flashes of emotions raced across his face, though I could decipher every signal one. First came worry, then fear, followed by happiness, and finally contraction. Nevertheless, I could not figure out way he was feeling all these different emotions.

“Because, well, it’s because…um…”

“Yes,” I pressed.

“Do you really want to know,” he inquired, his face pleading me not to make him tell me.

“Yes,” I replied simply, trying very hard to keep a wicked smile from spreading across my face like wildfires in August.

“Ok, it’s because, it’s not so much that I pay attention to your clothes or outfits, but that I pay attention to how you look in them – and therefore I know what you wear,” Scott said his face warming towards the end.

“And what have to noticed. How bad I always look,” I asked, flirting, just a little bit.

“Elizabeth Grace Dallas,” he murmured into my ear, before turning my head towards his. “You always look good.” And then, before I could ask what he meant by that his lips touched mine, timidly at first and then, with each second that I didn’t protest, he became more and more bold. Initially I was shocked, almost to the point where I couldn’t react. But then, my eyes went wide open and I pushed Scott away.

“Scott, I don’t think we should be doing this,” I said, even though all I wanted was to continue kissing him for hours on end.

“Why not?”

“Because your sister is my best friend and you know how she would feel if we started anything at all.”

It was painful to watch this revelation dawn on him. It was like watching a little kid on Christmas, who is so sure that he’s going to get the newest Hot Wheels track, but opens the gift to find socks inside. “You’re right. But it’s just that, now I’ve had a taste and I want more.”

“But, we can’t. Your sister would never do something like this to me, so can’t to her.

“It will be our little secret,” he hummed into my ear, with a husky voice I had never heard before.

“No,” I said, forcefully, sitting up; he sat up too.

“Why not,” he inquired, a look of confusion on his face.

“Two reasons,” I said back, softer this time as not to hurt his feelings, “one, because your sister would never, ever do anything like this to me.”

“But—,” he tried to protest, except I cut him off.

“And two, because, I’m horrible at keeping secrets!”

“True,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Now, let’s change the subject.”

“Fine,” he yawned, “jeez, I’m tired from all that packing. Let’s take a nap.”

I woke that afternoon to my phone buzzing in my pocket. It was about one in the afternoon and Scott and I fallen asleep sometime around eleven, I in his arms. I found that I was quite comfortable where I was, and therefore found the buzzing of my phone overly annoying. But at least it was only on vibrate and it didn’t wake Scott. I slowly wiggled out of Scott’s embrace and took my phone out of my pocket; I answered on the phone on the last ring.

“Hello,” I answered groggily.

“Where are you,” the shrill voice on the other side of the line yelped, destroying my eardrum. It took a minute for me to find a name to the voice. But when I did, sweat broke out all over my body.

“Hi, Mandie, sorry. Scott and I fell asleep after we were done packing.”

“Well, get over here! H is biting my head off, because I can’t call Scott, because his phone is sitting on the counter!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll wake him and we’ll be right over.” I hung up before she could say another word.

“Scott,” I said softly, “Scott, it’s time to wake up now.” He woke, all of a sudden, with a start.

“What, what. Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Well, then, I guess, well. Um, yeah.”

“Your sister just called. H wants you back home ASAP.”

“Oh”

“Yeah, so we better go.” I started to get up from the bed, but then Scott pulled me back down onto the bed, playfully. “Hey!”

“What?”

“Let me go,” I screamed, laughing and kicking my legs.

“Fine,” he said, but he didn’t let go; he scooped me up and carried me out of my room and up the stairs.

“You can put me down now,” I said, giving him an “I mean it” look.

“What if I don’t want to,” he countered, matching my look. My phone buzzed again – Mandie.

“We better not keep her waiting any longer,” I said.

We both walked to his house. As we entered the house we were thrown into a frenzy of action. C was running around picking things up; things like frozen peas, a paper towel, and a plastic bag. Somewhere I could hear Paul, Mandie and Scott’s younger brother, wailing. Also H was on the phone with someone, and was looking rather agitated by it.

“What’s going on,” I asked.

C looked up from her whirl to say, “It’s Paul. He’s cracked his head open.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” I heard myself say, before rushing, towards the howling. I searched all over the house, and finally found Mandie crouched over Paul in the master bedroom.

“Shh, there. It’s gonna be OK,” Mandie was saying, trying to subdue the crying.

“How can I help,” I asked, crouching to Mandie’s level.

“Can you just grab another towel from inside the linen drawer? And, you, go get something cold from mom,” addressing Scott last. Scott rushed out of the room and I went straight for the linen drawer. After I gave Mandie the towel, Mandie took the other away, and handed it to me. I thought that the towel had been red, but I noticed as little yellow spot and recognized the towel as the one that Mandie and I used many times to sunbath in her backyard on. That’s when I blacked out.

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