Friday, June 5th

Friday, June 5th

I had nearly forgotten how much of a nuisance an alarm clock can be for one that despises the break of dawn.  Fortunately for me, I wasn't the one that was going to endure the four hour drive to Savannah. However, I probably shouldn't have slammed my fist down so firmly onto the alarm clock because I believe that I may have broken it. I forced myself to sit up, not wanting to get out of bed. The thought of getting out of this hell hole with my best friend helped tremendously. Rubbing my eyes, I stumbled over to my dresser where I had laid out my clothing the night before.  I quickly slipped into my jeans and AC/DC t-shirt; swiping on some deodorant before tossing it into my bag, then pushed my feet into my red Chuck Taylors, grabbed my bag and walked out, not looking back.

Mom was sitting at the kitchen table as I walked past and spoke as my hand touched the doorknob.  "Why are you up so early this morning?" I rolled my eyes because I should have expected this to happen. 

"I am going to Savannah with Abigail for the weekend, like you said I could, remember?" I turned to look her in the eyes, fearful that she had changed her mind. 

She took a sip of her coffee as she nodded.  "Oh yes, that is right. Well okay darling, do have fun and please be careful.  Make sure to give me a call once you get there so that I know you've made it safely." Phew! I left on that note with a "thank you, I shall" and stepped out of the house to take a seat on the front porch, to await Abigail's arrival.  

This didn’t take long, moments after I stepped outside she pulled up into the driveway, honking the horn and waving like a mad woman. I blushed, my cheeks turning red hot.  I don't handle attention well especially if the attention is brought on by others. It's okay as long as I'm the one putting myself in the middle of the crowd but if I were going to be the center of attention, it will have to be because I put myself there, otherwise I'm bright red, nervous and hiding my face (which leads me to run into poles and such, if I'm not already clumsy enough!) I grabbed my bag and rushed to her Nissan and hopped in, quickly turning to glare at her. 

"My bad, T." Her apology clearly wasn't sincere, as she began to burst out laughing, as she pulled out of the driveway. 

The drive felt shorter but it may have been because Abigail was hauling a*s down the highway. I couldn't be too sure as I wasn't paying too much attention. We didn't do a lot of talking because we both preferred blasting the radio and singing along to it, so we spent the drive singing our favorite 90s songs on Pandora. 

By the time we reached the house I could tell Abigail was ready for a drink because the first thing she said was, "Grab the cork screw and open one of the bottles over there, won't you?” I hadn't even sat my bags down yet. I looked at my watch and realized it was only a little after noon but I opened the bottle anyway. 

"Is there anything that we could eat first?" I wasn't about to start drinking on an empty stomach. I was always told you got drunk faster and apparently drunks were famously known for truth telling. I feared what I may say even though I never kept anything from Abigail, we all had our deep secrets that we kept hidden, didn't we? 

"I can cook us a little brunch, if you'd like but regardless I'm in need of a drink, if you don't mind?" I knew Abigail meant that what she wanted most was to use this vacation as a time to escape her reality. Her parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce and since she was old enough to make her own decisions, they were pressuring her to choose which parent she deemed fit to stick with. Annoyed and drained from all of the arguing, I am sure she was thankful for the gentle sounds of the oceans waves.  I knew that I was prepared to sense the waves rush up onto the shore, splashing up over my feet, sinking in to the downy, wet sand. Even though I knew what she was thinking, I kept my mouth shut and poured us each a glass as she began to fry up some omelets. Omelets happened to be each of our favorite breakfast foods, loaded with an assorted amount of ingredients. I handed over her glass and she thanked me with a smile. 

"I am really glad that you are able to cook, I am awful at it." Abigail laughed when I spoke. 

"You are only a valuable asset when you work hard at something. I have parents that spend more time focused on their careers than their daughter. I know how to cook because I had to teach myself." This is why I loved Abigail; she always knew how to twist words to make anyone feel better about any situation. I just wish I were capable of doing the same thing especially now when she was fighting off all this anguish. 

"Well, if you say so. For me, I'll stick to food that comes in the box, that way the oven does all the work for me." 

Her laugh escaped her lips for a second time, and then she pointed the spatula at me. "But that is precisely why we work so well together, we complete each other. What you can't do, I can. Together we can do anything, be anything."

"So what do you have planned for us to do today?" I asked, taking the tiniest sip of wine. Abigail swallows hers down within seconds, placing her glass on the counter, "Hit me again." She waited until her glass was filled before returning to her cooking. "As for our day, I figure we could go sit out on the beach, enjoy a few glasses of wine and simply enjoy the beauty that surrounds us. I didn't really think you'd be up for anything adventurous." She was right; of course, had she asked me to get on a jet ski I'd have locked myself in the bedroom and had read books all weekend. She was being a generous friend, attempting to make sure that we were both enjoying our weekend together, away from the hassles of our young, teen-angst lives. 

After she finished cooking, we silently ate our meals even though I wanted to ask Abigail to slow down when she filled her fourth glass of wine. I had barely finished my first and she had finished off the first bottle. After eating, I washed up the dishes while Abigail stood staring out the large, elegant French doors that lead out onto the sandy beach. I could tell she was in deep thought because she wasn't saying a word and swaying her wine around in her glass, instead of engulfing it. It didn't take long to clean up the dishes but I didn't want to take her from her thoughts so I stood behind her, waiting for her to make the first move. 

It was probably a few moments of us just standing there before she turned around on her heel and noticed me standing right behind her. "All done?" I nodded and wiped my no longer wet hands on my pants so she thought I had just finished up instead of creepily standing behind her for what seemed longer than it actually was. As much as Abigail does (or doesn't do) for me, I knew that I needed to return the favor this weekend. She needed me and I had to make sure that I could return the ear that she had leant to me for so many years and trust me, I used it often. Angst-teen non sense, of course but she still listened intently with much care. 

Abigail reached over, grabbed another bottle of wine then walked out the French doors, me tailing behind her like a little puppy dog. The sun was shining pretty brightly so Abigail suggested that we just sit on the porch, people watch and enjoy our wine filled glasses.  I obviously accepted, seeing as two was a big enough crowd and I preferred the beach at night once the breeze rolls in and the sun falls away. I took a seat next to Abigail and she filled my second glass, her fifth. 

We sat in silence for a while before Abigail began to make conversation. "Do you believe in an everlasting love?" I knew she was asking because even though my parents were still together, neither of us understood why because they could barely stand to be in the same room together for longer than a minute. She also asked because we both never expected for her parents to be where they are now. She was blown away when she found out that her father was checking on her mother (with the house maid, of all people), and yes we realize that is very cliché. Her parents were high school sweethearts and never once had she ever heard them argue. They still went out on dates and her mother always told her how her father still gave her butterflies like when they first met. It seemed like a fairy tale ending but clearly no matter how perfect something looks, it doesn't mean that it isn't rotting away on the inside. 

I didn't really know how to answer because in my honest opinion, I didn't. I thought love was something that you had to work at. That each partner had to give one hundred percent and use communication, honesty and open-minded thoughts to make something as complicated as everlasting love to be a success. I always thought that it wasn't just about compromise but about being so in love with the other person that you accepted them, completely. Both the good and the bad and forgave them, no matter what and worked through anything, even the most painful of scenarios. No, I didn't have faith in everlasting love. I know not many people put that much effort into themselves, much less into another person. However, this weekend was my opportunity to repay my debt to Abigail as the best friend, so I told her, "I do but I don't think it's easy to accomplish." She seemed okay with that answer because she laughed then finished her fifth glass of wine. Thankfully she placed her glass on the table; I was hoping that meant she was done, at least for a little while anyway. 

"I believe you are right T, I mean who can believe in something so fictional without realizing that in reality it's much more complex than a love at first sight and the world just going right from that moment on." 

I nod, I didn't know if she was done with her winded response or if she needed a breath in between sentences. 

"I just wish more people were open and honest instead of putting on a show for the rest of us to watch." This time I felt the need to cut her off even if she wasn't done talking. 

"Like with my parents?" 

"Exactly! I mean, why would they waste their time faking a happy marriage instead of actually taking the time to make a happy marriage?" If only I had an answer for this, it's a question that I've asked myself too many times. I'm a teenager, I didn't know much about love but I knew that what my parents had wasn't love nor was it healthy. "We know more about love than they do, T." I turned and looked at her, confused. Clearly she hadn't just read my mind because I was thinking just the opposite. I was clueless about love. 

"You and I love each other completely, the good and the bad and we'd do anything to make sure the other was happy." I could see the water in her eyes build up, nearly spilling out onto her cheek. "We think about one another's feelings and how the other will react before we make rash decisions because we don't want to see the other hurt and when one of us is hurting, we stop everything to make sure that we do whatever we can to ease the pain, if unable to erase it." I poured her a sixth glass, after pouring my third and listened intently because she had a point. She took a long swig before continuing, "You and I are completely open with one another and aren't afraid to share any emotion because we know that the other will still be standing there, no matter what happens or what is said even in the heat of moment." 

I laughed, "If there are any, which is extremely rare. There isn't much to argue about when you are so open and honest with one another."

"And accepting. I accept you for who you are and I'm not always going to disagree, it doesn't mean that I need to become upset, hurt or think you love me any less." I nodded, taking another sip, a much longer one this time. I was beginning to feel a slight buzz and this conversation was making a lot of sense. Maybe there is such a thing as everlasting love and that it was capable for two people to share it even if the relationship wasn't romantic. 

"Why is it that we can share this bond but couples around the world struggle to the point of divorce instead of working through the process of pain and mistakes?" Again, if only I had an answer. 

I don't think Abigail cared about an answer anyway because she slipped off her top and shorts, revealing her neon orange bikini that was extraordinarily blinding in the bright sun. She then proceeded to kick off her flip flops and run straight for the water and leaped in like a mad woman. There was no way in hell that I was going to follow her, so I just watched her as she splashed around in the waves like a kid experiencing them for the first time. It is moments like this that I wish I were a more sociable friend so that I could enjoy times like this with her. 

She spent a good while in the water, laughing and playing with others and making friends. I sat on the porch reading yet another teen angst story, peeping over the top every once in a while to watch Abigail interact with others. I was always fascinated with how easily she was able to make friends or to have conversations with strangers. I'd be a stumbling, stuttering fool if someone tried talking to me especially a boy. Not because I find them too attract to think of words, no. I just didn't understand the opposite sex so making conversation with one would be difficult. Like, what do they even talk about? If they all talk like some of the guys I've heard at the school then I'd never be able to have a discussion with any of them because the words I've heard spoken between two guys before were about sports and sex, two topics that I know nothing about. I'm terrible at sports and am clueless about sex. I mean, I obviously get the idea of it but if I were put in the position to perform, I'd fail miserably. F-, for sure. 

Abigail knew a lot more about sex even though she hadn't been sexual with any guys, at least not to the point of having intercourse with one. Anything else she's done, I've asked her to keep the details to herself because it makes me feel sick to my stomach thinking about that type of stuff. I must be the most jacked up teenage female in the entire world but I am who I am. This is probably another reason why I'm boyfriendless, I'd surely be dumped the moment he showed me his pecker and I projectile vomit all over it. Abigail says she knows more from research than experience but I don't even have the desire to read about sexual interactions nor do I desire to seek out porn or to look at random dick pictures on the internet. It's not because I have class, it's just that I don't have any interest, what-so-ever. Just thinking about it, right now is making me slightly nauseous. 

"Why are you making that horrendous face for?" I looked up over my book to see a soaking wet Abigail towering over me. "Is there a spicy scene in your novel?" My face went from disgust to an 'I'll burn a hole in your head for that one' glare.

"You know I don't partake in those books of filth and lies." Abigail laughed and snatched my book and threw it on the table. "It's getting late and people are leaving, let's have more drinks and enjoy ourselves, okay?" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up out of the chair then pulled off my top. Then she slid her hands down my body to reach my shorts, in which I quickly grabbed her hands and removed them from my waist. "It's okay, I can take my shorts off and I promise that I'll come join you on the beach." The touch of her hands on my body had caused a sensation that I had never felt before and I was unsure what it meant. I decided to blame the alcohol and took off my shorts, grabbed our drinks and ran after her. No matter why I felt the way I did, I wasn't about to spend the rest of our evening overthinking something so ridiculous. 

By the time we had gotten to the bottom of the bottle, Abigail was dancing around on the sand and for a drunk; she still had a lot of grace. Had it have been me, I'd have spun around like a virgin ballerina and fell flat on my face for the entire crowd to boo off stage. Abigail though, she has grace and a body that most girls would starve for. She was thick in all the right spots and had these incredible curves. I don't think my body had any idea what a curve was, much less an idea of what fat was (which meant I was both boobless and assless). She waved me over to join her but I shook my head, so she came over to sit next to me, "I'm out of breath." 

"I think you drank too much.", I could smell the sweet taste of blackberry wine on her breath, which made me realize just how close she was sitting next to me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, no I felt comfortable and those sensations flared up again. I tried to keep my eyes on hers but that made things worse, I suddenly wanted to touch her to see what her skin felt like under my hands. 

"T, have you ever kissed a boy before?” she leaned in close enough for our noses to touch.

I could barely breathe or speak; I choked out the single word, "No." Abigail knew that I never had before but I couldn't remind her because her being this close was giving me thoughts that I had never had before and I was uncertain of what why she was so close to me...

"Is that why you've never gone out with a boy, you're afraid of being a bad kisser?" She smiled after saying this, like it was a joke. Clearly I've never gone out with a boy because I had never been asked but I was unable to say anything, it was difficult enough to even think and that's when she leaned in and her lips pressed against mine. My entire body went limp, a tingling sensation filling up every inch of me. I had to close my eyes; the passion was consuming me and spilling out from my pores in the atmosphere. As soon as she let go, I felt breathless and yet I wanted nothing more than for her to do it again. This must be why I see so many couples in the hallways unable to keep their hands off one another. The intimacy I was feeling between Abigail and I was extremely intense and I had the urge to spend the rest of the night with my lips pressed against hers, hands exploring the softness of her body. 

"You aren't so bad, T. I definitely see a guy enjoying a nice kiss between the two of you." She ended her sentence by poking me on the nose with her index finger, whilst giggling and right before falling over and passing out. I pulled her up and carried her, the best I could, to the house and laid her on the couch and spent the next few hours, confused and wishing more than anything that Abigail had never, ever kissed me. I'd have rather spent the rest of my life miserable and alone than to have this confusion flood my mind and body. I was unsure of how I'd spend another two days on the beach with Abigail without confessing the urges that I was feeling in places that I never thought I'd ever have urges...

Reviews

[Midnight_Mystery]

ugh totally cant wait till the next chapter..i want m.o.r.e! awesome story