Obsessed(20)

And now he was in my bedroom. It wasn’t like he’d never stepped foot in here or anything, but at seventeen, I enjoyed my privacy. And a girl needed her privacy, right? This room was my angst-cave where I pitied myself often for wanting what I couldn’t have, especially around my period.

“What’s going on?” I asked him quietly.

He moved past the bed and stopped at the window, peering out through the blinds. “It’s hot out, El. Aren’t you dying from the heat?”

I was. The middle of June was unbearably hot, unlike previous summers.

“That’s why we went to the movies,” I grumbled. “We watched two shocking hours of B grade garbage with the only redeeming quality being that guy’s body. Did you see those abs?”

“I see them every day in the mirror.”

I ignored his arrogant remark. “I can’t believe they killed her off, by the way. What’s wrong with happy endings?”

“They don’t always exist.”

“Pessimist.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Why are you here then, Debbie Downer? To talk about the movie that is seriously killing my heart right now?”

“I want to cool off from the heat.”

“What do you mean?”

I waited for him to answer, but as he turned with that mischievous look in his eye, it was slowly dawning on me what he was getting at.

“You want to swim?” I then asked him, my heart racing at the thought.

“Do you?”

“I’m down.”

“Grab a bottle of water. We’ll run it.”

“Just take the car.” Aston owned a vehicle (if you want to call it that, though I preferred the word vehi-kill). He had saved for a year straight working at the local paintball field for one of Daddy’s friends. He bought the shittiest, loudest death trap of a car two months ago, and we absolutely loved it. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t. Especially in the mornings when it sounded like it was blowing up the whole neighbourhood. Our neighbour Becky could often be heard screaming sermons about the end of the world when she heard it.

“It’ll wake Dad,” he explained. “And he’ll be pissed we’re sneaking out this late.”

I rolled my eyes. “He shouldn’t be.”

“He says there’s more crime lately.”

“He’s a cop. There’s always crime and it’s always dangerous.”

His lip quirked up, and I nearly swooned at the sight. “Still can’t. Just grab a bottle and let’s go.”

I slipped out of bed and followed after him. He weighed more than me (by double at least), stressed the floorboards beneath us, yet he still managed to be quieter. He made dramatic faces every time I made a sound, and I stifled my laughter at the overly done way his nose flared and his eyes bulged. I wanted to smack him, but that would definitely wake the parents up, and they were feet away from us as we approached the stairwell.

The house was very modest. It had four bedrooms, and one sat between my room and theirs. It was Mum’s little sewing office, and I was thankful for it, otherwise they’d have heard our wall conversations in the middle of the night, and our attempt at sneaking out would have been foiled right from the get-go.

It wasn’t the first time we’d snuck out. I wasn’t nervous or afraid of getting caught. We’d done this so often last summer; we didn’t even try being quiet. But a year had passed since then, and it was our first time sneaking out of the house since, so we were back to being overly cautious. Because when you had a dad that was a police officer in a town filled with strife and crime, there was no breezing in and out of the door in the middle of the night.

We creaked down the staircase and then stopped at the kitchen. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge while Aston stood by the threshold, keeping a lookout. I felt like we were breaking out of a prison by the time I reached him and handed him his bottle. We then moved swiftly down the hallway, picking up pace through our impatience. He unlocked the door, wincing at the loud click, and then opened it. It was smooth sailing after that. He swung open the screen door and we slipped into our flip-flops sitting out front. Then we ran down the steps and hit the sidewalk.

I always felt a bolt of adrenaline doing this. It was such a rush being naughty.

“Race you,” he said, picking up speed.

I giggled and raced after him. It made me so happy to see bursts of fun Aston, even if it didn’t always come with a smile.

The lake was seven blocks from the house, and it was all downhill. Coming back was usually the biggest hurdle because we’d be drained from swimming, and going uphill was such a drag. But tonight was different. Tonight I felt rejuvenated. I needed my dose of Aston. He was too busy lately working, hitting the books hard, and getting prepared for that next giant step after high school. Summertime was our time, and I didn’t want that to change. I liked routine. I liked familiarity in my world, and if anything was out of it, or rearranged, it cost me my sanity.