That night, for some reason, I think of Nathan.  Not in a weird way obviously, but more about the what-ifs of the whole situation.  I'm wondering if I would have moved houses if I had taken up one of his offers to go bowling, or go to the movies, would I still be here, unable to sleep on this familiar yet foreign bed, tracing the outline of the moon with my fingertips? 

            I wonder if he might have been able to make up for what I lost with René?

            That's messed up I tell myself immediately, and turn away from the window, facing my dresser that's pushed up against the wall.  A particularly strong blast of wind blows my curtains open, and soon, the thin trail of light from the moon becomes even thinner against my bedsheets as dark gray clouds swim in the sky.

            And then it starts raining.  Heavy droplets of water fall from the sky and I can hear the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and the ground.  I turn around against the window again, my curtains blowing ferociously, and take a deep breath.  I'm not in a mood to get up and close my window, but there's water entering the room now, so I force myself up.  My legs are shaking for some reason, and then with a start, I realize that this is the first time since the incident that I've slept with my window closed.

            This is stupid. 

            It is stupid.  I feel like I need to claw my way out of a pothole of shame—shame that simple things like sleeping with a window closed can make my shoulders shake, and that it's been over a month already and I still feel like sobbing with the water running in the shower every time I think of René.

            I miss her.

            I don't have some well-versed metaphor to explain it, just three simple words that keep replaying in my head, with no reachable pause button.

            I drift off to sleep at some time before my alarm goes off, but it's definitely not enough.  I grudgingly lift myself out of my bed, not bothering to make it, and head to the bathroom to shower.  When I come downstairs, the entire house is chilly, and when I look outside to the windows, there are large puddles on the sidewalk, and a light drizzle falling from the sky.   

            "Good morning Lexi.  Did you sleep well last night?" Kira asks, walking down the stairs with heavy steps and yawning while rubbing her eyes.  "The rain woke me up."

            "Yeah," I mumble.  I don't think I would have been able to sleep if it weren't for the rain.

            "Well that's good," Kira nods, and she comes down to the kitchen.  We stand there in silence for a while as she busies herself with making some coffee, and I lean on the countertops with my elbow, watching the rain hit the windows.

            "What do you want for breakfast?" Kira asks.

            "Anything is fine," I reply absentmindedly, looking away from the window and starting to twirl my hair around my fingers.

            "Good morning guys!" Allison exclaims, clambering down the stairs in a surprisingly good mood.   She walks over to where Kira is and gives a big kiss; I turn around and mockingly gag while Kira shoves her away.

            "So, are you planning on walking to school today?  I don't mind giving you a ride if you need one," Allison offers, looking out the window.

            "No, I think I'll manage," I reply.  "Could I just take an umbrella?"

            "Yeah, I think there's one in the storage closet.  Let me find it," Allison mutters and walks away, while Kira looks at me concernedly.

            "Are you sure?  And you'll have to walk back in the rain too.  It's really not any trouble for one of us to take you to school.  And if it's really a big deal, I can drop you like a block away so nobody sees you riding with your mother," Kira says, and I let out a small smirk.

            "I don't care about that," I laugh.  "I just don't need a ride."

            "Here!" Allison declares walking back into the room with a bright green umbrella in her hands.  "You're okay with the color right?  Kind of obnoxious, but it's the only one I could find right now."

            "Thank you, and don't worry about it," I say gratefully and take the umbrella for her.  I place it next to my backpack that's near the front door.

            "Okay, well, here's some toast," Kira says, handing me a plate, and I smile at her.

            "Thank you."

            I finish eating and walk to school, and thankfully the drizzling goes away and I don't have to walk in the rain.  It's still cold though, and I pull my jacket around myself and tremble a little.  I observe the way my breath comes out in little puffs and then dissolves, if that's the right word, into the air.

            "Lexi!" Zara calls as I walk over to her standing by the door of our first-period class. 

            "Hello!" I call cheerfully and give her a small wave.

            "Are you okay?" Zara asks suddenly, and I blink at the abrupt change in the tone of her voice.

            "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I say, finding myself a little on-guard by the question.  People have asked me the question so many times, I don't even bother to think whether or not I am okay.  It feels different, more genuine coming from Zara though, and I do think about my answer.  Though, whatever I think, I don't say it.  In the general state of things, I'm not okay, but I can't just give Zara that answer.  At this moment, there's nothing huge happening to me, I'm not going to drop dead in the next second—

            You never know.

            "I don't know, your eyes are really red, and you have really big eye bags," Zara states, and I self-consciously rub my eyes.  Zara seems to realize what she just said and widens her eyes, saying, "No offense!  Obviously.  I wasn't saying that you were, like ugly—you're actually not at all ugly!  In fact, you're really pretty, and you have really nice and smooth hair, and long eyelashes so your eyes are pretty and stand out on your face!  Which is why I noticed that.  Hell, if I was into girls I would completely date you!"

            I smile in spite of myself, and the images that just came to my mind about what happened.  "Don't worry about it.  I'm just tired and didn't sleep a lot," I reassure.

            "Oh, is it because of that project Ross assigned to all of his students?" Zara asks, her face full of concern.  "You know, your health matters more than your grades, so you should sleep instead of staying up late.  Wait, when's the project even due?"

            "No!  I didn't even do the project.  I just... couldn't sleep, that's all," I explain, and Zara's expression shifts again.

            "Welp."

            The rest of the morning and lunch goes by with Zara talking my ear off, and me enjoying it though I'm sure I would've hated it if it was anyone else. 

            Though I wouldn't tell them of course.

            I turn up to Ross's classroom, fully expecting him to give us time to work on our project in class, especially since I didn't bother to finish what I started in class yesterday.

            He doesn't.

            And he doesn't for the rest of the week either.

            Turns out we did start a book written before the Bubonic Plague was eradicated.  I didn't talk to Andrew at all either, except for a small exchange on Thursday about how much of the packet each of us had finished.  I'd finished half, and he'd finished none of it.

            When the bell rings on Friday, I track down Andrew after school, figuring that if Ross isn't going to give us time, and he can't finish the packet on his own so we can start the actual project, I'm going to have to make him do it.

            But in a nice, non-abrasive way.

            "Andrew!" I say after searching the campus for ten minutes and realizing that he was in the parking lot with Michel, and I wasted all my time. 

            He seems to be immersed in something Michel's saying, observing his face carefully and nodding every few times.  The first time I call his name, he doesn't seem to notice, so I raise my voice an octave higher and say it again.  He hears me this time, and turns around to look me right in the eyes and gives me a grim smile—the kind you give a stranger when you make eye contact and it feels too rude to look away so you just awkwardly arrange your face into something that's not too rude.

            "Lexi.  Hi," Andrew says blandly as I walk over to him.

            "Um, hi," I mutter, and then stand there awkwardly in front of him, all my knowledge of the English language seeming to disappear. 

            We stand there for what seems like hours, Andrew coughing and shoving his hands in his pockets, while I hide my hands behind my back, and play with my fingers.  I don't play with my zipper though, because instead of recalling actual words, I recall the time Andrew asked me what I was doing with my zipper.

            Michel stares at us, and that does nothing to help my state.

            "So," Andrew begins, and I shake my head and take a deep breath.

            "So, yeah."

            What the fuck Lexi?

            "Yeah, what?" Andrew asks, and I start wishing he was drunk like that first time we talked.

            "Are you free this weekend?" I blurt out, and then realize what it sounds like.  I glance at Michel for a moment, and he raises his eyebrows at us.

            "What?" Andrew asks, and his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

            "Not like that!" I correct quickly.  "I meant for our project.  You know the one Ross gave us?  He never gave us time for it, so I feel like we should just finish it."

            "Oh, yeah," Andrew mutters sheepishly and then runs a hand through his hair.  "Yeah, we should probably do that."

                 "I think you just broke his heart," Michel snickers, and I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear or not, but I immediately feel my palms go clammy, and the back of my neck and my ears begin to heat up.

            I don't respond to Michel's comment, mainly because I think I forgot English again, but Andrew shoves him and snaps, "piss off dickhead."

            "No need to be rude," Michel grins, and I bite my lip and furiously stare at the ground until I'm absolutely sure my ears aren't burning as badly.

            "Sorry," Andrew mutters.

            "It's fine," I squeak and then shake my shoulders out.

            "So this weekend?  I probably can do it.  Saturday or Sunday?" Andrew asks, and I take a huge breath before letting out a reply.

            "Yeah sure.  Just let me know whenever," I say, eager to get away from whatever the hell is going on here.

            "Cool."

            "How are you going to let each other know?" Michel asks, leaning on the hooding of his car with a smug grin on his face.

            "Oh yeah, I'd need Andrew's phone number for that.  Thanks for reminding me," I smile, trying to mimic Michel's shit-eating expression. 

            "Yeah, I should probably give you that," Andrew sighs, and then pulls out his phone.  It's not an old phone model, but it looks like he dropped it off a skyscraper then drove over it with a truck.

            We exchange numbers, and then I quickly walk away, my heart beating so rapidly in my chest.  I wrap my arms around myself and shiver, the chilliness in the weather suddenly getting to me, and bite my lip.  My ears are going red again, and I think my stomach's doing backflips.

            And then it starts to rain again.

• • •

            I'm going over to Andrew's on Sunday at eight.  He texted me exactly an hour after I left school about it, and didn't reply to any of my messages afterward.  Mainly, they were about why the two of us couldn't have simply gone to a public library or something, and how my parents probably wouldn't even let me go over to his house, but by the time it was Saturday at eleven pm, I received no reply.

            I've told Allison and Kira that it's a female friend's house for a project, and now I'm unable to look them in the eye.  I've always been a pathological liar, and the horrible thing is that I never even felt sorry about it.  And now that circumstances have changed, it seems the guilt won't stop piling up on my shoulders.

            And what makes me feel even more like a pile of dog shit is that I probably wouldn't have even felt guilty if it weren't for what had happened.  I'm a shit person, and even now, I'm still lying to them for my own benefit, if going over to Andrew's house can be called a benefit.

            "You're okay with me taking the car right?" I ask Kira in the living room before I leave.  She's reading a thick book, and absentmindedly nods at me, waving me off while Allison frowns at me, biting into her apple with a big crunch.

            "Just be careful with the rain okay?  I know you kids want to 'flex' by speeding or whatever—"

            "Mom!" I laugh, and Allison suppresses a smile too.

            "But it's wet and slippery outside, and they've already closed a couple of roads nearby so if you need anything, remember to call us.  And drive according to the speed limit and keep your phone on in case anything happens.  If you slip somewhere or feel unsafe, you have us and the police department on speed dial, right?" Allison asks, and I solemnly nod at her.

            "Yeah."

            "Okay, well then have fun!" Allison says, as I slightly open the door and pull up the hood on my jacket, and clutch my papers tighter in my hand.

            "It's a project for school!" I call back.  Kira looks up from her book over at us and smiles at me, and I wave to her before closing the door shut behind me.  It's already dark, and my heart is beating in my chest like it's trying to keep an entire musical ensemble on the beat, and I don't really think it's because of the night sky.

            I pull up the instructions on my phone—Andrew's house is a fifteen-minute drive from mine—and take a deep breath before I put my feet on the gas pedal and pull out of the driveway.  As I drive I slowly notice how on the way to Andrew's house, the houses seem to become more and more compact, and they seem to get closer and closer together.  When I'm finally at the location, one of the streetlamps seem to be flickering, and almost all of the houses have closed shutters or the lights turned off.

            I'm starting to shiver and I'm inside the heated car.

            I finally pull up to Andrew's house, and carefully read the house number through the darkness and the rain before parking by the curb.  I get out, holding my papers protectively, and curse under my breath when I realize I just stepped in a dirty puddle of water.  Hopefully, Andrew doesn't wear shoes inside the house.

            His house looks like it is in considerably better shape than some of the other ones, and the car parked on his driveway seems much newer than some of the other cars I've seen parked around the neighborhood.  There's also a light coming from inside the window and I can make out a silhouette moving from inside.

            I take a deep breath, which is the only kind of breath I seem to be taking nowadays, and walk up to the door, admiring some of the flowers on his front yard which I can kind of see in the lack of light while I do so.

            I step up to the door, observing the black pattern that runs around the doorknob before I press the button on the side of the door, and hear a bell sound go on from inside the house.  There's the sound of footsteps scurrying to the door, and someone talking from inside the house.  Even though whoever's inside definitely did hear me, it takes a while before the door opens.  I close my eyes when it does, and open my mouth getting ready to talk when a voice different from Andrew's answers me.

            "Can I help you?"

            It sounds slightly higher than his and when I open my eyes, I'm hit with the sight of a boy who's around my height, maybe a little bit taller.  He and Andrew have some resemblance—the same face shape, build, but the boy's eyes are a bright blue, and his hair's a lot lighter, a dirty blonde color I'd say.

            I compulsively shake my head before standing up straighter and saying, "I'm here to work on a project."

            When the boy doesn't respond, I realize that my information probably wasn't sufficient enough for him to understand why I'm standing at his door. 

            "It's for English.  With Andrew?"  I subconsciously look down at the boy's feet and he's barefoot, so I breathe a sigh of relief.  I won't have to wear my soggy shoes inside.  When the boy still doesn't reply, I lift up my bag with our project materials in what I hope seemed like a helpful manner.

            "Anthony, who is it?" another voice calls from inside the house, sounding a bit more similar to Andrew's, and I look over Anthony's shoulder to see a taller guy, about Andrew's height walk over to us.  He, like Anthony, doesn't share too many features with Andrew and looks more like what I assume is his brother.

            What does catch my eyes though is the swirling tattoos that cover his arms.  They all look so intricately done, even though most of the designs look like they're abstract.  Then I notice a small tattoo on his bicep, right under the sleeve of his shirt, so small that I'm sure I would've missed it otherwise.  It's written in a simple serif font, and I'm trying to make out what it says, but the guy moves his arms too quickly for me to read it.

            "It's for Andrew," Anthony says, waiting for his brother to come close enough to the door, and then walking back inside.

            The taller guy doesn't look too much older than me, most likely a college student, or just-graduate, and I assume this to be Andrew's older brother.  I subconsciously look past the guy's shoulders and wonder if there's anyone else left inside the house who's going to walk in here as well.

            "Really?  Are you sure you have the right Andrew?" the guy asks, raising both of his eyebrows at me and crossing his arms.

            "Um, Addington...Andrew, I think?  Sorry, I'm new here so I'm not too good with names," I stammer, thinking back to the time I saw Andrew scribble his name down on his paper.

            "He said he was going somewhere with his friends, but you're welcome to wait for him if you'd like," the guy explains, holding the door open a little wider and stepping out of the way.

            "Uh, can I call him first?" I ask nervously, my wet fingers fumbling around in my pockets to desperately pull out my phone.  I can hear the blood pounding in my ears as I try to open it, but it doesn't recognize my thumbprint so I have to type in the password...

            "Doesn't matter, he completely busted his phone on Friday," the guy explains again.

            "Oh," I mutter dumbly before dropping my phone back into my pocket.  I shift awkwardly from toe to toe, and bite my lip, staring at the ground.

            "I think he should be coming back any time now," the guy offers helpfully and I nod, debating whether to leave or wait for him.  I'd feel too out of place going inside the house, but the front porch is wet and cold, and there's a sheet of rain pouring outside too. 

            I do eenie meenie miney mo in my head and then slowly step closer to the door, about to ask the guy if it's not going to be too much trouble to wait for Andrew inside, but he seems to sense what I'm doing and kindly steps out of the way, giving me a polite smile.

            "Just take your shoes off here," he says, gesturing to the shoe rack by the door inside.  I do notice he looks at my wet shoe for an extra-long moment, and my face burns as I quickly step inside and pull them off.

            "I'm sorry about this," I murmur bashfully, and the guy smiles again.

            "It's no problem at all!  Besides, Andrew said he's coming back soon so just make yourself comfortable until he comes."  He gestures around to the sofas, which look extremely comfortable piled with pillows.  They're covered in antique designs, and in fact, the entire house gives off a vintage, homey vibe.

            I gingerly sit down on the sofa, one hand fiddling with my zipper and the other tracing the designs on the couch.  I look up and realize that Anthony's sitting across from me, his eyes wandering across the room with his headphones in.  His head is slightly bopping to whatever music is playing, but his leg is bouncing so vigorously I think it's trying to run off his body.

            "Do you want anything to drink?" the older brother offers, walking in behind me after closing the door.

            "Oh!  Thank you, but no," I say, smiling gratefully at him.

            "Okay, you don't mind if I go to my room right?  I just have some stuff to take care of."

            "No, no, of course not!" I assure, my voice sounding jumpy.

            "Okay, feel free to ask me or Anthony if you need anything," he says before walking away.

            I pull out my phone and pretend to be busy, but in reality, I'm scrolling mindlessly without really paying any attention to what's on my screen.  And thank god too, because most of my social media is filled with pictures of my old classmates. 

            My heart is still beating at the same pace, and there's sweat coming from every pore on my body.  I feel stupid, sitting here waiting for Andrew to come, and there's a small part of me telling me that I probably should've expected this: I'm some random girl who moved here, and Andrew's Andrew.

            I don't know much about him, but I don't think I should've expected him to really care too much about this.  Maybe he regrets picking me as a partner and now doesn't want to have to do anything with me.

            I don't know how much time has passed, but at some point, Anthony leaves the room, and then after a while, the brother comes in.  He gently clears his throat, and I rapidly move to look at him, wondering if I'm even going to be able to hear what he's about to tell me.

            "Hey, I don't mean to be rude or anything but it's been half-an-hour, and Andrew was supposed to be home by now so if he's not then..."

            "No, I understand!" I exclaim, jumping up and picking up the bag that I laid against the side of the sofa.  "Sorry, I really didn't mean to inconvenience you."

            "Of course not.  It's just that I don't know how much longer he's going to take and I don't want you to just sit here and wait.  I would've called him, but you know, his phone broke."

            "It's fine!  Don't worry about it.  I'll just head out, but thank you," I repeat, giving him a nod that seems like a borderline bow, and head outside.

            And then I see Andrew walking out of a car.

            He's talking to a girl with long black hair, and when her face comes into the light I realize it's Hayley.  Both of them are getting wet under the rain but neither of them really seem to care that much.  They're both talking, but I can't really make out their words from where I'm standing.

            Then Andrew leans in to give her a hug, and something in my stomach seems to twist, though, I do everything that's humanly possible to keep it from happening.

            "Andrew!"

            Andrew breaks away from the hug to look at his brother and frowns.

            "Axel!" he calls back with the same tone of voice.

            "Get over here!" Axel yells, and then says in a softer tone, "Hi Hayley."

            She waves halfheartedly at him and then makes a face at Andrew before saying something and getting into the car and driving away.  Andrew looks at it for a moment before turning around to us. 

            We make eye contact, but I break it as soon as it happens.

            As soon as Andrew comes near the door, Axel begins to chew him out.  "You know she's been waiting here for thirty minutes right?"

            Andrew opens his mouth to say something, but Axel cuts him off.  "Where the hell were you?"

            "I-I got my phone repaired," Andrew replies lamely, pulling his phone out of his pocket, all the cracks on the screen gone.

            "Really?  Or were you and Hayley just screwing around because you can't be bothered?"

            "Fuck off," Andrew mutters, crossing his arms, and rolling his eyes.

            Axel shakes his head disapprovingly and mutters something under his breath that I can't make out, his face still stony as he looks at Andrew.

            "Yeah, I'll fuck off once I get an explanation."

            "Well then don't fuck off, I don't really care," Andrew snaps back.

            Axel doesn't respond to him and instead turns to me.  "I'm sorry about him."

            "Oh!  It's-I-I mean," I stutter, not really knowing what to say when, Andrew speaks up.

            "I'm sorry Lexi.  It just slipped my mind, and my phone like broke so, I couldn't-I couldn't tell you that I'd be this late," Andrew mumbles, his voice changing completely as his gaze breaks away from his brother and turns towards me.

            "Yeah," I say quietly.  "It's fine.  I'll just go now and we can work on it some other time."

            "Yeah," Andrew agrees.

            I turn away from both of them, clutching my papers close to my chest.  The rain pours on my hair, but I don't even bother pulling up my hood.  The only good thing is that my heart's not beating so loudly anymore, and the concert it's keeping track of is over.

            I open the car door and throw myself into the driver's seat.  I look over at the door of the house, just in time to see it slam shut and two silhouettes go into the living room.  They seem to be arguing with each other.

            I don't really bother to think about what's going through my mind at this moment.  I just have to go home.

            So I do.

AN: A little bit of a long chapter so hopefully it's good! I have some stuff planned for the next chapter so hopefully, you guys will like it ;)

Also, have to apologize to DIST0RTIONI for telling her I was going to update a week ago even though I never did.

Anyways, be sure to vote and comment if you enjoyed, and remember that I always appreciate feedback on my stories! Thanks for reading!