~24~ Cave In

(Angel’s POV)

Something wasn’t right. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want to deal with it—especially not in public with no analysis. Unfortunately, I cut lunch short with Brian and Lulu in order for all of us to go back home for the rest of the day, I guess. And plus, I didn’t want to talk about any of the dangers from that stupid Drug.

To my surprise, not only did it rain on our way from the mall to my house, but there were two cars parked along the street in front of the townhouse. Hmm. I unlocked the door with Brian and Lulu behind me and immediately smelt sea food when I opened the door.

“Hello?” I called out, hearing frying of some sort of food.

“In here!” Nelly called from the kitchen. The three of us rounded the corner and saw Nelly, Mia, Archer, and Streeter grilling…frying…baking food in the kitchen. It smelled delicious, matching the wonderful colors on the counters, ready to be added or even served.

“What’s going on?” Brian asked.

“I decided to invite everyone over for…a dinner,” Nelly informed. Cuz that’s what every confused and odd-feeling girl wants to come home to…yay.

“Hey, Lulu,” Archer greeted, walking over and kissing Lulu’s cheek without laying a hand on her due to the fact that they were covered in flour-y substance.

“Where’s everyone else?” Lulu asked with a smile.

“I’m not enough for you?” Archer asked, offended. Lulu playfully rolled her eyes.

“Grace, Zac, and Callaghan are at the store. We ran out of vegetable oil and we needed more variety,” Mia informed, even though I could name about seven different dishes just on first glance of all that they were preparing.

“And Ty?” Brian asked.

“He’s in the back patio, I think,” Nelly shrugged.

“Sweet,” Brian said before leaving.

“Do you need any help in here?” I asked.

“No!” all of them yelled. Well then…

“I’ll be upstairs with Lulu, then. We just ate, though, so if dinner’s soon, we’ll probably—”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be a long time until it’s ready. Gracie is terrible at grocery shopping. Let alone with two guys,” Nelly laughed. I nodded once and then left for my room.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap. I didn’t mean to pull you away from Archer or anything, I just—” I started to tell Lulu about ten minutes after we even entered my room.

“It’s fine,” Lulu interrupted. “And plus, I need to start being a little hard to get for Archer.”

“Of course,” I giggled before hearing commotion downstairs of probably Grace, Zac, and Callaghan getting here. It was confirmed when Lulu gave me a weird look from the window that she was previously looking out of. She’s been doing that all day; she and Brian gave me weird looks every time Zac came in the picture—his name directly mentioned or not.

I’m kind of mad at the fact they think I’d be so petty as to act like his name meaent anything. Let alone his presence.

“You don’t have to do that every time it’s him, alright?” I said, starting to pull the sheet over me in the bed.

“Do what?” she asked as if stupid.

“Give me that look,” I clarified. “And the same goes to Brian. I’m not like you and care about what he did or what he does.”

Once I said that, I meant it, but then felt the same as at the mall right after I had said “Why is everything changing?” It’s like some kind of tinge in my body coming from Lulu. Maybe it wasn’t Lulu. Maybe it was my conscience. But I doubt my conscience would be traveling through my body in a way to twist my stomach into tightening and put slight pressure in my head with a pull at…my heart or some area near it with the same functions.

“I’m gonna go ahead and take that nap now…” I said, awkwardly as Lulu had just looked away from me and to the computer screen of her pink Laptop. I was right. Things were changing.

***

When I woke up, Lulu wasn’t there.

“Angel!” someone yelled from downstairs, or maybe the hallway upstairs—somehow knowing when I recently woke up. Suddenly, Mia appeared in the open doorway. “Well it’s good to know you’re up, sleepy head. We can’t officially start dinner without you. Come on!”

I patted down my bedhead hair and followed her downstairs. Everyone was sitting at the huge dining table that had adjustable lengths—which Nelly thought was a waste of money when we bought it. I took a seat without really looking at anyone but Brian, who sat to my left, and Mia who sat to my right. There was already a plate made for me sitting on the place mat. It had grilled, fried and even baked shrimp, French fries, corn, and other very colorful foods.

“Now we can eat!” Lulu exclaimed. I looked to my right diagonal to see her sitting across from Archer, who was on the other side of Mia. In a way, I was frustrated she actually let me sleep for three hours without waking me when I had company over here.

“We could’ve ate ages ago if only Angel was awake,” Ty commented beneath his breath and then Brian nudged his shoulder. There! That’s when I felt it again. That stomach-knotting, brain-pressuring feeling that sent a vibe of anger or hatred through my body that I couldn’t act upon.

“Sorry,” I hissed.

“It’s fine,” Brian said anyways. “And plus, as I see it, none of us are sticks to need more servings before everyone else…except Streeter.”

“Funny,” Streeter sneered, making a silly face. He, Brian, Ty, and Callaghan joked together as the rest of us ate, listened, and laughed in response. But all the while, I kept feeling the same inducing feeling of resentment coming from somewhere—not even from Streeter, who was taking personal criticism over his lifestyle, personality, looks, and habits well—and it took one glance for me to see that it was Grace.

“How about you, Angel?” she asked me, but I was too focused on the knot in my stomach. The shrimp wasn’t helping.

“Huh?” I asked.

“We’re saying that even if Streeter believes his blue eyes are the ‘most amazing thing’ about him, blue eyes are so main stream nowadays,” she clarified as some people still laughed. Hmm. Seems as if I really missed parts in this table-wide conversation…

“Uh…” I stammered like an idiot. I examined Streeter and saw that with his pretty blue eyes, he was actually attractive. “I think that blue eyes are seen as the ‘perfect’ eye color because of the whole ‘blonde hair, blue eyes’ beauty crap, but it depends…”

“I’m confused,” someone muttered.

“I mean, look at Nelly. Her eyes are beautiful and they’re blue.  But yeah, they’re a bit mainstream, even though they are, in fact, amazing, Streeter…I just don’t prefer that eye color,” I spoke.

“Thank you. A woman with knowledge,” Streeter beamed. I smiled back at him.

“And what eye color do you prefer?” Grace asked. Another inducing feeling of loathe and I was definite it came from her this time. It was stronger though. But why? I had nothing against her. Maybe I was getting a virus or something.

Before I answered, I looked around, making sure no one wanted to intervene me speaking. To me, it wasn’t an interesting topic, but to everyone else, they were interested…except for Zac Tyler, who looked down at the table, just like I was doing frequently throughout the day.

“Brown,” I answered. Brown was…normal, but reminiscing of chocolate…yet soft and hard. It could mean a few things.

But like I thought, no one really said anything but their expression of laughter and when I looked down to feel the tugging in my chest, I felt Zac look at me, but of course in reality, he probably wasn’t.

“By brown, she means green,” Archer said as if showing off for Lulu or something. One more tug.

This time I excused myself and scooted my chair back. While no one else realized, Brian grabbed my arm.

“You okay?” he asked. I looked up into his, both, brown and green eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” I lied. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”

And so I did. I went upstairs with absolutely no problem. Well, sort of. The only problem I had was the worry in the back of my mind about everyone talking about me behind my back. But hopefully with Brian and Lulu there, they’d defend me if anything happened. Nonetheless, when I was washing my hands quietly—as if I could hear down a flight of stairs through a closed door—I started feeling a knot in my chest and felt as if someone dropped a five pound weight on my head. And then I felt as if someone really did drop on a weight on my head—meaning I felt pissed off over some hypothetical situation like an idiot. I calmed down and washed my face before attempting to head down the stairs.

That was, until my stomach seemed to tighten and when I blinked, I found myself thrown off balance on the stairs, but I was caught in someone’s arms. But by then, I didn’t have enough time to register who the h3ll it even was because I was pushing myself off of them in order to run back to the bathroom and puke out all the seafood, vegetables, and pretty much anything else I ate at this dinner that wasn’t pushed around my plate. To my surprise, someone was holding my thick hair out of the way of the toilet, out of my face, and off my neck. When I was done with all that, my head still felt as if I was in a hangover and the most I could do would be sit with my butt on the cold floor and lean my head on the toilet in case I was to throw up again.

As I did that, my eyes could barely stay open and I felt the helpful person clipping my hair up and then I heard them leave.

“Here,” someone shook me awake, to my surprise because I didn’t even know I dozed off. I opened my eyes, feeling better and saw a hand offering me an Advil and glass of water. I didn’t question it. I just gulped it down. Since I already felt better and I was so stubborn, I moved and sat on the edge of the tub and looked up to whoever was helping me. At least I knew him.

He was kneeling down to me in aide. He had the same caramel colored skin, maybe a shade or two darker. His jaw line was still uneven, but I hadn’t really cared any of the time I knew him. It was a unique imperfection along with his crooked nose that had been broken many times. His hair was shorter though—instead of his curly, dark locks reaching about to his neck, it was cropped short with an actual part. And his eyes—I didn’t look. I didn’t want to. I didn’t care if they were blue; or green; or black; or brown; or even all of the colors. I didn’t want to look because I’d be hooked.

“Better?” he asked. It sent me a memory from a long time ago.

“Here,” a voice said. I opened my eyes to see Zac standing in front of me with a pill and glass of water.

“This won’t kill me right?” I managed to joke, taking the pill from his hand.

“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve left you in that fire,” he commented. I gulped down the pill and chugged the water. “Better?”

“Yeah…” I answered.

“Good. Now go to sleep,” he ordered, dropping a pillow on me that was previously on the floor where Joey and I slept. I watched him go back to his bed, adjust Lacy, and spoon her to fall back asleep.

That’s when we were friends. Best friends. But that didn’t matter now. He probably didn’t even remember any of that night or the drunken night before. All I could remember was, surely, the hangover.

“Come on,” he muttered, throwing an arm around my waist and pulling me up. He didn’t need help. He was naturally strong and judging by the tight fabric around his arm muscles, he’d gotten stronger. He pulled me across the hall and set me on my bed, also adding a wet towel to my forehead.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled.

“You didn’t look fine when you were upchucking all that food,” he commented. “And you can’t blame it on being bad because it was fresh. We bought it today.”

“I’m not blaming the food or the cooks,” I said. Geez. Assumptions, much? I took the wet towel off of my head and placed it on my stomach, not caring if it left the biggest water stain and contemplating the idea of lifting my shirt and placing it on my hot skin. But I felt better for the most part.

“How long have you felt bad?” Zac asked.

“Does it matter?” I asked. “All that matters is that I don’t feel that bad now—”

“ ‘That bad’?” he quoted. “It matters, Angel.”

I missed the way he said my name. I cannot believe this. I actually miss the way someone says my name. Hmph.

“No it doesn’t,” I argued. He sort of flinched and looked away from me.

“Maybe  the sea food acting up with your stomach,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said with no patience. As if the hatred I felt earlier was boiling up for now.

“Or maybe your body’s just tired…” he added.

“Yeah, maybe,” I repeated.

“Or maybe—”

“I know how it is to be sick, okay?” I said angrily before trying to get around him—who sat at the edge of my bed in my way, nearly.

“Are you pregnant?” I thought I heard him ask when I successfully got up like a fat person would rolling on a water bed. I spun around to face him and scoffed incredulously.

“Did you just ask me if I was pregnant?” I asked, offended. I don’t know if he was asking that only because of the “symptoms” or that I got fat over the year or something.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, honestly. I laughed once. I walked over to the door of my room and opened it.

“Get out of my house,” I ordered.

“It was only a question,” he muttered, starting to walk out.

“A stupid one!” I commented. “Who the h3ll would knock me up?! Huh? Myself? Do you see any boyfriend of mine running around here?!”

“Well you never know. You and Joey have your—”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I yelled this time. “What the h3ll makes you think—are you walking away from me, now?!”

He spun around to me. By now, we were right outside my room.

“You told me to get out of your house, so I’m doing it, alright!?” he responded. My feet were glued to the floor, telling me that no matter what my head said (“Zac Tyler is an a$$hole”) or what my previous feelings said (“Chase after him!”) or even what my self-respect said (“He called you pregnant-fat, now he has to face the wrath that any normal, sane woman would give him. Chase him to yell at him!”). My feet were the smartest thing in my body right now.