Pretty Faces Can Do Wonders- DNF

Eighteen

After two hours of talking to Nick, I concluded that he is too far gone. He just wouldn't stop talking about Karl, and as much as I like the boy, I couldn't help but feel like I was intruding in their relationship. I eventually had to tell Nick to calm down, and he did, flipping the conversation onto me. When I didn't cooperate, he asked if I wanted to play Mario Kart at his house. I denied, saying I had to finish homework. It wasn't true though, I just needed some time off from everyone. My mom was home after what seemed like ages, and I wanted to just hang around the house. Speaking of my mom, she knocked on the door, and opened it.

"Hey Sapnap, I'll talk later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." He hangs up, and I sit up on the bed.

"Were you busy?" She asks, settling down on the covers.

"Nope. It was just Nick talking about his date."

"With that boy? What was his name again?"

"Karl." She hums in recognition. "What about you? Have your eyes on someone?"

"No, but Nick said someone likes me." She grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Show me!" I laugh at her childishness. I pull up a picture that Karl had insisted that the four of us take. It was from Halloween, and I was now hesitating to show my mom the picture, purely because of the fact that Clay was looking at me intently. I hand her the phone, and she smiles at the picture.

"Is it this one?" She points at Clay.

"Yeah."

"Well, Nick's not wrong."

"Not you too." I groan, leaning on her shoulder.

"What's his name?"

"Clay, but everyone calls him Dream."

"Hmm. You've started going out more because of him."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all. I ought to thank him, in fact. I think the couch was starting to get a you-shaped dent in it." She snorts, and I'm very sure my grandmother would have had a stroke hearing her act 'unladylike'. I joined in with her, giggling.

"Do you want lunch? Just like every other birthday?"

"Only if we can go out." She shakes her head.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just that you've grown so much, but haven't grown at all."

"So poetic." My thoughts flash back to when Clay told me I was poetic under the bleachers. That was a fun day.

"Of course. Let's go, yeah?" I nod, and she stands up, leaving the room. I grab a jacket, and run down the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"You remember the little Chinese place we used to eat at?"

"Yeah," I say, putting on shoes. "I loved their food."

"Darling, I know." She smiles slightly, and opens the door for both of us. It's surprisingly warm outside, and I shed my jacket, to put it in the backseat later.

Mom plugs in her phone on the AUX, and plays songs that I recognize from years and years of listening to them. I find myself singing along, and even though it's off-key, none of us care. We're singing and laughing and screaming and it's amazing. I'm transported back to Friday, images of Clay singing and looking at me running through my mind, and I think about how that made me feel. I blamed the heat I felt on the room, and I blamed my flushed cheeks on the adrenaline, and I blamed the butterflies in my stomach on the nerves.