Growing Pains

Chapter 10 - I don't really follow crowds

K Y L I E

I had a headache brewing in my temples, but still, I started, "Right, I did consider going home and leaving you here to clean up this mess all by yourself, but it seems like everyone else already thought of it, and see, I'm kind of an icon. I don't really follow crowds, so..."

Jacob was lying face down in the very middle of his king-sized bed in only a pair of boxers. The morning sun filtered through the blinds and fell on the muscles of his back in the shape of a rectangle of light. I sat down beside his legs. He still didn't move.

"So... Here's where we're at. There are lines of coke on the living room coffee table. Enough vodka on your kitchen counters to keep Russia running for a few good months. I suspect there's semen in your pool and, finally, your parents called like ten times already. I didn't pick up because that's just not how my mothers raised me, but I did read the text messages because they just kept popping up. They're picking up your brother from the airport. They'll be here in about three hours. You should really get up."

Jacob groaned, rolling over on his king-sized bed, "You talk too much."

My middle school boyfriend had said the same thing and had been single ever since.

I shrugged, "So I've been told."

He sat up on his bed and rubbed his face intensively, as if he could brush off the hangover I knew he had.

"What did you say about my parents?" he asked.

"They're picking up your brother from the airport," I said, looking at the chipped nail polish on my thumb. I started picking at it.

"When will they be back?" Suddenly he was up, looking around his bedroom for something to wear, almost frantically, and finally grabbing a hoodie from his desk chair.

I had analyzed his bedroom already. It was clean, the type that could only be accomplished by a long-lived woman, not an oversexed arrogant boy. The walls were painted in a dark blue color, almost grey, and on one of them, Jacob had hung vintage posters of calendar girls. He had the typical shelf of sports trophies, weights lined up by a tall mirror, a plasma tv connected to several different games consoles I cared little for, and a desk so organized, I wondered if he had ever used it or if his cleaning lady was just that good.

"I don't know, in a couple of hours, I think," I said eventually, watching him read through the messages, his jaw clenching as he did, eyebrows furrowing.

"Fuck," he said. "Where the fuck is Edward?"

"Downstairs," I said. "He might be dead."

"What?" he asked. I followed him out of his bedroom and down the stairs, where he called for his friend, "Edward?!"

There was no answer, and when we turned the corner into the living room, we knew why. I knew it already, but now I knew it again. On one of the living room couches, Edward slept like a rock. Legs and arms spread out, mouth slightly open, chest moving slowly as he breathed in and out. Around him, the living room was chaos. There were broken glasses on the floor, drinks spilled everywhere, empty boxes of pizza greasing up the coffee tables, leftover slices on the carpet. People were animals.

"Edward!" Jacob tried again, walking closer to the couch, and hoovering over his friend.

Edward didn't react.

"Should we call an ambulance?" I was being serious, but Jacob ignored me. I didn't think he was hot enough to be this rude, but then again, I didn't think anyone was. "What if he needs to have his stomach pumped?"

"Fuck that," he said, slapping Edward across the face, so loud, I almost felt it on my cheek. "Wake up, bitch."

Edward flinched seconds after the slap, bringing his arms up to protect his face far too late, and Jacob turned back at me with a stupid arrogant look on his face.

"See?"

I offered him a bitter smile. On the couch, Edward rolled over with a long groan, his hands massaging his temples, his hair an absolute mess.

"Someone please kill me," he begged.

Jacob sat next to him and slapped a hand on his shoulder, "Your vagina is showing, Eds."

Edward didn't move, hand still on his head. His whole face was a textbook illustration of a trademark hangover.

"I don't even remember last night," Edward said. I thought it was convenient that he didn't, and I was sure Allora would too. Boys only ever remembered what they wanted to.

Jacob smirked, running a hand through his hair, "I'm sure you don't."

"I swear," he said, slowly sitting up on the couch. His face twisted in worry, "What if someone spiked my drink?"

Jacob rolled his eyes and then directed them at both me and Edward, "Right, this is all really cute and I'm sure we'll get back to it later, but right now, we need to start cleaning. My parents will be here soon, and the cleaning lady only comes at the end of the day so."

I almost laughed, "You think I'm gonna help you clean up all this mess?"

"Well, if you're not, then why are you still here?" he said, a smug smile on his lips.

"Maybe get off your high horse, honey, it's not a good angle for you." I wasn't being entirely honest here. It was a good angle, just not good enough. "But note taken. Next time I'll just leave you both asleep. Maybe your parents would have liked to come home to this new wave of interior design."

Jacob got up, still smiling, still slightly smug. I suspected he didn't know how to get rid of the smugness in the first place, suspected it really was true that he had it build into the structure of his face.

"Thank you," he said eventually, turning to Edward after and urging for him to get up.

Edward groaned but got up, "Do I have time to shower?"

Jacob rolled his eyes, already gathering the greasy pizza boxes on the coffee table, "You look beautiful."

Edward smiled, "I feel disgusting."

"Well, I'm gonna get going," I said with a bigger smile. "Good luck."

"Did your friends get home okay?" Edward asked when I started moving.

"So you do remember something," Jacob said, smirking, a tower of plastic cups balanced on the pile of pizza boxes on his arms as he moved to the kitchen.

"I remember Kylie didn't come alone," Edward said, pointing at me.

"Some took a taxi home last night. Some did it this morning. Allora's actually waiting for me in the car. She has a pretty bad hangover."

"Fuck," Edward said, "Well, I hope you all at least had fun last night.

"Of course they had fun. What the fuck?" Jacob was back with a bunch of plastic bags. Edward just rolled his eyes and took one from him.

"It was fun," I said, opening the front door. Outside, the sun started climbing up the clear blue sky, and down the road, my car was right where I left it, the passenger window open, Allora's head resting on her crossed arms.

"Good," Edward said behind my back. "Get home safe."

Jacob showed up right next to me, "Actually, how about you text me when you get home? You know, just so I can rest assured that you made it safe and sound."

I smiled and stepped out, "Nice try."