Sadie (18+)

Chapter 9

I didn't remember the last time I'd been this terror-stricken. Under every pile and in every crevice of Tony's dark blue bedroom was something horrible—a moldy pizza box, a pair of boxers that had a strange substance stuck to them, a black banana peel, a piece of chocolate stuck to the carpet, and more that I had already blocked from my memory.

I never thought Tony was a gross person. He always smelled nice and had a sweet smile—that is, when he's actually smiling and not faking one. The state of his bedroom, however, leads me to believe that his attractive features are just a facade and he is, in fact, like every other disgusting college guy.

When Julia and I had gotten most his dirty clothing into the hamper, we noticed a lone sock shoved under the dresser.

"That's all you," I said, pointing at the slightly yellow sock. "I'm not touching another damn thing in here." Julia cursed under her breath, bending down to grab it.

She held the sock up, inspecting it as though it were a foreign object. "That's weird. It's like, hard."

"What do you mean?" I asked, walking over to her slowly, on guard as if the sock were to jump at me like a wild animal.

"I don't know, it's like, stiff or something," she said, turning it around in her hand. "Weird."

It took us both a second, but the realization of what this sock had endured soon registered. A blood curdling scream erupted out of our mouths at the same time, a sound so loud and disturbing that one would think we witnessed a murder. Julia dropped the sock, her eyes practically bulging out of her head, mouth agape. Our petrified screams attracted Gina and Vincent soon after.

"What the hell is going on?" Vincent asked, eyeing the room as if expecting another person to be in here with us. "What's wrong?"

"You know what's wrong?" Julia hollered, her cheeks flushed. "I just touched my brother's cum sock, that's what's wrong!"

"Oh my," Gina said, then turned Vincent, concern outlining her features. "Haven't they done enough? These poor girls are going to be traumatized forever. And maybe me, too."

Vincent awkwardly scratched his chin. "Fine. I guess Tony can take it from here when he comes home again. You girls are done."

Julia sprinted out of the room and I followed suit, avoiding Vincent's gaze, still feeling uneasy from our awkward interaction in the bathroom.

After washing and scrubbing our hands raw, Julia and I relaxed on her bed, thankful and relieved that we were done with our chores. The trauma of Tony's bedroom would not leave me anytime soon, that was for sure.

"When does he come home, anyway?" I asked, looking up from my phone over to Julia, her dark hair splayed against the pillow. While I spent a lot of time here, it was never this much. It was the first time I had ever even thought about Tony's whereabouts, let alone questioned them.

"It's usually pretty random," she replied. "He'll be home for the trip next month, though. Are you still coming?"

"Oh shit," I cursed. "I totally forgot the trip. Julia, what am I gonna do?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up and tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. She fiddled with her helix piercing on her right ear, the little diamond stud glimmering.

"My mom," I answered. "I haven't been home in a while. What if she flips out? I can't even think about telling her about the trip right now."

"Maybe you should talk to her," she said. "It'll be hard, but avoiding her might make things worse. Has she texted you at all?"

I chewed my bottom lip, shaking my head. "No. I'm nervous."

Before Julia could comment further, a soft knock startled us. Vincent stepped into the room and cautiously walked over to the edge of the bed and sat, the mattress slightly sinking.

"Mom needs help with dinner," he said to Julia. "Mind giving her a hand?"

"Sure," she responded. "Dad, we gotta take Sadie to her house soon."

"I can drive myself, you know," I said. "I'll be fine. I'm not a baby, okay?"

They exchanged a glance, then Julia gave me a small smile before heading out.

"Listen, Sadie—"

"No," I interrupted. "I don't wanna talk about my mom."

Vincent scratched his jaw. "That's not what I was going to talk about."

"Oh," I mumbled, scratching my nose even though it didn't itch. "Sorry."

"I was going to apologize about earlier. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I waved him away. "You didn't. I don't know why I got like that."

He perked up, then nudged my arm. "You sure?"

This is how we always were. Vincent had been a playful man the moment I met him. I was a middle schooler then, with too much acne and braces I hated. I often wondered if I still looked like that to him, so small and unsure of herself, so naive.

The stern side of him that sometimes comes out is always from a good place, and I liked that about him. I wished my mother were like that, like a balanced, fair parent, the way they're supposed to be.

I nudged him back. "I'm sure. Thanks for taking care of me."

A silence followed, and the urge to touch him grew stronger within the seconds that passed. The evening sun cast a ray over the bed, illuminating the two of us, accentuating the olive tone in his skin. I felt my heart colliding in the depths of my chest as we looked at each other. I wanted to feel his, wondering if it were thumping as fast as mine.

I reached my hand out, cautiously, slowly, then brushed my knuckles against his overgrown stubble. I heard a soft breath escape his lips. I expected him to push me away, or to laugh, or to say anything at all, but he didn't. There was a quizzical look in his eyes, but he remained still, watching me.

"It's growing out," I commented quietly, pressing my fingers against its thick texture. "I like it." The bulge of his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed.

I studied his complexion, waiting for him to tell me to stop. I again noticed the ringlet of gold against the hazel of his irises, a rather stark contrast. I had noticed it before, but it was brighter in this lighting. If it were anyone else, it would be just pretty. On him, it was extraordinary.

The laughter of Gina echoed from downstairs, dissipating the moment. My hand fell to my lap in an instant. Vincent silently rose from the bed, then looked down at me cross-legged and dazed.

"Thanks," he said, then left the room. I stared at the wall, perplexed that I had been unable to decipher the expression on his face just moments ago.