His Saving Grace

Chapter Nineteen

"John." He stirred, grumbling something uncomprehendable. I rolled my eyes.

"John, get the fuck up. It's six in the evening," I said, prodding his side with a can of soda. My dear best friend had been living on the couch (again) after going to God knows where with the boys for a week. He'd been sleeping for the past thirty six hours. He hadn't eaten, changed his clothes, and he smelled awful. The other boys had ever so kindly assigned me with the task of getting John off the couch becuse they were going to watch some basketball game later at seven, and while I tried to peel the six foot two man and probably lift him (again) to his room, the other boys camped out at Garrett's room to play World of Warcraft.

"Mmphh," John mumbled, raising an arm above his head that barely missed my face.

"Get up this instant, John Cornelius O'Callaghan the fifth, or..." I trailed off, trying to think of some insulting and scary threat that I haven't used on him for the past two hours. Nothing.

"Or what," he mumbled, smirking. I hit him with the nearest pillow within the vicinity that John hadn't sat on yet.

"Or nothing," I growled, jerking hard on his arm. It didn't seem to affect him, though. He rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up.

"Where's my shirt?" he asked, yawning.

"It's in the laundry," I said, taking the pillows from underneath him and returning them to their rightful places on the other armchairs.

"Okay," he said sleepily, staggering a little bit.

"I'll just take a shower..."

"Yes, you should," I said, crinkling my nose at him. He pouted at me.

"Do I smell that bad?"

"Yes, you do," I said, laughing.

~~

"GO MIAMIII!" Pat and Kennedy cheered, jumping up and down. We were watching the Heat vs. Mavericks game that John insisted I joined watching with them, though I wasn't really interested in anything sports related. They had invited Arianna, too, but she politely declined, saying that she had someone important to meet. That obviously left John wondering throughout the rest of the night. They'd invited Keith, too, though he also declined, which I was thankful for.

Jared scoffed. "The Mavericks are definitely going to win," he said a-matter-of-factly, waving the two boys off. They didn't seem to take notice of him, though. I, on the otherhand, was casually eating my second bowl of popcorn for the past hour. They didn't seem to mind that, either.

"You're such a pig," Garrett said, trying to get some popcorn from me. I held it away from him.

"Popcorn's mine," I said, sticking a tongue out at him.

"Selfish pig, I mean," he said, collapsing back into the sofa in defeat. "What's wrong with him?" Garrett asked, referring to John, who was curled up beside me, staring longingly at the ceiling.

"Arianna," I said and shrugged, popping some kernels into my mouth. I felt Garrett shrug beside me.

"He looks like he's mental."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a meanie." My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I handed Garrett the bowl of popcorn who smiled widely when I did.

"I'm getting that back, Nickelsen," I said, excusing myself from the living room. I headed to the front porch of the house and dug my phone out.

"Hello?" I said.

"Katie? It's Arianna."

"Arianna?" I said in disbelief, covering my ears and jamming the phone to my ear. The background music at wherever Arianna was was so loud and I could hear other people talking, and she sounded like she was whispering. "What's up? Anything wrong?"