Lights (2013)

1

It's always the 'morning after' that gets to him. He likes the night before and everything, but he hates cleaning up the mess and that's where I come in. His house is trashed; red cups litter the lawn, his hungover friends are asleep everywhere. Sometimes I think they may be dead so I poke them with the toe of my shoe, but then they swat at me and I know they are just drunk. As unsanitary as it is, vomit coats the carpet along with spilled drinks. I wrinkle my nose.

His friends groan as I trip over them. I walk through his house towards the kitchen. I reach under the sink finding the cleaners and a plastic bin. I do this every Saturday morning. I go to his house, clean up his mess, and then nurse his hangover. I warn him over and over that this isn't a good life to live, but he never listens.

I pull dishwashing gloves over my hands so I can clean up the house without being too grossed out. I grab a trash bag, sliding the contents of the cluttered counter into the bag. I go around picking up underwear, cups, and anything else imaginable into the bag. I purse my lips as I walk into his room. A blonde slut is draped over top of him, both of them asleep. I pry off my gloves, dropping the bag to the side. I act like I just entered and I slam his bedroom door shut. The blonde jumps awake, and so does he.

"Oh my God!" I fake gasp into my hand. I conjure up fake tears, making it look like I'm heartbroken. "I can't believe you! You cheated on me!"

The blonde looks surprised at him. "Terry, you said you were single."

"Harry!" I fake whine, correcting her.

"No, I didn't say that...exactly. Blair, baby, can we talk about this?" He says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Talk about what, Harry? How you cheated on me with this--this whore?" I yell, most likely waking up the neighbors.

"Hey!" She whines. "Terry!"

"Harry!" I whine in her same tone. "You know what? Engagement off Harry!" I yell.

"You're--you're engaged?" The blonde gasps, grabbing her black dress off the floor.

"Ashley, no it's not like that," Harry says.

"Not like what, Harry? I came all this way to tell you--ugh. Never mind. I guess it isn't important now." I pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Blair, honey, please calm down," he fake begs.

"I'm pregnant!" I yell, throwing my hands into the air.

"Oh my God! You people have problems! You know what, don't bother calling me, Terry!" The blonde yells.

"Harry!" Harry and I retort together.

"You people are crazy!" She yells, running out, slamming the door shut. Harry stands, a smile spreading across his face. He gives me a high five, laughing.

"So we're engaged and you're pregnant now? You're creative," he says, laughing. I just shake my head.

"I got your text," I tell him.

"Yeah, thanks for the help." He pauses, turning to fix his hair in the mirror. "As always."

"No problem," I say, picking some dirty clothes off the floor. "As always."

He smirks at me in the mirror and grabs a shirt from his dresser, pulling it over his head. He grabs his cologne off the dresser and spritzes it onto himself, then takes a sip of water from a cup on his bedside table. He's mastered hangovers.

We walk out of his bedroom, and he begins kicking people out. He nudges them with his boot until they wake up. He moves ahead of me and I can see the tattoos through his crisp white shirt. I immediately avert my eyes, getting back to work.

We continue to clean. I spray the window with cleaner as I look over at Harry who is shoving someone out the back door. I flush when his muscles contract as he pushes the half awake drunk out, slamming the door behind him. Harry looks over at me and I look down, scrubbing the window faster as I spray it again, my cheeks burning.

"Blair," he says.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning the window."

"With Febreeze?"

I flush and look down to see that I am indeed cleaning the window with Febreeze. "Oh. Oops."

Harry smirks. "At least the window smells like Ocean Breeze now."

I laugh and put down the Febreeze, swapping it for Windex. Harry picks up the Febreeze and sprays the air with it, trying to eliminate the smell of liquor.

"So how many drinks did you have last night?" I ask as we continue to move through the house, cleaning it.

"More than six, less than sixteen," he says and I cringe, sending him a disapproving look. I shove his shoulder, and he just laughs at me.

"Harry!" I scold.

"I'm sorry! Maybe if you came to a party with me once in awhile you could monitor me," he says with a wink. I shoot him a look.

"You know that's not my scene," I say, grabbing another Hefty garbage bag and sweeping red plastic cups into it.

"Right, but you are my best friend," he says. "You should show your face once in awhile. People are going to start to think I killed you." I laugh.

"Maybe...if you take that eyebrow ring out," I tease. His hand automatically flies to the smooth silver ring pierced through his eyebrow.

"If you come to next week's party," he says. "I'll take my eyebrow ring out for a day."

I snort. "I was kidding, Harry."

"I wasn't."

"I'm not coming to one of your house parties so I can get wasted and wake up the next day bathed in my own vomit," I retort. He grins crookedly.

"I'm not bathed in my own vomit," he points out.

"You've been hungover every Saturday morning since we were fifteen, you've had practice," I say, pushing past him to grab another garbage bag.

Harry shrugs, not disagreeing. "I'm just saying, you deserve to have a little fun once in awhile," he says. "You can't stay cooped up in your room forever."

For some reason, this rubs me the wrong way and I glare at him. He knows my room has been my safe haven since my mother died. His eyes soften. "Blair, I'm sorry," he sighs.

I shrug, turning away. "Whatever."

I hear him grumbling behind me as we clean the rest of the house in silence. I'm dusting the fireplace when I hear Harry behind me. I turn and he's closer than I thought, his green eyes dark.

"What?" I ask him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asks.

"Nothing," I say, brushing past him. He grabs my wrist, spinning me around to face him again.

"Just tell me why you're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Bullshit."

"Why does it even matter?"

"Because when you're mad it makes me upset," he says.

"Deal with it," I say, trying to pull my wrist away, but he only tightens his grip.

"Dammit, Blair!" He's angry now. He locks and unlocks his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm sorry, okay?"

I tense my jaw, trying to hold in the tears that threaten to overflow. I hate crying. I haven't cried in a couple years. I just go into this state where I hyperventilate and hold the tears in. It's worked, I suppose. I'm the type of person who bottles up their feelings and hides them from people.

"Blair." Harry's tone is softer as he lets go of my wrist. "I'm sorry," he says again.

It's a few moments before I can speak. "Fine," I say. His gaze softens and he gives me a half smile.

Harry has always been like this. Sometimes he says the wrong things at the wrong times, but he knows I could never really be mad at him. We tend to fight a lot, more than best friends should, but we're really different people, and we know that. Harry's a socialite; I'm shy. He has tattoos; I have none. He sleeps around; I don't leave my room much. I guess the fights we have are our way of dealing with these differences.

"How's your dad?" Harry asks as we finish disinfecting the kitchen.

I tense. "Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "Still getting on my nerves a lot."

"Want me to beat the shit out of him?" Harry's eyes twinkle.

I stifle a laugh. "Harry." He laughs. I look at him. "Louis is good, too."

His eyes snap to me. "I didn't ask about Louis."

I roll my eyes. "He is my step-brother, Harry."

"I don't give a flying fuck who he is."

"Harry," I scold. "What's your problem with him anyway?"

He doesn't answer.

I sigh. "I'm sick of you guys keeping things from me," I say. Harry still doesn't answer so I decide to drop it for today.

We finish cleaning the house by two and decide to go out for lunch.

"So who was the girl of the week I had to save you from?" I ask as we walk into our favorite pizza place.

"Um..." Harry narrows his eyes, thinking. "Ash? Ashlyn? Ashley. Yeah, Ashley." He smiles, as if remembering details of the night before.

"You," I say, shoving him a bit, "are truly disgusting."

He shrugs and places our lunch orders. We sit at a booth near the window and people watch. We've been coming here since we were sixteen, and no matter how many times a week we come for lunch, dinner, and sometimes even breakfast, the pizza never gets old.

"Remember when we used to come here every Friday?" Harry asks.

I nod. "Every Friday," I recall. Harry grins.

Harry motions to the waitress for the bill when I see a flash of blonde hair behind him.

Oh.

Harry has some friends that I'm not exactly comfortable around. These two are prime examples of people I try to avoid. Penny, a blonde girl with aqua blue dip dyed ends in a short leather skirt and six inch heels and of course Luke, a boy with dark eyes and a scar stretching down his left cheek.

"Well, well, well." They smirk at us.

Harry's eyes darken. "Penny, Luke," he greets them, sitting up a little straighter. I force a smile.

"Blair, right?" Penny asks. Her eyes are coated in thick black liner making her green lenses pop.

I nod, feeling intimidated.

"How come a beauty like you is never at the parties?" Luke asks, his eyes sweeping me over. I swallow. Luke eyes Harry carefully, his face becoming guarded.

"I--" I look at Harry, expecting him to intervene. He avoids my gaze. "It's not really my scene," I say shakily.

Penny snorts. "What is your scene, then?" She asks. "Pizza parties at the local lunch counter?" The two of them share a venomous laugh. I flush. I try to think of something to say but no words come to mind. I stare at my hands fiddling with my fingers.

"Enough teasing, Penny," Luke says, nudging her. He nods to Harry. "We're going out for a few drinks tonight, you game?"

"Sure," Harry says.

"Great," Penny says, a seductive smile spreads across her face. "See you then."

The two walk out, Penny tossing her aqua-tipped hair over her shoulder.

Harry and I are silent as he pays the bill and stands to leave. I follow him back to the car as I continue to process what just happened. This time he doesn't open the door. His entire demeanor changes when he is around them, and it makes me sick.

"Are you really going to go drinking tonight?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah," he answers.

"But you did last night already."

"So?"

"Alcohol isn't the best thing for you."

"Neither is a nagging bitch of a best friend," he snaps. I flinch at his words.

I stare at him in shock. "Please, don't let me hold you back. Let me out of the car," I say.

"Blair--"

"I said let me out of the car." I try to sound forceful, and it works.

Harry sighs and stops at the side of the road. I am horrified at his behavior. I always knew his friends were sketchy but I didn't know he was that different around them. Before I slam the car door, I turn and say, "I will call Louis to pick me up."

Harry's face turns a darker shade of red. "Blair--"

I slam the door before he can yell at me and walk away. I pull out my phone, dialing Louis' number. I run a hand through my dark hair, pushing it out of my eyes. It rings for a while before he picks up.

"Hey, Blair, everything alright?"

"Harry was being a dipshit so I need you to come pick me up. I'm on Melbourne Avenue." I look up to see Harry's car has already disappeared. I exhale, looking at my feet.

I hear Louis sigh. "I'm on my way."

"Thanks, Lou."