Don't Go

Chapter Two

“I want to hear all about Europe.” I smiled, grabbing Brian’s hand.  I sat on my bed, and waited for him to join me.  He took off his shoes, and climbed onto my bed.  “You know your bed is much more comfortable than I remember.” He laid his head down, and put his hands behind his head.  He smiled as he closed his eyes.  “Maybe because you haven’t had a bed in six months.” I stated, and playfully poked his side.

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Well, I’ve had the beds in hotel rooms.  But yours is much more…inviting.  That’s the word I’m looking for.”

                “So, what’s Europe like?” I pushed.  It’s always been my dream to go to Europe, and he actually got to go, and go to different places.  I was jealous, I had to admit it.

He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling.  “It was perfect, and beautiful.  The food was amazing, and can’t forget the bars, too.” He smirked.  

                “You’re so lucky!” I pushed out my bottom lip, and pouted playfully.

The side of his mouth curled into a smirk, “It wasn’t completely perfect though.”

                “Why the hell not?  You were in Europe.  I don’t see how it wasn’t perfect.”

He turned to me, his brown eyes shining.  “You weren’t there.” He whispered.  He’s so mushy.

I wrinkled my nose up at him to keep from blushing.  “I’m sure you had fun without me.”

                “A moment didn’t go by I didn’t think about you.  I missed you.”

I’m sure I was blushing like an idiot, so I turned away from him.  “But you wouldn’t have had much fun, having to drag a kid around.”

He sighed loudly, getting annoyed.  He hates it when I talk about the age difference, and referring to myself as a “kid.”  But it’s true.  He’s six years older than me.  “Do you think that’s how I look at you?  Just a kid?”

                “That’s all I am.  I can’t go to bars.  I can’t go on tour with you.  And it sucks.”

                “Jenna, I like it that you can’t go to bars.  The best times I have are ones like these.  Just sitting in your room talking, or staying up all night watching movies.  There’s a reason you’re my best friend.  Not just because our parents are best friends.”

I pulled my knees to my chest, and rested my chin between them.  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I mumbled.

He placed his hand on my upper thigh, gripping slightly, and giving me a few shakes.  “Smile for me.  Don’t be upset.”

I wasn’t upset.  Well, I guess I was.  I always get upset when I start to think about these things.  “I’m fine.  Are you hungry?” I turned to him, and asked.

                “Do you really have to ask?” he grinned.

I shook my head, smiling.  “C’mon.” I stood up, and walked to his side of the bed, and he had yet to move.  I widened my eyes at him, and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.  “I don’t want to move.” He pouted, following close behind.  I laughed, and continued our journey to the kitchen. 

                I had him sit at the bar, while I cooked.  “Grilled cheese, right?”

He shrugged, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”  I got the things to make two, and made them within five minutes.  I handed Brian’s his, and then got up on the stool next to him.  I struggled, because I’m really short.  I heard him chuckle, “You’re so short.” He tried to contain his laughter.