"Pass the chips."
Nash hid his smile behind his hand, "I have no idea where they are." Nash couldn't do the innocent look to save his life. I rolled my eyes.
"I hate you," I whined, reaching my hand further towards the chips, which were currently on the other side of him, nestled under his leg. "Stop hiding them, I can see them right there stupid." I scowled, poking the side of his face. He ignored this, of course. Though I know it annoyed him, since he glared at me. I hid my smirk and shifted my weight on the bed, and he turned his attention back to the movie.
We were watching some movie called Gladiator. I didn't bother to pay attention, there was lots of blood and swords, that was all I knew. I heard the rustle of the chip bag and I knew Nash was trying to get chips without me noticing. I glared in his direction, not that he even realized.
One... two...three...
"Argh!" I growled, hurling myself towards him on his side of the bed and snatching the bag of chips from his hands. I stuffed it into my shirt, and feeling victorious, I grinned. I was now tangled in his bed sheets and my arm had ended up under his leg, my head resting on his ankle. "Oops," I said with a small smirk on my face, de-tangling myself from him.
"For chips," he muttered to himself shaking his head, and grabbing the remote to turn the volume up to tune me out. I scowled at him, and munched on a chip.
"Stop chewing so loud," Nash growled, turning the volume up even further. My cheeks were puffed out, full of chips, and I tried to chew less obnoxiously. Crunch...crunch...crunch.
My lips curled into a smile as Nash glared at me, pausing his precious movie. Teasing Nash turned out to be very fun.
I looked at him guiltily, my hands up in surrender, "All right, all right," I said, biting the inside of my cheeks so I didn't laugh or smile and annoy him further. I shot him a dorky thumbs up after swallowing the rest of the chips that were in my mouth. He rolled his eyes, but bit his lip like I had just done something cute.
He pressed play, and his eyes trailed back to the movie, his shoulders relaxing. I stared at him in the dark of his room, the small TV he had flickering and making light splash across his face every so often. His lips were parted, freckles that I hadn't noticed before scattered around his nose and cheeks. His cheekbones were sharp and defined, but the way his eyes were blue and clear made him look more gentle in a way that most people wouldn't notice if they had just glanced at him.
"Done staring?" he crooned in an arrogant way making me both blush red and scowl at the same time.
"Who's staring?" I muttered, turning my attention to the TV. I leaned my head back onto his pillows, sniffling and feeling my eyes flutter shut. I wanted to stay here, lost in his world. I knew that was silly, even half asleep.
"Hey," Nash nudged my shoulder, "Come on," he coaxed, his lips at my ear, "Wake up." My eyelids fluttered, and I mumbled sleepily, pushing his hands away from me. He entwined our fingers, and I sleepily sat up. The TV screen showed that the credits were rolling. Nash's hair was sticking up in all directions and his eyes were sleepy. He had fallen asleep too. I smiled at his bed hair; almost as bad as mine, not quite, but almost. He smiled back in a confused way, making him look even more like a lost puppy.
"You need a ride home?" Nash asked, and I gave him a small, reluctant nod. I placed my fingers in my lap, trying to stop fidgeting as he drove closer to my house. I was scared of what I'd find. More specifically, what I wouldn't find; like the heat still not on and no food in our fridge. One thing was on my mind: poor, sweet Chris. My baby brother didn't deserve this so young.
"Uh, Aria?" Nash's voice made my head snap up. I realized we'd stopped in front of my house and I was still sitting in the same place, a frown etched on my lips.
"Oh, bye," I murmured. He narrowed his eyes at me, squinting through the darkness up at my house that had no lights on. He raised his eyebrows, asking a silent question: Is no one home? I ignored him, though and I crossed my arms over my chest, rubbing up and down on my arms to keep warm. I padded slowly up the walk to my house, jiggling the door and it opened. Unlocked. Why? I turned back to see Nash still idling at the side of the road, squinting up at me, waiting for me to go in.
Nerves pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I stepped through the threshold, the heat in the house humming. I felt relieved, though it felt empty somehow. This made my stomach twist in knots. I stepped in, looking around. In the kitchen, the fridge wasn't stocked, as I had expected, just milk, cold cuts, and yogurt but it was enough. The bills that had been thrown carelessly around the kitchen counters were gone.
There was still something wrong. I felt myself sprinting up the staircase, throwing open my mother's door. Sinking to the floor, my stomach lurched.
"Oh God," I cried, putting my head in my hands.
Her room was empty. Nothing there except for a few pieces of crumbled up papers, and dust. Why? How? I scrambled to pick up the papers she left behind, opening them with my shaking hands and spreading them out on the ground.
I scowled, slapping my hand onto the ground and pushing the papers away. They were useless! Just old receipts and tags. She hadn't even left a note. Just gone. Disappeared into thin air.
I slowly rose to my feet, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Nash was still sitting outside my house, like he had known all along. I didn't know how nor did I ask. My bottom lip was trembling, but my eyes were dry. I sat in his passenger seat, and hugged my knees to my chest, feeling like there was the weight of the world on my shoulders.
He drove silently, stopping to get me a milkshake from McDonald's. I held the shake in my hands, pressing the cold drink to my forehead.
"Shit," I swore.
"Shit," he repeated, but still didn't ask what was wrong. I appreciated this, since I didn't know how I would even begin.
I sipped on the thick chocolate shake, feeling warm inside that he had just knew that this small thing would make me feel a little better. He kept glancing over at me, and curiosity burned in his bright blue orbs. What happened? was what they were asking, but I kept silent.
I followed him up the staircase, and he handed me over a t-shirt and sweatpants. I changed in the bathroom, pulling on the gray, faded t-shirt that fell right above my knees. I pulled on the drawstring on the sweatpants, tightening them so they wouldn't fall down. I stared into the large mirror that covered most of his bathroom wall. I wiped away tears that had leaked over, my mascara flaky and my hair flat.
Lying down next to him, he kept his hands to himself, facing me. We blinked at each other for a while, and I wondered again what made Nash who he is. What had scarred him so badly? The question was on my lips, who died? I kept silent, though, and so did he.
When he fell asleep, I watched him still, waiting. He thrashed suddenly, but I had expected it. It felt almost wrong watching him have nightmares, like it was him at his most vulnerable and nothing he could do would protect him from the things that plagued his dreams. His dark eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, his mouth twisting into a frown. I smoothed it out with my fingers. His face relaxed some.
"No," he panted, making me wince. "Don't," he choked on his words, "Don't leave." I clenched my fists. I was selfish because I didn't want to wake him, because I wanted to hear more.
Who left? He spoke again, making me put a hand over my mouth.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, gripping my arms. I stayed stock still. "I didn't know," he mumbled, his words slurred with sleep, "I didn't know, I promise..." he trailed off, his face smoothing out again as he fell deeper into sleep.
For the next hour, I fell in and out of sleep, wondering where my mom was by now. She could be anywhere. Every time I slept, I saw shapes and colors that made no sense to me, and I would wake with a cold sweat on my forehead, panting. Nash was awake the next time I gasped awake. In this dream, I had saw my mother's face. She had been laughing at me. His eyes were on the ceiling, his hands gripping his sheets tightly. He'd had a worse dream.
"Bad dream?" he asked me, his beautiful eyes flickering over to meet mine.
"Something like that," I answered quietly, knowing that his nightmares were worse than mine.
"Want to talk about it?" his voice was low, like a lullaby. I laid my head back down, facing him.
"No," I whispered, tears leaking out of my eyes and trailing into my hairline. I blinked until my vision was clear and not blurred by my tears. "No," I repeated.
"No," he echoed, tracing his finger along my tear tracks, but not wiping them away. My eyelids fluttered. His fingers found their way to my hair. He smoothed down my hair, in soothing patterns until I felt myself falling further into sleep.
I found myself thinking about Nash as I fell asleep, as I did most nights. The way he was angry most of the time, a jerk for sure, but also the way he was strangely gentle and vulnerable like a little boy would be. How he was understanding, and silence didn't bother him.
"Goodnight," I mumbled to him. His fingers paused in my hair.
"Night, Aria," he murmured back, his voice low and vulnerable. "I really like you, I think," he whispered. A tired smile crossed my lips, and I reached my hand out to him. His fingers found mine. We held hands under the blankets.
"I think I really like you too, Nash," I whispered.
