Only If She Stayed

05. Unbearable

GETTING AROUND TO DOING my English homework proved to be harder than expected with Edgar in the house with me. I did, thankfully, get around to completing it before nightfall. If it went for his many attempts to kiss me, touch me, and hold me then I would've finished it sooner.

The sound of my mom's car pulling into the driveway caused my boyfriend to pull back from the loving embrace he had on me, resting his head on my stomach while I lied on my back.

He lifted his head up an inch. "She's here early."

I flashed a glance at the clock pinned on my wall. "About half an hour earlier than she's usually supposed to be here." I noticed and smoothed my hand ever so softly over his wavy locks.

He sat upright and started to put his shirt back on. I bounced on to my feet and went over to my row of scented candles.

I was a self-proclaimed expert in collecting them and also home-making candles. It was a hobby my grandmother had instilled into me at a young age, slowly becoming one of the many things I enjoyed doing with her.

"Do you have a lighter?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do." He patted his front and back pockets, finally retrieving a blue lighter.

I did not want to ask him why he had a lighter. Countless times, I asked him to stop smoking, but my advice went in one ear and out the other. Seeing him bring out a lighter - with a small amount of fluid left - answered one question.

I lit two of the candles and placed them on opposite sides of the room. Quickly, as I heard the front door opening, I took a look in the mirror. Huffing up a storm, I furiously tried to flatten my curly, frizzy hair.

"You look good. Stop worrying," Edgar whispered behind me and smiled at me through the reflection.

"I have bed-head hair, and I didn't even go to bed."

"You had fun in bed though."

"Shut-up." I swatted his hand. "She can hear you."

He chuckled and went back to his shoes, putting them on. After he was done, we both went downstairs to greet my mom. Two large grocery bags were in her arms, practically bursting with produce and products from the store.

"Hi, Mrs. Farah," Edgar chirped and walked up to her. "Let me help you with those."

"Oh, Edgar. I didn't see your car out there." My mother said, flustered. "I'm glad to see you here. Always a pleasure to have you over. I'll be fine with the groceries."

"I insist," he pressed on and she happily handed them to him.

While strolling into the kitchen, my mother turned to me and gave me a welcoming grin. "Hi, sweetie. How was school?"

"It was alright." I retorted. "We're still trying to fill our empty spot in the dance team. Try outs are coming up soon so I hope we'll be able to get that straightened out before the regional competitions this spring."

"West Vista High is competing this year?" Edgar inquired, standing up from his kneeling position in front of the fridge. "I thought you guys weren't going this year."

"We weren't because of what happened with our team mate, but if we're able to fill in the spot we'll be okay."

"That seems like a difficult thing to do. You'd have to find someone who's willingly to learn all the dances you guys have been working on since last term. They'd have to do a lot of catch-up work."

I slumped into one of the red-leather stools that were perfectly tucked behind the kitchen island. "We're well aware of that, Ed. But it's the only chance we've got. Also, it's my senior year and I'd like to at least win one last title before graduating."